“That’s what you had to tell him, huh?”
“Yeah, and he thought I was joking at first.” Ember raised her eyebrows and stared at the coffee table.
“Ouch.”
“You know what? It’s good practice for me. Forget Sherlock Holmes. I’m taking a page out of the halfling’s book. You don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.”
Cheyenne licked her lips and tried not to laugh. “Well, don’t try to be too much like me, Em. I’m pretty sure that’s how I keep getting myself into these screwed-up situations. You’re gonna think I’m making this up when I tell you what happened yesterday.”
Ember spread her arms and leaned forward in her chair to shout, “So why the hell are we still talking about it? Storytime. Go!”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
When Cheyenne finished rattling off the major points of her messed-up Sunday, Ember blinked and lifted her mug to her lips again. It tilted all the way up before she realized it was empty and jammed it back into her lap. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and go with eighty percent.”
The halfling laughed and folded her arms, her right leg slung over one of the recliner’s armrests while she leaned back against the other. She’d put her empty mug on the coffee table halfway through the tale. “Eighty percent of what is what?”
“Eighty percent of that story is total bull.”
The housemates stared at each other, and Cheyenne almost pushed up out of her chair before Ember barked a laugh. The halfling rolled her eyes and flipped her friend the middle finger. “You gotta cut that out.”
“When it puts that look on your face? No way.”
“I’m not a gullible person, and you still get me every single time.”
Ember shook her hair out of her face and laughed until it ran its course. “I’m just that good. And I’m probably the only person in the world who’d believe everything that just came out of your mouth.”
“Maybe.” The halfling shrugged. Except for Bianca Summerlin. “Don’t call it a lie of omission, Cheyenne. Think of it as a tactful representation of the truth you want to present.” She snorted at her mom’s voice ringing so clearly through her head.
“What?” Ember’s lips curled into a sly smile.
“That’s why you’re the only person in the world I tell this crap to, Em.”
“I’m honored by all your crappy stories. You know that.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
The fae wheeled herself back and forth, squinting at the abstract paintings hanging on the wall beside the front door. “It sounds like everybody knows about L’zar Verdys’ halfling daughter, huh?”
“I guess so. And apparently, all I have to do now is finish the trials to ‘claim my legacy,’ fight off living nightmares that aren’t supposed to exist outside the portal, and stop a war between both sides of the Border with L’zar’s number-one guy and the greatest O’gúl, General Turncloak, who’d rather kill everyone than be a team player. Did I mention she used to be my Advanced Algorithms professor?”
“You covered it pretty thoroughly, yeah.” Neither of them could contain themselves, and they both burst out laughing again. “Just minor requirements for the spawn of a rebellion leader, right?”
“Don’t even go there.” Cheyenne dropped her head back against the recliner’s soft, cool leather cushion. “I’m gonna be pinching myself every ten minutes to make sure this is still real.”
Ember shrugged. “No one ever said Cheyenne Summerlin has a boring life.”
“Ha. No one ever said anything about anything. Man, if I’d just cornered Maleshi in her office a week ago and shouted that L’zar Verdys is my incarcerated drow dad, I would’ve been way more prepared for yesterday.”
“Maybe. Sounded like you handled it pretty well, though.”
The halfling said, “I’m workin’ on it. Not sure how I’m gonna keep it together when this stupid necklace shorts out and I’m just wearing a pretty O’gúleesh rock.”
“Start a souvenir box.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Ember threw her head back and let out a full-on belly laugh. “I’m serious. You’re over halfway done with the trials. That box is gonna open right up, and bada-bing, you’re a super-powerful drow halfling. You’ll pull out that pendant just to remind yourself of the good ol’ days.”
“Right before I smack L’zar across the face with it.”
“Or that.” Ember stopped rolling and propped one elbow on the opposite arm, stroking her chin. “When’s the old man gonna break out again?”
Cheyenne shook her head. “When he’s certain it won’t kill me, or something stupid like that.”
“Oh, of course. What an asshole thing to do, right? Man, that’s so infuriatingly selfish. This guy inadvertently killed dozens of his kids over who knows how many centuries, and he’s finally playing it safe with you. You know what? I hope he rots behind those bars.”
“Okay, okay. Damn.”
Ember raised an eyebrow at her halfling friend with a mischievous smirk. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how long you let me go on with that before you stopped me.”
Cheyenne scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I get it. He doesn’t wanna start all over again with some other unconceived kid if anything happens to me. Not like he’d have a lot of time for that at this point anyway.”
The fae clicked her tongue. “You realize people do still hook up during a war, right?”
“Look at you, throwing around the word ‘war’ just like Maleshi.”
“Equally creepy is that it only took you twenty-four hours to stop calling her Mattie.”
The halfling ran her hands down her face and groaned. “I don’t think Mattie Bergmann’s coming back, at least not anytime soon. That Nightstalker general is one seriously nutso badass.”
“It makes perfect sense why you still like her so much.” Ember grinned and spread her arms. “If you were a cat-woman, you’d wanna grow up to be just like her.”
“Nah, I wanna grow up to be just like me, thanks.”
The fae pumped her arm and talked out of the side of her mouth. “That’sh the shpirit.”
“Why did
