“You’re telling me to torture Neros with this thing?”
“No, no, no. This is blackmail, Cheyenne. With everything else in your favor, I should think it highly unnecessary for you to use the Darkglass. Ba’rael will know what this is and what it does. You won’t have to say a thing. Just make sure she sees it.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne tucked the shrunken Darkglass carefully into the pocket of her trenchcoat and shrugged. “What about the terms?”
“Yes, of course.” Clasping his hands behind his back, L’zar bowed his head and cleared his throat. “There’s the Darkglass, naturally. And the fact that we found her son before she realized he could be found. Tell the Spider she is to step down immediately and remove herself from Hangivol, never to return. The rest of our world is fair game for her after that, though it’s a fitting punishment for her crimes in many ways.” His lips twitched into a morbid smirk. “She hates Ambar’ogúl almost as much as I do, and she has far fewer friends.”
Cheyenne blinked at her father. “It took you a week to come up with that three-item list?”
“Hmm. Be sure to mention the last Nimlothar in the Heart. She receives no alms from that tree, Cheyenne. That must be made perfectly clear.”
“No touching the tree or taking anything from it. Got it.”
“And be sure to offer her Nós Aní the option of remaining in Hangivol as part of your council once you turn your new Cycle.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Who’s her Nós Aní?”
L’zar’s characteristically sly grin spread slowly across his lips. “Ruuv’i.”
“Seriously? The other drow?” She shook her head. “I thought he was her husband or something.”
“The O’gúl equivalent of it, yes. Surely it doesn’t surprise you that my sister would bind another drow to her for eternity, both by magic and by law. He’s the father of her child, Cheyenne, but as her Nós Aní, he can never rule as the O’gúl Crown.”
“Christ. And Ruuv’i agreed to that?”
“He had little choice in the matter. As part of your terms, you will be offering him a rather weighty decision.” The drow thief stroked his hairless chin and tilted his head from side to side. “If I had to put money on it, I’d say Ruuv’i will gladly accept the new Crown’s offer to remain in the only home he’s ever known without Ba’rael commanding his every move, and that will isolate her. She won’t roll over easily or quickly, Cheyenne. Be firm. Don’t give her an inch, no matter what kind of tantrum she throws.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Guess that runs in the family too, huh?”
“Hmm. Among so many other things.” He looked past her at the magicals gathered around Corian. “And don’t forget, you have Venga with you now. If he doesn’t put the fear of the dead in Ba’rael Verdys’ already rotting heart, nothing will.”
“Okay. And that should be enough?”
“That is everything I can offer you on such short notice and without my physical presence.” L’zar tried to smile again, met her gaze briefly, and ducked away almost as if it hurt to look at his daughter. His throat clicked when he swallowed. “I will be with you in spirit, as the saying goes.”
“I sure as hell hope not.” She pointed at him and raised an eyebrow. “No Don’adurr Thread while I’m trying to overthrow a drow dictator. Got it?”
“With perfect clarity.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She eyed him, but the drow thief merely bowed his head and took a step back. What did I expect? It’s not like he’s gonna give me a fucking hug before I leave. Cheyenne turned to Corian and the others, feeling the weight of the Darkglass in her pocket like she’d filled her jacket with stones instead.
“Aranél.”
She stopped at the sound of her unwanted title spoken by her father. Raising her eyebrows, she slowly looked at him over her shoulder. “Weaver.”
L’zar lifted his chin and met her gaze. His golden eyes blazed with determination and a seriousness she’d seen there only a few times. “This is your birthright. Your bloodright. You are the blade that will cut out the rot. The chains will shatter, and blood and water will flow through Ambar’ogúl again as one. Don’t forget that.”
Cheyenne pursed her lips. “Somebody’s been paying too much attention to prophecies that don’t belong to him.”
Her father chuckled softly, his nostrils flaring. “What else would you expect from a thief?”
“Nothing.”
Before she could turn her head again, he stepped urgently over to her and stopped, his need to protect her at war with his knowledge of what lay ahead. “You are the heir to everything I am, Cheyenne, just as you are the heir to everything I am not. Surviving this final stage is a greater legacy than all the rest of it. If nothing else, claim that.”
He can’t just come out and say it, can he? Cheyenne nodded slowly, trying to hide a smile that forced itself onto her lips anyway. “A simple ‘good luck and don’t die’ works pretty well, you know.”
His eyes widened in surprise, then his low, dark chuckle built in the tense silence of the warehouse. “Good luck, Cheyenne. And don’t die. Please.”
“That’s the plan, Weaver.” With a final nod at her father, Cheyenne joined the other magicals waiting to make the crossing with her.
Ember bumped the halfling with her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Totally.” Cheyenne shot her friend a sidelong glance. “Let’s go pull down the Spider’s web and blow some shit up.”
Lumil let out a low whistle. “Damn, halfling. If that’s the last morale-boosting pep-talk I ever hear before an epic battle, it’s not half bad.”
“It better not be the last.” Just the first. Guess I’m a better leader than I thought. But I can lead like this from anywhere, and it sure as hell won’t be the Heart of Hangivol.
Corian’s portal shimmered in the air in front of them, and they stepped through into the night on
