For a few seconds, Mattie studied her student with indecisive curiosity, then reached out and twisted her fingers in a brief gesture toward the desk. “Did you do something I should know about?”
“Probably.”
The jar of pens floated off Professor Bergmann’s desk and into the center of the office. It hovered in the air between them.
Cheyenne lifted her hand and reached toward the floating container. “I don’t care about what other people should know. Just what I can do.”
Sparks flared at the tip of her outstretched index finger, lighting the room and both women’s faces with a deep violet glow. Just like dodging a bullet. That’s how it’s done.
The crackling hiss of her magic slowed to intermittent bursts. Mattie Bergmann’s heartbeat stretched on, with multiple seconds between each percussion tap in Cheyenne’s ears—at least, what felt like seconds. Cheyenne focused on the jar and sent a burst of purple and black magic toward the open rim. The light arced from her finger like water from a fountain.
With a hiss and a loud crack, every pen inside the jar flew out, striking the bookshelves and the walls and falling all over Mattie’s desk. Inside the glass, Cheyenne’s magic crackled with a droning buzz—purple and black lighting captured in a bottle.
“Well,” Mattie’s eyes gave off a feral light, “you get half points for that one.”
Cheyenne dropped her hand. “You never said not to take anything out of the jar.”
“You’re one of those prodigies, aren’t you?” When Cheyenne’s eyebrows flicked together in confusion, her professor laughed. “You’re right. I didn’t say what not to do. Just so we’re clear, I hope that won’t be something I have to remind you of too often.”
“What not to do?” Cheyenne stepped toward the floating jar and shrugged. “Don’t worry. My moral compass isn’t that broken.”
“Very reassuring.” Mattie snapped her fingers and, before the halfling could grasp the jar humming with drow energy, the clear glass pulled away from Cheyenne and zipped into the professor’s hand. Peering into the opening, Mattie blew into the jar like blowing out a candle, and the sparks buzzing inside snuffed out. “Did you spend any time working on returning to Cheyenne the Goth?”
Cheyenne watched her professor cross the office to put the jar back on her desk, although the woman didn’t bother to pick up the pens scattered all over the place. “That part’s not as fun.”
“I wasn’t joking.” When Mattie turned around, amusement glinted in her eyes, but it was curtailed by a seriousness Cheyenne hadn’t seen in her before. “I’m pleased to see you appreciating where you come from and what you can do. That’s important.”
“There’s a but, isn’t there?” The halfling pressed her lips together and leaned against the bookshelf, folding her arms.
“That surprises you?”
“No, it’s just annoying.”
Mattie rubbed her hands together as she paced her office. “In some ways, we’re all a little annoyed about being here, but it’s way better than where we came from. Most of the time. But all of us on this side, Cheyenne, do whatever it takes to live our lives within the parameters we’re given. Everything after that is up to us. Just like it’s your responsibility to get a handle not only on using your drow magic but on putting it away when it doesn’t serve you. Believe me, there will be times when it won’t serve you.”
Cheyenne sniffed and watched her professor’s slow, aimless steps. “This side of what?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You said, ‘all of us on this side.’ That’s the Border, right?” The halfling leaned her head against the bookshelf. “I’m guessing the Border is the same thing as the portal. Maybe even the reservations. I know they’re connected.”
Mattie pointed at her student and dipped her head with an intense gaze. “New rule. The next thing I teach you is how to put together all those puzzle pieces you somehow snatched out of thin air. After you’re able to shift from human to drow whenever you want. Until then, don’t ask.”
Cheyenne studied her teacher. She’s serious. But it’s better than trying to find anything online with gu@rdi@n104breathing down my virtual neck. And it’s more than Mom can tell me.
“Okay. Fair enough. Then teach me something.”
Professor Bergmann pointed her index finger at Cheyenne, then turned away. “Don’t push it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“How is this supposed to help me?” Cheyenne cocked her head, and her shoulders sagged. It took ten minutes to cool from the heat of her drow magic, and now she stood on the other side of Mattie’s office, looking like a regular human grad student. Maybe just a regular human.
“Come on. Don’t tell me you couldn’t use a little more money thrown at you—oh.” Professor Bergmann laughed and tossed the tray of loose change in her hand. The coins clinked together, sounding much like Cheyenne’s wrist chains. “That’s funny.”
“I’ll ignore it as long as you tell me the point of this.”
“And ruin all the fun?”
A penny flew across the room and thumped against the half-drow’s collarbone. “Ow.”
“Oh, please. We both know you have a higher pain tolerance than that. It’s in your blood.” Mattie picked out another coin. “On both sides, if I had to guess.”
“So, just because it’s not excruciating, it means I should get used to being hit with— Hey!” A dime popped her in the forehead and fell to the carpet. Cheyenne frowned and rubbed her head.
“Look at that! Right in the middle. I still got it.” Mattie shimmied a little and wiggled her eyebrows before taking careful aim with another coin. “And yes, this is exactly what you should get used to.”
“This is stupid.” The next coin bounced off her chin. “Did you do this with all those orcs you won’t talk about?”
“Ha. They got fellfire and a couple of bursts of… You know what, that was different. I trained orcs not to feel pain. I’m training you not to give a damn.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I want.”
“It is when you’re trying not
