Barking a laugh, the halfling took a long pull from her goblet of Bloodshine and scrunched her nose at the bubbles that hadn’t calmed since she’d poured her one and only drink.
Maleshi howled the ridiculously violent, bloodthirsty O’gúleesh song and thrust her fist at Corian when he walked alongside the table toward Cheyenne. Chuckling, he shook his head and waved the general’s antics off before taking the empty seat beside the halfling.
“A part of me should’ve expected things to turn out like this tonight.” He practically tossed his half-empty drink onto the table and slumped in his chair. “And I’m still surprised.”
Cheyenne snorted. “Because Maleshi isn’t usually the ‘get up and dance on the table’ type? Or because she is?”
“Who knows?” When Corian turned to look at the halfling, his body moved with his head, swaying in his chair. “We might not have another chance to talk like this after tonight, depending on how things go in the next few days.”
“Oh, good. So get your deep, philosophical time in now while you still can.”
“No philosophy tonight, kid,” The nightstalker said, “I aim to drink myself into the depths of the abyss and fell-damn the rest.”
“I can see that.”
He chuckled and picked up his tankard again, pausing with it halfway to his lips. “I wanted to tell you I’m proud of you, Cheyenne. You did everything that was asked of you. Sure, you complained a little, but who wouldn’t?”
She laughed. “You can stop the compliments right there, man. I get it.”
“I’m serious. I’d stand behind a halfling who complains sometimes but follows through with everything she has any day. I do, and I will for as long as I can. It’s a hell of a lot better than trying to back someone who talks themselves up too much and can’t pull their own weight. Not saying you ever did that, by the way.”
“I know. I’m not a big talker.”
Corian hissed and bowed his head. “Am I crashing your private party over here?”
Cheyenne sat back in her chair, watching Maleshi’s riotous, drunken march across the other end of the table as the rebels sang with her. “Nah, you’re good. For a wasted nightstalker.”
“Tonight, that’s exactly what I am.”
“Let me ask you something, though.”
Corian lifted his head and shot her a crooked grin. “You picked a good time for it, kid. I’m an open book.”
“Okay.” Chuckling, Cheyenne nodded across the chamber at L’zar, who’d propped himself up with a hand on the wall and was pumping his tankard to the rhythm of the song, grinning the whole time. “That promise you made to L’zar…”
The nightstalker stuck a finger in the air. “The promise I kept.”
“Right. The promise and the secret were the same thing, weren’t they?”
Corian swiveled his head toward her and raised his eyebrows. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, halfling. That list stretches to eternity and back again.”
“Of course it does.” Cheyenne grabbed the tankard from him and took a small sip of fellwine, squeezing her eyes shut as the green liquor burned down her throat and instantly into her veins. “Your promise to L’zar not to tell me who I really am. The daughter of an O’gúl prince. The Crown’s niece and heir to the throne. That was why you wouldn’t answer half my questions, wasn’t it?”
Corian slowly took his drink back from her and managed to look sober enough to hold her gaze. “He didn’t want you to know because he didn’t want it to go to your head.”
She leaned away from him with a dubious look. “Why would it?”
“Ah.” The nightstalker lifted his tankard in L’zar’s general direction and hissed out a laugh. “Because he let it go to his head. And because the asshole loves surprises.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” They chuckled, and Cheyenne folded her arms. “That’s the most straightforward, honest answer you’ve given me since we met.”
“In this world, kid, the truth isn’t the great equalizer all you humans seem to think it is. Well, not you. You’re obviously not human.”
“I get it.”
He hissed out another laugh and set his cup in his lap. “The truth in Ambar’ogúl has to be earned. We all have a right to it, but not everyone deserves it. If anyone in this room deserves the truth tonight, it’s you.”
“Damn straight it is.”
Corian laughed and shook his head. “You earned it, plain and simple. It won’t set you free, either. Shit’s gonna get a lot more complicated after this.”
“I can handle complicated.” The halfling cracked a smile as Maleshi thrust her silver skull in the air with a roar, raining fizzy green fellwine down on everything around her. The rebels started chanting something Cheyenne couldn’t understand and the general leaped off the table, caught by the outstretched arms of L’zar’s followers thumping her on the back and toasting General Hi’et’s return to Ambar’ogúl.
Just as long as I don’t have to turn against what I believe in. Still not sure that isn’t part of the deal.
Chapter Eight
Cheyenne had no way to tell how long she sat at that table watching L’zar’s rebels drink themselves into a stupor, but by the time she started feeling tired, it couldn’t really be called a party anymore. Some of the magicals, like Nu’ek and Foltr, had removed themselves some time ago to turn in. Most of them, though, had drunk until they couldn’t drink anymore and sprawled on the table, the chairs, the floor, and in heaps on top of each other.
L’zar filled his tankard one more time from the dregs of the last metal keg on the table, whistling to himself. He took a drink and raised his eyebrows, then walked down the table toward his daughter. Someone snorted and rolled over when he nudged them out of the way with the toe of his shoe. “Come on. I
