“But there are downsides, right?”
“It depends on how you look at it. A Nós Aní’s responsibilities are as unpredictable and complicated as the drow they serve. And no, I don’t mean I’m L’zar’s servant. If that offer were on the table, I’d run away screaming.”
Ember laughed softly. “Me too.”
“If you choose this, Ember, know that it’s for the rest of your life. I supposed there’s a certain truth to what Cheyenne said, that it’s like a best friend or a second in command, and it’s so much more. You could be her friend forever, and that wouldn’t change anything. But a drow, and apparently even a drow halfling, is much more powerful with a Nós Aní at their side. Or in my case, an hour away from Chateau D’rahl for the last seventy-five years or so.”
“So, I won’t have to live with her forever, then?”
The nightstalker snorted. “Was that a serious question?”
“Not really.”
“Good.” He scratched his forehead and inhaled deeply. “There’s a ceremony for this. Nothing grotesque or painful. You won’t have to cut yourself or make any sacrifices. It is a drow ceremony, which can make things rather odd, with a tendency to throw in surprises just for fun. After that, though, you and Cheyenne would be bound together by magic and a bloodline that goes farther back than even L’zar and I do.”
“And there’s no turning back.”
“Right. I believe I said that already.”
Ember ran a hand through her hair and turned to look into the blue eyes she knew were silver underneath. “What’s in it for the Nós Aní?”
Beneath his human illusion, the nightstalker’s grin bordered on terrifying. “A strengthening of your inherent magic. Which, by the way, I believe you possess much more of than you’ve seen so far.”
“Go on.”
His soft chuckle sounded more like a growl. “When it comes to L’zar Verdys, and of course, his daughter, a chosen Nós Aní is essentially untouchable.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Like, I can’t get hurt?”
“I didn’t say invincible. We can still get hurt, and I have more times than I can count. But most magicals on both sides of the Border are smart enough to back down from any drow’s Nós Aní. The consequences of picking a fight with the wrong one are quite severe.”
Ember squinted at the human-looking nightstalker and cocked her head. “Anything else?”
“Hmm. Lifelong position, magically bound to a drow, more or less elevated status, stronger magic, and unwavering dedication. I suppose it goes without saying that it’s important to like the drow.”
“You like L’zar?”
Smirking, Corian shrugged. “Most of the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to wring his neck on occasion. Someday I might try it. That’s about it. Now that you know, is it something you’re willing to take on?”
Ember turned in her seat again and stared at the entrance to the clinic. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Of course it is.”
“Good. We’ll set something up in a day or two to make it official. Of course, Cheyenne will have to agree to it, though I have a feeling she already has.”
“She won’t if we tell her this is a one-way street for me with no way out.”
“Probably.” Corian folded his arms and gazed out the window at the half-full parking lot. “I’ll leave it up to you as to how much you want to tell her before the ceremony.”
“Why is that up to me?”
“Because that’s what a Nós Aní does.”
“All right. I’ll figure it out.”
“I know you will. And I’m happy to hear this is your choice. Cheyenne’s going to need as much support as she can get for what she’s about to do.”
Cheyenne stood in the lobby of the physical therapy clinic with her arms folded, shooting challenging glares at anyone who dared to look the Goth chick in the eyes. If he’s not out here by the time I count to thirty, I’ll rip through this place and go after him. One, two…
An unmarked door opened on the other side of the lobby, and a short woman in scrubs nodded toward Cheyenne. “Right over there.”
Beside her stood Marsil Keldryk, AKA George Gardener. Despite the woman’s nervous frown, Marsil’s eyes lit up when he saw Cheyenne, and he nodded at her before stepping into the lobby. “Thanks, Cheryl.”
Cheryl cast the angry-looking Goth chick a fleeting glance, then disappeared on the other side of the door and pulled it shut behind her.
“I gotta admit, I was a little confused when I heard someone was out here asking for me personally. That doesn’t happen. I’m still a little confused, though.” The muscular assistant glanced around the lobby, his smile wavering uncertainly. “Where’s Ember?”
“We need to talk.” The halfling’s low voice bordered on a growl, and she slowly unfolded her arms. Calm and cool until he gives me a reason not to be. That’s it.
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“In private.”
Marsil looked around again. “Yeah, okay. Come on.” He nodded toward the hallway wrapping around this side of the glass room the clinic called the gym.
Cheyenne stalked after him, focusing the intensity of her gaze on the back of his head and the short dark curls that weren’t technically his. When the assistant stopped at another closed door at the end of the hall, he peered around the corner to be sure no one was watching and opened the door.
“The only room in this place I know nobody’s gonna come barging in on a private talk. Hey!”
The halfling shoved him through the open door and followed close on his heels, using all her willpower not to slam the door when she shut it behind her.
“Careful.” Marsil moved around, and something plastic fell and bounced across the floor. “Let me just find the light.”
As soon as the overhead bulb switched on, Cheyenne grabbed the man by the front of his scrub shirt and pushed him against the wall, only the wall was a shelving unit in the supply closet. Rolls of stacked toilet
