Cheyenne nodded back and took a sip of her drink. She’s sitting right next to Corian like nothing ever happened. No idea Persh’al’s been lying to all of them.
“Foltr.” L’zar sat back casually in his chair at the head of the table and smiled at the raug. “I know you’re a stickler for details, but I’m sure this can wait until we’ve all had our fill of victory.”
“You’ve already had your fill, Weaver.” Foltr looked the drow thief up and down. “You’ve been having your fill since you opened your mouth for your first lie. Do us all a favor and shut it now unless someone asks you a direct question.”
“Your bite hasn’t aged a century.” L’zar laughed and thumped his fist on the table. “I’ve missed you.”
“That makes one of us.” Foltr grunted, but a small smile flickered at the wrinkled corners of his gray mouth. “The last time the Aranél sat at this table with a less complete assembly, she was clueless about her part to play in this grander scheme.”
Cheyenne choked on her Bloodshine and tried to play it off as choking on a laugh. “Thanks. It was that obvious, huh?”
Across the table, Elarit leaned back in her chair with a knowing smirk. “Glaringly.”
Foltr waved aside the troll woman’s comment and fixed Cheyenne with his scrutinizing gaze. “You walked through a river of fire to be here for our city. For this world, which is the only world most of us in this room have ever known. You know another, Cheyenne. Whatever knowledge you carry with you of our kind on Earth differs vastly from what you know of Ambar’ogúl and its history. Which is next to nothing, it would seem.”
She pointed at the wizened raug and raised an eyebrow. “I do know the Crown is my aunt.”
L’zar chuckled. Corian dipped his head and stared at the black metal surface of the table, unsuccessfully hiding a small smile. Maleshi slurped fellwine from her silver-plated skull.
The old raug grunted. “That discovery was by necessity, yes. A good thing to know. It changes nothing.” He thumped his stick on the stone floor again and settled both gnarled, clawed hands over the round knob on top. “Tonight, you’ll learn what you’re fighting for, Aranél. Not because you asked, but because you are owed the truth. After what you’ve accomplished today, we owe you the truth.”
While the rest of the rebels drank and laughed and got into half-playful skirmishes, an expectant silence hung over the magicals sitting at the central table. Foltr gazed at each of them with narrowed orange-brown eyes, daring anyone to challenge the decision he’d made for everyone.
“I’ll start then, eh?” L’zar steepled his fingers and rested both hands on the table, leaning forward with a feral grin. “I never had my doubts that we’d reach this moment.”
Corian barked out a laugh. “I believe the raug wanted to start and end this conversation with the truth.”
“If you’re looking for a heartfelt confession from me tonight, brother, you’ll be disappointed. I don’t lie and tell.”
Corian rubbed his mouth, his tufted, catlike ears twitching as he shook his head. Elarit rolled her eyes and buried a smart remark in her tankard of fellwine.
Maleshi’s chair scooted backward with a screech of metal on stone before the general stood, swinging her skull cup to the side to avoid spilling it on the line of magicals sitting at the table. Hooking her boot around the metal chair leg, she pulled out the empty chair on the other side of Ember and thumped down into it. She narrowed her eyes at the other members of the Four-Pointed Star across the table, then leaned forward to peer past Ember at Cheyenne. The silver curve of the skull-shaped cup didn’t leave her hand. “I think we should start at the beginning.”
“For the love of everything I despise, General!” L’zar thumped back in his chair. “I didn’t come all this way to listen to how Ba’rael Verdys filled her throne room with shit.”
Ember snorted, and when L’zar turned his golden eyes to her, she stared at the table and hid her smile with another long drink from her tankard.
Maleshi fixed her gaze on the drow at the head of the table and cocked her head. “And I didn’t come all this way to listen to you tell me what I can and can’t say in your royal presence, Cu’ón. Keep at it, and there will be another battle tonight. And you won’t have your daughter to do the heavy lifting for you.”
L’zar raised an eyebrow and nodded once.
“Prince among thieves, huh?” Cheyenne muttered. “Literally.”
Foltr hissed and raised his tankard to his lips. Only when he’d finished drinking did she realize he’d been laughing too.
Slurping from her skull again, Maleshi met Cheyenne’s gaze. “The only true beginning to the story that has anything to do with anything these days is how the Crown turned the new Cycle herself and put all this into play.”
“To be clear,” Corian added, “L’zar’s always been a dick. That goes all the way back to the beginning.”
The table erupted in laughter. Foltr thumped his cane on the floor as he chuckled in grunting bursts. Maleshi and Corian raised their drinks toward L’zar in another toast and drank. The drow joined them, his golden eyes glowing as he gazed at every face at the table.
Except mine. Cheyenne smiled with the others as they made their infuriating leader the brunt of more jokes. He hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down.
“The drow Crown K’laht sired two offspring,” Foltr began.
“Two fell-dawn spawn,” L’zar added quickly with another toast to no one.
“L’zar’s the baby brother.” Maleshi swirled the dregs of her fellwine around and around in the bottom of the silver skull. “Which explains quite a bit, when you think about it.”
“I’ve earned my titles, thank you very much.”
“Dark Smiling Weaver.” Cheyenne stared at her father, who gave her a sidelong glance for half a second before dipping his head and taking another drink.
“That’s one
