“Might as well have our own separate rooms.” Kicking off her black Vans, Cheyenne rolled onto the bed and sank into the pillows too. “I can’t believe we did this, Em.”
“I know. This whole day!” The fae cracked up. “And you! You’re a drow princess! What the hell is happening?”
The halfling closed her eyes and sank even deeper into the pillows until they formed puffy, embroidered walls around her head. “Right now, we’re lying on a giant bed in a medieval-looking bunker for techless magicals talking about my not-so-imminent rule as the next O’gúl Crown.” This time, saying the words aloud did make her shudder. “That’s not anything close to what I wanted.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to stop that psycho on the throne from making things worse everywhere and bringing her screwed-up war to Earth.”
“Yep.” Ember took a sharp breath and yawned, throwing her forearm over her eyes.
“So many things make sense now. I mean, I thought this was L’zar’s attempt to overthrow a ruler and take everything for himself, but it’s… Shit, I don’t even know. It is about me, and I walked right into the middle of it, thinking I could drop a coin in a fucking bowl, go back home, and call it good. Ugh.” Cheyenne snatched the closest pillow and pressed it onto her face. She waited in the muffled darkness for Ember to make a remark that would pull the halfling out of her own head, as usual. It didn’t come. “Em?”
Slowly pushing herself up, Cheyenne thumped the pillow down by her friend’s hand. Ember’s mouth popped open, and she let out a loud, rumbling snore.
“Right. Apparently, I’m the only one who cares so much about what’s happening that it’s keeping me awake. Or I’m the only one who didn’t get shitfaced.”
She had to crawl almost four feet toward the foot of the bed to grab the extra velvet blanket folded on top of the heavy quilt beneath them. She dragged it back with her and tossed half the blanket over Ember, then fell back into the mountain of pillows and closed her eyes.
I’m the next drow heir. So what? It won’t change a thing about me as long as I make the right choice, whatever the hell that is.
* * *
The next morning, Ember and Cheyenne woke to the sound of hurried footsteps, shouted commands, laughter, and the smell of food cooking. The halfling sat up in the huge bed, ran a hand through her mussed hair, and quickly changed into fresh clothes before gathering everything up again and slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
“Smells like breakfast, Em.”
“Right. And I realized we didn’t eat a single thing yesterday after breakfast.”
“Huh.” Pulling a hair tie from the pocket of her jacket, Cheyenne twisted her hair back into a loose bun and shrugged. “All the better to get wasted with, I guess.”
“Very funny. I will eat anything right now if it doesn’t run away.”
“You sure?” Cheyenne studied the closed door to their guest quarters as Ember quickly changed and collected her things too. “I told you about the last time I ate on this side, right?”
“Oh.” Ember straightened, her green backpack dangling from her fingers. “You mean that Jell-O shit with the eyes?”
“Yep. And that was the fancy food.”
The fae swallowed thickly and grimaced. “I take that back. I’ll eat anything that doesn’t watch me as I stick a fork into it. Wait, do they use forks here?”
“Kinda. Hey, did you see what L’zar did to get this door open last night?” Cheyenne pulled the activator out of her pocket and stuck it behind her ear, but the ensuing pinch and sync with her magic didn’t come. Of course not. We’re in a bunker of magic only, no tech. She dropped the silver coil back into her pocket and waved a hand over the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to open the damn door.” Cheyenne passed her hand over it again, then waved faster and finally dropped her hand on her thigh. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“Because you’re waving at a door.”
“You know, I could blast a hole in this thing right now, and we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”
“Relax, Princess.”
Cheyenne snorted and folded her arms. “Don’t ever call me that.”
“Just testing it out to see if it sticks. I know it won’t.” Ember stopped beside the halfling with a grin and passed her hand in front of the door. It lit up with blue lines and slid into the wall. “You might be L’zar’s daughter, but you couldn’t pass as a thief in any world.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sleight of hand, Cheyenne.” Ember looked down at her left hand, her wrist pressed against her thigh as her fingers moved in a quick spellcasting gesture while she waved her hand in front of the door again.
It started to slide closed, and the halfling leaped forward. “Okay, I get it. You guys master spells easily.” She grabbed the edge of the sliding door with both hands and shoved it back into the wall with an echoing boom. A shower of stone chips and dust rained down around the doorway, and Cheyenne turned to her friend. “We all have different skills.”
Laughing, Ember rolled her eyes and followed Cheyenne down the semi-dark tunnel toward the bunker’s main room.
When they stepped through the arch into the huge chamber, Cheyenne’s mouth popped open. “They’re all awake. Working.”
Ember adjusted the straps of her backpack and stared at the dozens of magicals bustling around the chamber, stacking crates, passing plates piled high with food, packing, and unpacking who-knew-what. “How great would it be if hangovers didn’t exist in this world?”
Cheyenne chuckled when her gaze fell on the keg at the end of the black table, much larger than any from the night before. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Em. Smells like straight-up grog this morning.”
“Oh.”
