The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  “I don’t see what for.”

  “To see if I recognize anything.”

  “Don’t bother yourself, Cheyenne,” L’zar cut in. “I’ve already examined those runes closely enough for the both of us.”

  “Oh, sure. I’d say forgive me for not taking your word for it, but I don’t really care.” She stepped past him and sidled around the breakfast cart to get to her mother.

  He watched them for a moment, then lowered his voice and leaned toward them. “I may be able to find an alternative solution to this.”

  “Don’t bother yourself, L’zar.” Cheyenne glared up at him and shook her head. “You’ve already done enough.”

  He took a sharp breath. “Be that as it may, I still feel compelled to offer what little knowledge I do possess in this matter.”

  “Nope.”

  “Cheyenne, I can help. I want to help.”

  “No. You’re done playing wannabe drow hero. You’re out of the picture now, remember? You gave it all up. I did my job, you were cursed and exiled, and nobody needs you anymore. You knew this would happen.”

  Her father straightened, the concerned frown gone from his face in an instant as he lifted his chin and gazed at her over his long, aquiline nose. The corners of L’zar’s mouth twitched into a subdued sneer. “As you wish.”

  He took off across the room, swerving around the edge of the breakfast cart without missing a beat. Cheyenne stared at the bedspread in front of her until she heard his footsteps, light even in anger, fade down the staircase and into the foyer.

  She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked at her mom. “Bad idea to let him stay here.”

  Bianca blinked quickly, then leaned back against the pillows to peer around her daughter. “Ember, would you kindly give Cheyenne and me a few minutes alone, please?”

  “Oh.” Ember’s eyes widened, and she pointed at the open doors. “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

  “Thank you. And close the doors behind you if you would.”

  “No problem.” When the fae glanced at Cheyenne on her way out, the halfling could only give her an apologetic shrug.

  “Maybe Eleanor made something else for breakfast. You can go check if you want.”

  “Yep. I’ll see you downstairs.” Ember grabbed both door handles and pulled the doors swiftly shut behind her, slowing before they met in the middle with a soft click.

  Cheyenne turned back to her mom and raised her eyebrows. Totally weird to be shut up here alone. It’s not like there are any secrets left in this house anymore. I hope.

  Bianca sighed heavily and swatted the breakfast cart blocking her daughter from the bedside. “Get this thing out of the way, will you? The thought of food is making me nauseous.”

  Cheyenne gently pushed the cart out of the way and let it roll to a stop on the area rug. Bianca finally took a long drink of orange juice, staring at her daughter as she did so before glancing pointedly at the comforter beside her legs. Cheyenne didn’t have to be told to sit. She’s wishing she’d said yes to the champagne, I bet. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for tequila.

  With her drink now almost empty, Bianca set it delicately on the nightstand, took another deep breath, then folded her hands in her lap and met her daughter’s gaze. “First of all, Cheyenne, I don’t want you to have the wrong impression of the situation.”

  The halfling glanced quickly around the room as if someone might appear out of thin air at any second to interrupt them. L’zar can, so there’s always that possibility. “Which situation, Mom? The one where you’re lying in bed with burns all over your body after being cursed, or the one where you wouldn’t talk to me about him for twenty-one years but are suddenly cool with letting him camp out in your house?”

  Bianca dipped her head, acknowledging her daughter’s anger. Her hesitant swallow betrayed her discomfort better than anything in her nearly composed expression. “Seeing as I don’t quite know what the correct impression would be for the former, I am referring to the latter.”

  “Right. What impression do you think I have?”

  “Listen to me, Cheyenne. I am in no way comfortable with that man being here. Well, he’s not a man. His presence brings me no satisfaction, no joy, and certainly no additional comfort in my present position, namely lying in bed, as you put it. Your father is insufferably inscrutable and persistent. He speaks in riddles.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “Yep.”

  “And he can’t sit still for longer than thirty seconds at a time.”

  “Huh.” The halfling tilted her head. “That’s a new one.”

  “It’s infuriating.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” No meditating and lying around with his hands behind his head. Sounds like the Weaver’s not as comfortable here as he wants everyone to think.

  “I don’t want him here. If I had the choice, if I knew I could snap my fingers, make a call, and have him dragged off this property forever, I’d do it.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Bianca let out a bitter chuckle, then winced when she shifted her position on the bed.

  Cheyenne stared at her. Bianca Summerlin didn’t fidget. Not even when she was in pain.

  “Despite all that, I haven’t told him to leave.”

  “Oh.” Cheyenne slowly turned her head away from her mom, though she couldn’t look away. Why do I have a feeling she’s about to say something I don’t wanna hear? “Why not?”

  “Because honestly, Cheyenne, I’m frightened.” The woman said it with no hesitation, no embarrassment, and no attempt to soften the blow of a revelation like that.

  Her daughter closed her eyes in confusion. “Wait, what?”

  “I don’t know what’s been done to me,” Bianca continued matter-of-factly, “and I certainly have no inkling as to what lies ahead or how to alleviate the symptoms, or if it’s even possible. I’m at a complete loss as to what comes next or to whom I should turn for any aspect of the circumstances.”

  “Mom, I’ll take care of this, okay? You don’t have to.”

  “I know you will.” Bianca set a hand on her daughter’s knee and nodded slowly. “You haven’t let me down so far when you say you’ll take care of something, and I have full faith in your ability to do that again. But let him help.”

  Cheyenne stared at her mom’s hand on her knee. “You want me to let L’zar help me clean up his mess.”

  “Well, if you choose to see it that way, I can’t stop you.” Bianca’s hand slid back into her own lap. “However you see it, that’s what I’m requesting of you. Let him help. And if he fails, of which I suspect there is a very high chance, we’ll get rid of him together.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in, then Cheyenne looked quickly up at her mom with raised eyebrows. “Get rid of him.”

  “That’s what I said, Cheyenne. Together. You and I.”

  A soft laugh of disbelief escaped the halfling. “You know, most of the time these days, the phrase ‘get rid of him’ means something a little different. What do you mean by that?”

  Despite her discomfort and all the unknown surrounding her, Bianca graced her daughter with a small, knowing smile. “Use your imagination. You’ve always been quite good at that.”

  Cheyenne sighed. “Okay. I guess. I’ll let him help.”

  “Good.”

  And I seriously hope he does, ‘cause I don’t think even Mom has the resources to get rid of L’zar Verdys. Does she?

  As Cheyenne stared at the wall beside the headboard, mulling over her confusion at her mom’s request, Bianca pressed herself farther into the pile of pillows and closed her eyes. “That will be all for now. Being ripped out of sleep by my skin catching fire doesn’t leave room for high energy levels.”

  “Got it.” Cheyenne patted her mom’s leg and considered leaning down to hug her, but Bianca didn’t open her eyes again or show any indication that she wanted to be touched. Probably not, if her skin’s on fire. So she turned slowly and headed for the doors.

  “And remind Eleano
r about the ibuprofen,” Bianca muttered.

  “Or something stronger, right?”

  Her mom took a long, deep breath and didn’t move. “Or something stronger. Thank you.”

  Cheyenne slipped quietly through the doors and closed them gently behind her. Then she turned to the staircase and paused. What the fuck does “get rid of him” mean? If she thinks we’re taking this into patricide, she’s worse than I thought.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Once she got downstairs, Cheyenne poked her head through the swinging door into the industrial kitchen and found Eleanor plating two servings of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. “Eleanor?”

  “Oh!” The housekeeper jumped and grabbed the skillet handle with both hands to keep from dropping it. “You almost gave me a heart attack, Cheyenne.”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to sneak up on you.”

  “I should hope not. We’ve already had enough of that around here as it is.” Eleanor waved in the general direction of the rest of the house.

  “Asshole?” Cheyenne offered.

  “Ha. Well, I was trying to expand my vocabulary, but that’s the only word that feels right at the moment.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling. Hey, you still keep the medicine cabinet in the same place, right?”

  “What? Oh.” The skillet clanged back down on the range stovetop, and Eleanor vigorously wiped her hands on her apron. “I forgot the ibuprofen.”

  “I can take it to her if you want.”

  “No, no. I moved the whole medicine cabinet last spring. Had a new one built, and it’s a little tricky to… No, I’ll get it.” Eleanor set a fork on each plate, then picked up the dishes and carried them over to Cheyenne. “For you and Ember. I’m sorry I didn’t have anything ready for you earlier than this.”

  “Eleanor.”

  “Yes?” The woman stopped right in front of Cheyenne.

  “All that’s on L’zar, okay? Don’t apologize for what he did to you.”

  “Well. I’m not in the habit of shrugging responsibility off on someone else, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. So I take it back.”

  “Good.” Cheyenne took the breakfast plates, and the housekeeper pointed at her.

  “And we never talk about it again.”

  “Deal. And thanks for breakfast. This is perfect.”

  “Well, it’s the least I can do. Help yourself to anything else if I missed something. I know I don’t have to tell you, but that includes the liquor cabinet.”

  “What?”

  Eleanor waved off the halfling’s surprise and gave her a pointed look. “I caught a glimpse of you stumbling into your room last night, sweetheart. I’ve never heard you make so much noise just walking.” She looked at Cheyenne and frowned. “Honestly, I’m surprised you look as well as you do this morning. You’re not drinking that much as a regular thing these days, are you?”

  Cheyenne laughed. “Nope. The perks of having a fae for a best friend.”

  “Well. Lucky you.” With a chuckle, Eleanor hurried off to bring Bianca that ibuprofen. Cheyenne pressed her back against the swinging kitchen door with her hands full of breakfast and found Ember sitting in what had apparently become her usual spot on the chaise in the sitting area down the hall.

  The fae perked up when she saw the plates piled high with eggs and bacon and floated effortlessly to her feet. “That looks awesome.”

  “If Eleanor made it, it will be.”

  They moved to the dining table beneath the staircase with an epic view of the veranda at the back of the house and the huge back lawn surrounded by forest. The crumbled mess of the destroyed portal ridge was barely visible from the dining area, but Cheyenne took a seat with her back to the entire wall of windows anyway. I don’t wanna think about that shit while I’m eating.

  They dug into their eggs in silence. When Ember finally slowed down enough to leave room for conversation, she looked up at Cheyenne. “So. Bianca, huh?”

  “You know, I’d ask what about her, but it’s pretty much everything at this point.”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty weird.” Ember stuck another forkful of eggs in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Especially the whole vessel thing, right?”

  “Whatever the hell that is, I need to figure out how to keep it away from her.” The bacon crunched beneath Cheyenne’s next violent bite. “She didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

  “For sure.” Nodding slowly, Ember pushed the last of her eggs around on her plate and considered the bacon. But her mind was somewhere else. “Okay, this might sound crazy.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “As crazy as everything else right now? I think that might make it normal at this point.”

  “Maybe. I mean, it’s too close to home for this to be an actual coincidence. What if Bianca has something to do with healing the blight?”

  The halfling’s fork clattered onto her plate, and she stared at her friend. Cheyenne barked out a bitter laugh. “Nice try.”

  “Hear me out, though. You’re hearing all this stuff about the vessel, whatever the hell that is. The Sorren Gán brought it up with some vague-ass prophecy shit. Didn’t it say something about you being part of some greater whole or something like that?”

  “Honestly, Em, I was paying more attention to whether it looked hungry enough to try eating me and the fact that I fucking hate prophecies.”

  “Okay, sure. Then what about Venga?”

  Cheyenne picked up her fork again and gave her friend a blank stare. “What about him?”

  “‘There’s something wrong with the vessel.’ That’s what he said.”

  “Okay. Now you’re putting stock in what a necromancer said after surprise-injecting me with what was supposed to heal me and obviously didn’t even come close.” The halfling hooked a finger through the top of her shirt and glanced down at the wound on her shoulder. “Made it worse.”

  “I think he was talking about you as a vessel.” Ember lifted a strip of crispy bacon to her mouth, trying to play it casual as she gauged Cheyenne’s reaction. “What if Bianca’s, like, the other vessel?”

  Cheyenne stared at her half-eaten plate, slowly pushed it away from her, and sat back in her chair. “No.”

  “So? She just happens to have the rune for ‘vessel’ branded on her chest now? For fun?”

  “She’s got a lot of other runes on her skin too, Em. Does that make her everything else those runes mean too?”

  Ember shrugged. “I wasn’t saying that. I’m trying to put the pieces together.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe all the pieces we have don’t even go to the same puzzle.” Except that everything is connected right now, and it all centers around me. It’s also bullshit. “Bianca’s already got enough on her plate. A portal in her backyard, L’zar holing up in her house like he owns the place, and Ba’rael’s curse using her as a human chalkboard. No way is she getting any more involved in this because the pieces might fit. That’s ridiculous. I mean, yeah, she’s my mom, but she’s human, and she doesn’t want anything to do with this.”

  “You didn’t either, Cheyenne.” Ember raised an eyebrow. “She’s already part of it.”

  “And that’s on me.” Cheyenne blinked at the shiny surface of the table. “I should’ve done more to make sure that didn’t happen.”

  She stood quickly, her chair screeching as it scooted back across the hardwood floor, and grabbed her plate.

  “Hey, none of this is your fault.” Ember floated off her chair too. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

  “I didn’t say it was my fault, Em, but I sure as hell didn’t pull out all the stops, either. My mom got way too close to all this when that portal ridge showed up on her property, and I should’ve stopped it all right there. Put her up somewhere else until it was safe again instead of letting her stay here because she wanted to. None of this would’ve happened.”

  Ember grabbed her plate and followed her friend down the hall to the kitchen. “You think you would’ve been able to get her out
of here?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Em, I’m strong enough to carry three Biancas at the same time. I could’ve taken her somewhere way out of the line of fire before she even knew what happened.”

  “True. And I’m sure she would’ve obediently stayed wherever you put her because you’re her daughter, and you happen to be L’zar’s daughter too.”

  Cheyenne paused in front of the kitchen door and looked over her shoulder. Then she pressed her side against the swinging door and headed into the kitchen. “Okay, fair enough.”

  “You did everything you could’ve done, and no one knew Ba’rael’s curse would make it through that portal and hit your mom. None of us could know. This isn’t on you.”

  “Fine, Em. Not my fault. I get that. It’s L’zar’s.”

  Ember snorted. “Not everything is the drow’s fault.”

  “Sure. Just most of it.” Cheyenne turned from the industrial-sized sink to grab Ember’s plate. The fae snatched the last few strips of bacon before handing it over. “And now I have to figure out what the hell’s happening to Bianca so I can stop it. Then we’ll focus on this vessel bullshit.”

  The dishes clanged into the sink, and Cheyenne gave them a brief, careless rinse with the spray hose dangling above the faucet. “But I can’t put either of those things first until after we take down Colonel Thomas at that meeting tomorrow. Feels like all these steps are backward, but whatever.”

  “You know I’m here to help you with all of it.”

  “Yeah, Em. I know.”

  They stood there in the kitchen, Cheyenne glaring at the floor with her arms folded and Ember watching for signs that she needed to slap some sense back into her best friend. Again. Fortunately, the signs didn’t pop up. “So, until we crash that meeting tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, it sucks having to wait around for the right time to show up.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of what’s happening here.”

  “Oh.” Cheyenne looked at her friend and shrugged. “I mean, Bianca’s staying here, and I guess, so is L’zar.”