A drow woman with white hair falling past her hips, wearing a gauzy dress so low-cut it might as well have been a halfway-open robe, grinned at Cheyenne. The feral hunger in the drow woman’s gaze made the halfling look quickly away. Apparently, L’zar’s not the only one who’s mastered that look.
The drow in the low-cut dress slammed the heel of her fist against the closest wall with a metallic clang. One by one, the other drow took up the weird greeting, wordlessly striking dark fists or open hands on the metal walls, doors, and doorframes. It wasn’t nearly as unruly and chaotic as the other times O’gúleesh had gone full-creepy on Cheyenne by banging on metal. The magicals here struck over and over in a slow rhythm as they grinned at the two drow and the fae crossing the square to make their way to the outer rings of the capital.
L’zar threw his head back and laughed. Then he stepped sideways away from Cheyenne and spread his arms again, gesturing toward her like a crier clearing the streets in front of some medieval lord. “The Aranél returns!”
The other drow took up the cry.
“Honor, Aranél!”
“She is seen!”
“Mór úcare!”
Cheyenne frowned when she heard the last one. “Why are they calling me that?”
“That’s what you are.” L’zar grinned. “Cheyenne, the Weaver’s daughter. Dark child returned. Princess of Ambar’ogúl!” The drow spread his arms and pranced across the square, turning in a slow circle as he moved and laughing back at all the drow who’d come to see them both.
Ember grimaced. “He’s much crazier than I thought.”
“Tell me about it.” Cheyenne frowned at her father and snorted when he delivered bow after exaggerated, moronic bow to the drow in every direction. “The loyalists called me that. Mór úcare.”
“I’m guessing that’s the ‘dark child returned’ part.”
The halfling scrunched her nose and watched her drow father’s crazed antics as they reached the other side of the square. “And Aranél is ‘princess.’ They keep throwing these words around in front of me, and I’m too dense to pick up on any of it.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Ember rolled her eyes. “You should’ve spent more time learning the language so you could’ve picked up on all the secret messages. I bet there’s a whole section on O’gúl history at the library.”
Cheyenne gently elbowed her friend in the side and kept walking.
The fae girl squinted in thought and glanced slowly around the square. “And I’m just noticing for the first time how weird it is that everybody here speaks English with random O’gúleesh tossed in.”
“Huh.” Cheyenne blinked at the realization. “Guess we’ll have to ask about that one.”
When they reached another wide archway of dark, shimmering metal on the other side of the square, L’zar spun again to face the gathered drow. They still pounded in unison. The slow, steady rhythm vibrated through the ground and the air, and Cheyenne clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from feeling like they were rattling around in her head.
“Brothers! Sisters!” L’zar spread his arms, his golden eyes wide and glowing with a sharper light than usual. “A new Cycle turns in fourteen days. Be ready for the end. I know I am.”
A collective, wordless shout rose from the other drow, and L’zar took a deep breath as he grinned at his people paying tribute to him right outside the Crown’s lair. Both hands shot up to his head as his long, slender fingers smoothed the hair away from the sides of his face and his forehead. Then he spun smartly again and raised his eyebrows at Cheyenne, gesturing toward the arch. “This is the beginning, Cheyenne. There’s so much more than what you’ve seen.”
Cheyenne glanced at the dozens of drow keeping up the pounding rhythm on the metal walls. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“Not in the slightest.” L’zar leaned farther toward the dark archway and waited for Cheyenne and Ember to pass through ahead of him. “I’d be quite disappointed if you were.”
Chapter Two
The passage leading through the wall around the Crown’s inner city containing nothing but drow subjects was so long, Cheyenne couldn’t see the other end of it. The noise coming from both ends of the dark tunnel was quietest at the very center, though she was more focused on the erratic flashes of yellow and blue light streaking through patterned grooves in the tunnel’s walls and ceiling. “What’s that?”
L’zar gazed at the blips. “No activator to answer that question for you?”
“I don’t need it for everything. Unless you have no idea, and I should write you off as clueless.”
The drow laughed and ran a hand along the grooved wall. “You’re still in a touchy mood, I see.”
“I just found out I’m the O’gúl Crown’s niece and that I have to come back here in two weeks to order her off the throne of a world she’s been poisoning for who knows how long.” Cheyenne cocked her head and shoved both hands into her jacket pockets. “’Touchy’ isa bit of an understatement.”
“Let it go for now.” His voice was surprisingly soft when he said it, and she almost turned to look at him in surprise. Then he chuckled and slapped a hand on the wall, which resulted in a cracking echo up and down the tunnel. “You’ve earned your right to feel however the hell you want, Cheyenne, but moping about it is a waste of everyone’s time. I’m not a fan.”
“Sure, let me just change my moods to suit you.”
L’zar gave her a small, amused smile and pointed at the flashing lights along the ceiling. “And that, by the way, is the city code rewriting itself.”
“Wait, what?”
He nodded once and clasped his hands behind his back. “All part of the interim hold on magic if you will. The Crown’s preparing in whatever way she can for your next meeting in two weeks. So are all her marvelously expendable subjects. Her words, once upon a time. And this is Hangivol, the most technologically advanced
