“You’re gonna answer every single question I ask, got it?”
Frowning, he looked her up and down as much as he could, as close as she was, and shook his head. “You handle all your complaints like this, or do I give off some kinda vibe?”
Cheyenne let the heat of her drow magic flare through her and made the transformation in an instant.
Marsil’s hands banged against the shelves behind him in surrender. “Woah, woah. Okay. You don’t have to go that far. I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.”
“The truth.” She shoved him against the shelf again, and a box of latex gloves glanced off his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
He swallowed. “Sure.”
“You said Ember Gaderow was my Nós Aní. That I’d made the right choice. Who else knows?”
“That you and I had a conversation two days ago?”
“That that’s what you think she is to me.” Cheyenne shoved him back again and leaned her fists on his collarbones.
“Just me!” Marsil breathed heavily and stared at her glowing golden eyes. “Okay, and Dr. Boseley, but you already knew she was one of us. That’s it. I didn’t have a chance to tell anyone else.”
“How many other magicals work in this clinic?”
The man’s eyelids fluttered rapidly as he tried to think. “F-five. Total.”
Cheyenne sneered and leaned in until their noses almost touched. “How many of you are loyal to the Ogúl Crown?”
“What?”
“Answer me!”
He jerked away from her and slipped on the scattered supplies. Cheyenne dragged him back up and pinned him in place against the shelf again. As he searched her fiery gaze, his eyes darting back and forth between each of hers, his startled fear slipped away. “None of us. That’s why I came to talk to you. If I was one of those nutjob loyalists, you really think I’d just walk up to the one drow the Crown wants dead more than anyone in both worlds for a little chat? And then let her leave?”
Cheyenne leaned away from him. “You know about that?”
“Well, yeah. Anyone who wants to see O’gúl monarch’s head fly knows about that. You, the Crown’s bounty on your head, your father—”
“You know L’zar?”
“I mean, not personally.”
Cheyenne slowly released Marsil’s uniform and took one small step backward. “Prove it.”
“That I know who L’zar Verdys is?”
“That you’re not one of those nutjob loyalists.”
The man sputtered and gazed around the cramped supply closet. Then he grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it down to expose his neck. “I don’t wear jewelry anyway, but you don’t see a bull’s head, do you?”
“No.” Cheyenne looked him over and shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean anything if you’ve been waiting at this clinic for the right time to make your move. Or to use your job to steal blood samples from VCU Medical Center.”
Marsil shook out the front of his shirt and shrugged to rearrange it. “Now you’ve lost me.”
“Ember’s blood. For tracking her to get to me. Know anything about that?”
He met her gaze. “Only that whoever did take fae blood to track your Nós Aní either has a serious set of cajones or a single brain cell. She’s okay, right?”
“She’s fine.” Stepping back across the closet, Cheyenne folded her arms and nodded. Nobody trying to collect a bounty on my head is gonna ask about Ember, or stand here and let me shove them against a shelf without fighting back. “I need to know who broke into the hospital so I can wipe out what they have on her, at the very least.”
“I’m sorry, Cheyenne.” Marsil slowly shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything about that. But I swear on my life and on House Keldryk that I’ve been loyal to the Cu’ón since I was old enough to make the choice. And I’ll do it again.”
“Okay. Maybe I made a rushed assumption.”
Marsil thumped a fist against his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Right now. Marsil Keldryk. By the blood of my house, I swear fealty to Cheyenne, uh…”
She forced a tight smile. “Summerlin.”
“Cheyenne Summerlin.” His lips parted in a crooked, determined smile. “On my life, I’ll follow you. I swear fealty to L’zar Verdys, the Cu’ón, and the four-pointed star rising against the O’gúl Crown. Everything I have. All of it’s yours.”
Cheyenne took a deep breath and slipped back into her human form. Then she rubbed the back of her neck and nodded. “Okay, I gotta admit, that part was pretty convincing.”
“It better be.” He lowered his fist and chuckled. “You’ve never heard that before, have you?”
“No, but I understand what’s behind it.”
“Good. You’ll be hearing a lot more of that pretty soon, I’m sure.”
They stared at each other in the cramped, disheveled supply closet. The halfling shrugged and cocked her head. “Sorry I slammed you against the shelves.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can take a hit. Sorry I gave you a reason to think you couldn’t trust me, or that I’d do anything to hurt Ember. That’s not what this is about.”
“Yeah, I realize that now.”
“Okay. Then we’re good.” With a quick glance at the door, he sidled along the shelf and paused with his hand around the doorknob. “Where is she, by the way? She’s got a session now, right?”
“She’s out in the car.”
“Ah. Waiting for you to tell her whether House Keldryk turned traitor, huh? Well, twice, I guess. According to O’gúl law, we’re all traitors, aren’t we?”
Cheyenne smirked. “I guess so.”
He nodded, looked her over one more time, then opened the door. “I gotta go pull some charts. Should I tell Dr. Boseley Ember’s still coming in?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll go get her.”
“Okay.” Marsil held the door open for her as she left the supply closet, chuckling when the halfling kicked a loose piece of plastic packaging someone had apparently forgotten to throw away. “I’ll
