The fae chuckled. “No pain, no gain, right?”
Cheyenne whirled around to shoot her friend an exasperated glance. “The last time someone told me that, I was barely conscious and strapped to a hospital bed that wasn’t anywhere near a hospital with handcuffs that turned off my magic.”
Ember wrinkled her nose. “Trigger identified.”
With a snort, the halfling looked down at her puncture-free hands, then grabbed the jar and screwed the lid back on tight. “A blast from the past. Trust me, you could call me every derogatory term in the book, and it wouldn’t sound as stupid as when Sir says, ‘Good work, halfling.’” The accuracy of her impersonation made her laugh, then she shrugged back into her black jacket, grabbed her backpack, shoved the salve back into the bottom, and nodded at the living room.
With a raised eyebrow, Ember wheeled backward out of the doorway, and Cheyenne closed the door behind her. “Time to open that box, I guess.”
“Let me know how that goes.”
The halfling looked over her shoulder at her friend as she headed for the puzzle box on the couch. “Don’t I always?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m any less curious about whatever special prize is in there.”
The Cuil Aní joined the darktongue salve at the bottom of her pack, then she zipped it up and slipped the straps over her shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a bomb or something. One last test, right? If L’zar’s halfling kid can walk through fire and magical shrapnel, then we’ll know she’s ready.”
Ember let out a laugh. “You’ll be fine.”
“I know. I just wanna get this over with.” Cheyenne headed to the door and paused. “You good here, Em? Like, we have food and stuff?”
“Hey, the fae who’s getting her magic back doesn’t need a babysitter either.” Ember pointed at the door. “Get out.”
“Yeah, okay. Call me if anything weird happens, huh? Just in case.”
“Seriously, leave.”
Smirking, the halfling slipped out the door, closed it behind her, and pulled her phone out of her back pocket as she headed down the hall toward the elevator. I can’t remember the last time I talked this much on the phone in one day.
Corian picked up as the elevator doors opened. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m heading down to my car right now. You guys all at the warehouse?” The doors closed, and the halfling heard muffled laughter in the background. “Corian?”
The line went dead, and she stared at her phone. Everyone’s crazy today.
A dark circle of light bloomed in the air in front of her. The next second, Corian’s feral grin greeted her. His hand snaked out to snatch her wrist, and he tugged her through the portal and into Persh’al’s warehouse in DC.
Staggering forward, Cheyenne jerked her wrist out of his grip and glanced behind her. The portal was gone. “Come on, man. Seriously?”
“I know you like your car and everything, kid.” The nightstalker chuckled and folded his arms. “But this is one of those things that really can’t wait.”
“Yeah, I get that part.” The halfling glanced around and found Persh’al, Byrd, Lumil, and L’zar gathered in front of Persh’al’s tables of computers, all of them grinning at her like insane magicals.
“Right on, kid.” Byrd slow clapped until Lumil slapped his hands down and shook her head.
“Uh, thanks?”
“The trials, Cheyenne.” Lumil folded her arms and nodded, the dark scar encircling her green neck glinting in the warehouse lights as she pursed her lips through a smile. “We weren’t sure you’d get there.”
“I was.” L’zar had changed into someone’s loose black pants and gray button-down shirt, probably Persh’al’s. The pant legs were a little short.
Persh’al scoffed. “Oh, yeah? So sure that you played drow prisoner for twenty years longer than you had to?”
L’zar glanced at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “I knew the second she came to see me in the Dungeon.” The drow’s eyes widened as he mocked Chateau D’rahl’s best attempt at a high-security visitation room.
Cheyenne slipped her pack off her shoulders and headed across the warehouse to set it on the table. She stopped when she saw the magical with cracked silver skin like scales tied to one of the rolling desk chairs with yards of tightly woven nylon rope. His hands were bound behind his back with a magical zip-tie pulsing with electric blue light, and his face was scraped, bloody, and grotesquely swollen. She could see that much, even with his chin dropped to his chest. “Who’s that?”
“Huh?” Persh’al looked up at their scaly prisoner strapped to the chair and shrugged.
“Forget about the magical beneath the ropes, kid.” Corian nodded at Lumil, who jumped to attention and took off to wheel the unconscious lizard-looking guy across the warehouse toward what turned out to be a dark supply closet. The chair’s wheels squeaked with every rotation until the goblin woman shoved the magical into the closet and pulled the door shut with a bang.
She dusted off her hands and marched back to the group with a satisfied nod.
Cheyenne stared at the closet door, then slowly turned toward Corian. “Is that the guy with all the O’gúl tech?”
“We can talk about that later.” L’zar clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward. “I want to watch you open the Cuil Aní.”
The eyes centered on her made Cheyenne’s skin itch. She cast them all a dubious glance, then finished her trip toward the table and set her backpack down. “Any way you guys can make this a little less creepy?”
No one said a word.
“Okay.” She unzipped her backpack and slowly drew out the legacy box, all of its thinly carved runes now glowing with a bright inner light.
Persh’al sucked in a sharp breath, the box’s light casting a dazzling reflection in his yellow eyes. Byrd’s mouth fell open, and Lumil didn’t bother to elbow him in the ribs to shut it.
Turning the box over in her hands, Cheyenne shrugged. “It’s not like this
