“Time to move on the Heart, goblin.”
“Very funny, nightstalker. Try that joke again when it’s not the middle of the night.”
The door to L’zar’s small box of a private room flew open with a bang, and the drow thief stormed into the center of the warehouse. “What happened?”
“It’s Bianca.” Cheyenne forced her voice into a volume resembling reasonable and swallowed. “The curse is getting worse.”
“It’s scarring her, brother.” Corian tapped his chest. “With the four-pointed star now too.”
L’zar’s golden eyes widened, and he cast his daughter a sharp glance. “Then it has to be now.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re here.”
“And you’re ready?”
Cheyenne puffed out half a breath in disbelief and shrugged. “As soon as you hand me what I need to push Ba’rael off her damn throne, yeah.”
“Good.” He looked her up and down, then clapped his hands together. “Everybody up!”
His voice boomed through the warehouse, magically intensified to a volume that made the bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling sway and dust rain down on the cement floor. All around them, the rebel magicals camping in Persh’al’s warehouse roused themselves out of sleep.
“Endaru’s balls, L’zar!” Persh’al half-climbed, half-fell off the sagging couch against the wall behind his computer table. “It’s too early for—”
“It’s time, Persh’al.” L’zar nodded. “We’re moving up the turning of the new Cycle to tonight. Cheyenne needs all of you, so pull your shit together and fulfill your vows as they were meant to be fulfilled.”
Byrd snarled and slapped both hands on the cement floor before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. “I knew you were impatient, drow, but this is—”
“This isn’t about me.” L’zar ran a hand down his face and turned slightly away from the others, then gestured at Cheyenne. “Ask her.”
“It’s about Bianca,” Cheyenne muttered. “The Crown’s curse got worse. A lot worse. We have to bring Ba’rael down now before my mom—” She swallowed and couldn’t finish the sentence. That’s not gonna happen, Cheyenne. Pull your shit together and make sure that doesn’t happen.
Ember put a hand on the halfling’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “She’ll be okay. We’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“I know, Em. Thanks.”
Corian stuck his phone back in his pocket, and two seconds later, Maleshi appeared through a portal. “How you doin’, Cheyenne?”
The halfling shook her head. “How do you think?”
“Good. If you said you were prepared for this, I’d think you’d lost your mind.”
“Not sure I haven’t.”
A low growl rose from the corner of the warehouse opposite L’zar’s room, then Venga’s hunched form rose from a pile of thin woolen blankets. He saw everyone gathered on the warehouse floor and snorted. “And here I thought I would have to wait.”
“Not anymore, old friend.” L’zar smoothed his hair away from his face and nodded, staring at the cement floor. “Which portal will you take?”
Venga chuckled, hiking up his loose jeans with two scaly hands and scratching viciously under an armpit with a third. “You say that as if there were a shortage of options, Weaver.”
“Technically, there is.” Maleshi folded her arms. “The portal leading into the Heart was destroyed, and the portal ridge the Bull’s Head used as a smuggling port is still down. I checked.”
“So, no more secret portals to Ambar’ogúl.” Cheyenne rubbed her forehead and turned in a tight circle. “Look, I know it was a sore topic last time because L’zar was with us, but now he can’t make the crossing again. Our only option is one of the reservations, right?”
The warehouse fell silent. Then Venga burst out laughing and slapped the scaly belly showing beneath his unzipped leather jacket. “Indeed!”
Ember pressed her lips together and stared at the scaleback. “Like I said, total mad scientist.”
“I find it very amusing, fae. The organization trying to keep all us magicals in line, trying to keep us away from the Border, is the very same institution that will fall if we do not deceive them for this.”
Byrd snorted. “More like you’re gettin’ off at the idea of stickin’ it to your jailors. Am I right or what, scaleback?”
Venga grinned, his forked tongue flickering between his lips. “Perhaps that plays a part in it. A small part.”
“So, which rez will it be?” Cheyenne asked. “The only one I really know is Rez 38.”
“It’s as good as any.” Corian sniffed and stepped away from the group to summon a portal into the FRoE regulated reservation for O’gúleesh refugees from the other side.
Only this time, we’re the ones hopping across that portal at the edge of a cliff. That’ll be fun.
“Cheyenne.” L’zar turned halfway to her, his golden eyes roaming everywhere but her face, and crooked his finger. “A moment, if you will.”
“Sure.” Cheyenne exchanged confused glances with Ember but followed her father to the other side of the warehouse. “What is it?”
“A few necessities for your journey. If all goes according to plan, I imagine this will be your last crossing for quite some time.”
“Well, nobody’s exiled me with a curse just yet.”
“Yes. Very funny. Wait here.” He darted into his tiny bedroom in a blur of white and gray, then reappeared in another burst of air where he’d just stood. “The Darkglass, of course. We went through a bit of trouble to procure this.”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “Just a bit.”
A humorless chuckle escaped L’zar as he lifted the O’gúl case of black metal and glass to her. “I took the liberty of making it travel-sized for you. It’s what this device carries that’s important.”
She reached for the miniaturized Darkglass with both hands and couldn’t help but stare at the pulsing white light suspended at its center. “That’s the metal star you made of—”
“Neros’ magic, yes.” L’zar bowed his head as he released the device. “Our little visit to your cousin wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be, but it wasn’t fruitless, either.”
Cheyenne swallowed and turned the Darkglass over in her hands. “What do I do with this?”
“Ah. Think
