A low chuckle came from the bed, and it quickly grew to a roar of laughter that made her want to cover her ears. The raug’s hands shot into the air and he flipped them over and over again, staring at the scarred flesh free of black streaks. “Hishmál. Would you look at that?”
He bolted upright in the bed and swung his legs over the side, grinning at the space five and a half feet above the ground where he expected Ember to be. Then he looked down at the fae on the floor and cocked his head. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, you know. Just the usual.”
“Let me see your hands.”
Ember pursed her lips. “I didn’t take your sickness if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Fae don’t sit around on the floor, girl. Show me your hands.”
Rolling her eyes, Ember lifted both hands and turned them back and forth as he had. “See? No black streaks. No blight. I’m just regular old me.”
“Ha!” The raug leaped to his feet and smacked his bare chest, now gray again. “We both underestimated you. Vingat! De’garu!”
The heavy wooden door burst open on the other side of the room, and the two raug guards thundered in. They stopped short when they saw the healed raug standing over the fae girl on the floor. “What is this?”
“This is your chief returned!” The raug pounded his chest again and spread his arms. “It’s done.”
The guards grinned at him and thumped fists on their chests in response. “It worked.”
“What’s this?” Foltr came into the room, his cane clacking across the floor. “What’s all this now?” The same surprise and confusion flashed behind his widening eyes when he saw the raug and Ember, and he nodded. “Yes. Well done, girl.”
“Just doing my fae thing, I guess.” Ember patted the floor beside her. “Lost my mobility, though.”
The healed raug laughed and stomped toward her. “We will fix that for you, Healer.”
“I’m not really a healer. Wait, what are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He bent down with a snort and scooped her up in his arms.
She tried to push him away. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to pick me up.”
“Ha! No fae enjoys the floor, and you most certainly do not deserve it. De’garu, find a crawler for this one.”
One of the guards nodded and left the room.
“A crawler?” Ember stared at the raug’s huge face right next to hers as he cradled her like a child in his bare arms.
“But you won’t be doing the crawling.” He chuckled. “What’s your name, girl?”
She laughed and shook her head. This is absurd. “Ember.”
“Ember. I am Cazerel. Welcome to my home.”
“You were talking about yourself when you mentioned a chief, weren’t you?”
“Ha. I thought I wouldn’t be soon enough. Everything we have here is yours, Healer. You’ve done us a great service. Me, specifically.”
“I figured I could help.” Ember shot Foltr a nervous smile, and the old raug chuckled. “I don’t need everything you have. Just the crawler, I guess.”
Cazerel roared with laughter, bouncing her up and down. Ember tried to keep her arms from rubbing his rough gray skin but ended up laughing too. Weirdest thing I’ve ever done. Cheyenne’s gonna lose it when I tell her about this one.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cheyenne folded her arms and watched the half-dozen raugs standing between L’zar’s traveling band of rebels and the outer gates of Hirúl Breach. “Huh. Call me crazy, but this doesn’t feel like a very friendly greeting.”
The raugs prowled in the front of the massive gates, glowing eyes in various shades of orange narrowed as they scrutinized the newcomers. Most of them glared at General Hi’et, but some of their gazes turned toward Cheyenne and L’zar too.
“They’re not doing anything,” Corian muttered and glanced at L’zar, who was still sitting on the ground beside him. “And neither are we.”
The drow chuckled. “I didn’t say a thing.”
Corian looked back at the agitated raugs. “You didn’t have to.”
Behind them, Maleshi had taken up pacing in jerking steps, occasionally stopping for five to ten seconds before she couldn’t help but look at the raugs again. Then she’d walk three or four feet, pause, and do it all over again.
The next time she passed Corian, he reached out to touch her forearm without turning away from the raugs. “You need to stop doing that.”
Maleshi glared at his hand on her arm and brushed it off before continuing in her halting, irritated march. “Sure. You try being the target of all this hatred and standing still. Look at you, a perfect nightstalker statue, all proper and composed.”
“Maleshi.”
“I’m trying,” she hissed, lunging toward him from behind to snarl in his ear. “You have no idea what this is like for me. I’m doing the best I can.”
“It’s not ingrained in you to kill them, and it’s not ingrained in you to lose control of yourself when things get dicey.”
Maleshi scoffed. “It is when I’m the one to blame for all of it.”
Cheyenne caught the general’s gaze and grinned. “I know exactly how you feel right now.”
That caught the nightstalker woman off-guard, and she stopped to stare at Cheyenne. “Yeah, I guess you do.” She picked up her pacing again.
One raug growled something in French, and Maleshi spun toward him and hissed.
“Okay, what was that?”
The general glanced briefly at Cheyenne and rolled her eyes. “More jokes about cats. Without claws.”
Then the raugs switched to English and started pounding their chests. “The Hand of the Night and Circle couldn’t push us all out, could she?”
“We stayed true, nightstalker!”
“Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone, Hi’et. Our memories are long.”
The raugs chuckled and snarled, stalking in front of the gates with their shoulders hunched and their hands outstretched to
