The magicals around the table shut up and stared at the drow halfling. Persh’al giggled and covered his mouth up with a blue hand.
Cheyenne turned back to L’zar and raised her eyebrows. “Who’s Venga?”
The drow thief chuckled. “Something of a friend, you might say. More or less.”
Corian snorted and folded his arms, slowly shaking his head.
“That doesn’t instill a lot of confidence.”
“Well, at the very least, Cheyenne, he’s far more of a friend to us than to the Spider.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne looked at her father and Corian. “Think he’s someone I can put on the roster for potential new Crown?”
“For potential…ha! Absolutely not!” L’zar threw his head back and laughed. His dark voice echoed around the vaulted ceilings and glass walls of Bianca’s stately home.
Cheyenne glared at him. If that doesn’t wake Mom up, she’s definitely still cursed.
When he’d finished laughing, the Weaver sniffed and gave her a condescending smile. “Not that kind of friend, but he is someone who can help us put down the loyalists on this side, at the very least. At the most—and here’s to hoping for that—Venga will be able to access the rest of the information we can use as leverage against Ba’rael. An added bonus, you might say. Far more effective when it trades hands from one old friend to another.”
“And he’s a prisoner at Chateau D’rahl?” Rhynehart asked.
“Indeed.”
“Then why the hell don’t I recognize the name?”
“Oh.” L’zar feigned surprise. “I wasn’t aware you knew the names of every inmate in that hulk of rock, human.”
“You’re not aware of a lot of things, including how much time I’ve spent in that prison beyond chaperoning father-daughter visits.”
“Of course.” The drow thief gave Rhynehart a hideously fake smile of understanding and dipped his head. “Does the name Vinny ring a bell?”
Rhynehart stood abruptly from his chair with the loud screech of wood scooting across wood. “Fuck you. No!”
“No, you don’t recognize the name?”
“No, we’re not breaking that thing out of Chateau D’rahl! Goddammit. Just when I’m starting to think you might not be as crazy as everyone thinks you are!”
L’zar chuckled. “I’m flattered.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” The agent thumped a fist on the table. “Do you have any idea how much of our resources we put into keeping Vinny in there?”
“His real name is Venga.” The drow gave Rhynehart a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you can understand an appreciation for calling something or someone by their real name, can’t you?”
“I don’t care if we call him Mary fucking Poppins. We’re not breaking him out!”
Cheyenne and the FRoE agents shot Rhynehart confused looks. He was starting to sound like Sir. Another one bites the dust.
Rhynehart seemed to realize that, and no matter how deeply he frowned to try hiding it, the light flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks was unmistakable.
“And I do know, by the way,” L’zar added casually.
“Know what?” The team leader folded his arms and couldn’t help but glance quickly around the table at everyone watching him argue with the mad drow thief.
“How much of your resources you put into keeping Venga locked up. I should know, at any rate. I spent seventy-five years in that sandcastle you call a prison.”
Rhynehart scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t think breaking him out is all it’s gonna take to get the guy to agree to anything I’m involved in, at the very least.”
“Why? Were you the one who put him away?”
“Something like that.” Scowling, the operative slowly lowered himself into his chair and scooted toward the table again. “Why would he help us at all? Why would he help you?”
“Why, indeed.” L’zar smoothed his white hair away from his face with both hands, tossed his head back, and interlaced his fingers behind it again as he stared up at the bright blue sky through the wall of windows. “Venga will help me because he used to be one of Ba’rael’s most fervent disciples. And I believe he owes me a blood debt.”
Cheyenne groaned. “Are you serious?”
Her father dipped his head and spread his arms, a sly smile playing on his lips.
“Who the hell is this Ba’rael?” Rhynehart grumbled. “You guys are throwing that name around like it’s fucking candy.”
“Yeah.” Byrd snorted. “The poisonous kind.”
Lumil frowned at him in question before slapping his shoulder.
“Ow.”
When Cheyenne met Ember’s gaze, the fae shrugged and shook her head. Guess I’m running on my own counsel right now, like everybody else. Rolling her eyes, she leaned toward Rhynehart. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Ba’rael Verdys. L’zar Verdys’ older sister. Technically, that makes her my aunt. And she’s the Crown of Ambar’ogúl.”
“The Crown?” Rhynehart raised his eyebrows and looked lost.
“Yeah. The drow dictator of the entire world over there, who’s responsible for all the new Border portals, the war machines, that portal ridge exploding on us, the curse on my mom, oh, and the blight.”
“Your aunt?” Rhynehart scrunched up his face and looked between L’zar and the thief’s halfling daughter.
Cheyenne shrugged. “And I’m trying to kick her off the throne so I can take her place. Temporarily. Mostly to fix all the shit she’s screwed up over the last few thousand years. So now you know.” She stared at the table and slowly lifted her gaze to look at Rhynehart again.
The agent’s aggravated flush had disappeared, taking what was left of the color in his face with it. He stared at Cheyenne, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed. He replied in a harsh, grating whisper, “Jesus fuck.”
L’zar grinned at his daughter and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “This is so much fun.”
She shot him a warning glance and shook her head. “Yeah, fuck you too.”
“Moving past that,” Maleshi said, waving a dismissive hand at Cheyenne, scowling above folded arms, and L’zar, grinning stupidly at his daughter, “how are we supposed to pull off something like this? You walked out of that prison on your own. Venga can’t do that.”
“Oh, no. He most certainly cannot. Which is where
