Ember pushed up on the armrests to readjust herself in the chair, trying to hide a wince of discomfort the minute it crossed her face. “For a halfling who carried me from Jackson Ward to the hospital, you seem a little low on arm strength this morning.”
“You don’t.”
“I’m chalking it up to all the rock-climbing.” Ember waved the half-drow off and shrugged. “Good thing I picked that up when I did, am I right?”
Cheyenne watched her friend and bit her bottom lip. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re making jokes or being serious and trying to cover it with sarcasm.”
Ember snorted. “Probably both. I’m testing the waters with self-deprecating humor. You of all people get that.” She shot the halfling a sidelong glance with a little smirk, then grabbed both wheels and tried to push herself forward. The chair only moved a few inches before she gave up. “I hate carpet!”
“You got a little farther than the one attempt yesterday.”
“It’s not a new hatred, either, and now it’s getting in the way of me being able to do anything.” The fae dropped her hands in her lap with a thump and glared at the opposite wall of her bedroom.
Cheyenne let her have a moment. We both knew this might get a little bumpy. “Em?”
Ember closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah.”
“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay, ‘cause there’s not a simple answer for that one.” The other girl snorted and shook her head, her eyes still closed. “But I will ask you if you’re ready to get pushed into the bathroom, betting that your text this morning was a minor emergency.”
A tiny, breathless laugh escaped Ember, and she nodded. “Everything’s a minor emergency right now.”
“Fair enough. I’m ready to tackle them one at a time when you are.” The fae’s lower lip started to tremble, so Cheyenne stepped toward the back of the wheelchair and gripped the handlebars. She’ll cry or she won’t. Not gonna stand there waiting for a show. “Just say when.”
“When, Cheyenne.” The other woman nodded and sniffed, then lifted a finger toward her open bedroom door. “Onward, halfling. For glory.”
“Okay, I’ll let that rallying cry slip into the passable category this time. Might be worth it to brush up on famous pre-battle speeches.”
“I’ve only been home for a day, okay? Give a girl some time.” Ember sniffed again, wiped her nose, and let out a little chuckle. “I’ve got some smiting to do in the bathroom.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cheyenne rummaged through her friend’s overnight tote on the floor beside the bed and pulled out Ember’s toiletries bag. Out came the toothbrush and toothpaste, and the halfling handed them over with a smirk. “Can’t smite anything without your weapons.”
“Right.” Ember nodded and pointed with her toothbrush toward the bedroom door. “Onward.”
Chuckling, Cheyenne grabbed the wheelchair’s handles again and pushed much faster than she had to across the room, out into the hallway, and into the bathroom on the other side. The magicless fae let out a whoop that was supposed to be a battle cry, and they burst out laughing as the wheelchair squeaked to a stop beside the sink. “We’ll have to work on that one.”
Ember opened the toothpaste and waved it at her friend. “Top of my list, halfling.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Closing the driver’s side door of her Panamera, Cheyenne turned toward Ember in the passenger seat and grinned. “I have a feeling all the hard work’s out of the way, Em. Nothin’ but fun today. All day.”
Ember snorted. “I appreciate you playing hooky to go apartment-shopping with me, and I’m not gonna tell you to just drop me off somewhere so you can get to class.” The fae buckled her seatbelt and gave the halfling a tight smile. “You sure missing classes today isn’t screwing with your endgame?”
Cheyenne laughed. “I have an endgame, huh?”
“Yeah, you know, like a master’s degree.”
“Right. The endgame of all endgames.” The halfling wiggled her eyebrows, her head wobbling in fake enthusiasm. “I want it for sure, but there are a lot more important things than getting a piece of paper with my name on it and VCU’s stamp of approval. You’re one of them.”
“Well, that’s awfully open-minded of you.”
“Very funny.” Gripping the steering wheel, Cheyenne pressed the start button, and the engine purred to life. “Win-win for both of us today. My classes were canceled.”
“All of them?”
“Yep.” Cheyenne backed out of the parking spot at the front of the apartment building and headed out of the lot toward the street. “If you think that’s weird, try opening an email from your favorite professor with all your other professors CC-ed on it, saying they all had a little chat about your career in graduate education and decided they were gonna change things up to be ‘in the best interest of all parties involved.’”
Ember laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Right? They told me to forget about my classes today and join them for a meeting tomorrow night instead.”
“On a Saturday.”
“On a Saturday at six o’clock, Em.”
They both laughed as Cheyenne drove them out toward the center of town.
Ember tucked her hair behind her ears and shook her head. “That’s weird. Doesn’t sound like they’re trying to make you drop out, though. Hey, maybe they’ll have you update all their systems. Or write new ones. A total overhaul of the university servers and they’re just calling it learning so they don’t have to pay you.”
The Panamera rolled to a stop at the next red light, and Cheyenne turned slowly to shoot her friend a sidelong glance. Then they burst out laughing again. “You know what? If they want me to do glorified IT maintenance to earn my master’s and they don’t have to kick me out, I’ll take ‘em up on that. Get the whole thing done and out
