Cheyenne headed for the empty chair beside Maleshi, gauging the others’ reactions. Nobody else thinks it’s funny? Guess I’m the only asshole who laughs at a fae in a spider machine.
She slumped onto the thick cushion lining the heavy wooden chair and gazed around the table. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Maleshi muttered.
“Ah, yes.” Cazerel turned his orange gaze onto L’zar. “I still do not understand why you need our help, Weaver. She’s your kin.”
“She’s the worst part about me.” L’zar set his folded hands on the table and leaned toward the chief. “Why do you think I’ve spent so much time away from her?”
Cazerel stroked his chin, his long red claws rasping his gray flesh. “Indeed.”
“I know you lost all love for the drow when the last Cycle turned. K’laht did his part for you and Hirúl Breach in his time, did he not?”
“The Everbrite did more than his part.” Cazerel sat back in his chair. “He was and is our Crown.”
L’zar’s eyes widened. “Sounds like you hate my sister as much as I do.”
“I do not know the extent of your feelings, Cu’ón, but perhaps you are right.”
“One has to know their enemies as well as their friends to protect themselves from that enemy.” The drow spread his arms. “You’ve done well here in Hirúl Breach. I think you’ve also done well in drawing out as many dark truths about my sister as you possibly can. I need your help because I’m looking for the one thing that will make Cheyenne’s terms of secession impossible for the Crown to refuse. I’m looking for leverage.”
The chief’s orange eyes narrowed. “I find it hard to believe the Weaver thief does not already have leverage.”
“Oh, I have plenty, but it’s not enough. If you tell me what you have, we can compare notes.” L’zar grinned and sat back in his chair, feigning casual indifference despite how intently his golden eyes were fixed on the raug chief.
Cazerel studied the drow for a moment longer, then kept his gaze on L’zar as he turned his head toward one of the raug elders and muttered something in French. The elders shifted in their seats.
Cheyenne was acutely aware of the wary glances Maleshi and Corian exchanged across the table.
L’zar’s eyes widened. “What don’t I know?”
Cazerel growled and sat back in his chair, shifting his shoulders as if scratching an itch on his back. “Ba’rael Verdys has a child.”
Cheyenne held her breath. Holy shit.
L’zar broke into a predatory grin and leaned forward. “Where?”
Corian shifted uncomfortably. “L’zar.”
The drow cut him off with a raised hand without looking away from the chief. “Tell me.”
“Somewhere not even the Cu’ón thief would find him,” Cazerel replied evenly. “I expected you to know.”
“Clearly I did not.” L’zar set a slender slate-gray hand on the table and raised his eyebrows. “If you want to barter for this information, Cazerel, name your price. Whatever it is, you know I can and will pay it.”
“Yes.” The chief glanced at Ember and nodded. “I believe you paid in advance. It is no small thing to keep a healer at your side.”
“I’m sure she’s very good,” L’zar muttered dismissively. “So, if the price has been paid, tell me where he is.”
Corian hissed softly. “Don’t you think the bigger issue is why we didn’t know about him?”
“Not at all.”
“If Ba’rael hears so much as a whisper about us going after her son, she won’t wait for the rest of the fortnight, L’zar.” Corian gripped the edge of the table. “She’ll break as many of the old laws as she can to get to him before we do if she hasn’t already.”
“She has not.” Cazerel dipped his head toward Corian and folded his arms. “And she will not. The child was sent away from her at birth. He has spent the first four hundred years of his life hidden, and not even his mother knows where to find him. On her own orders.”
“Damn,” Cheyenne muttered. “And I thought I had it bad growing up.”
Ember snorted but immediately wiped off her smile when Corian shot each of them a warning look.
“The Olforím look after him now, or perhaps he looks after them. Either way, he is impossible to find.” Cazerel’s thick gray lips twitched into a grim smile. “But not for us.”
A low chuckle rose from L’zar’s grinning mouth. “That will work beautifully, Zokrí.”
“What? No.” Cheyenne slapped her hands on the stone table and raised halfway out of her chair. “You are not gonna use her kid as bait or leverage.”
L’zar turned slowly toward her and cocked his head. “I just want to talk to him, Cheyenne. I want to see this nephew of mine with my own eyes. A conversation won’t hurt anyone.”
“If he’s sitting down to talk to you, L’zar, yeah, it might.”
He chuckled and waved her off before turning back to the chief. “Will you take us to him?”
“L’zar, I’m serious,” Cheyenne spat.
“Hush.”
“Don’t,” she began, then Maleshi’s hand clenched painfully around her wrist. The nightstalker woman nodded at Cheyenne’s chair. The halfling seethed with contained anger, but she forced herself back into her seat.
Cazerel’s tight smile widened. “If a new Cycle is to turn, I would say it’s our duty to take you.”
“Yes. We all have our own duties to perform, don’t we?”
The chief stood, his chair scooting noisily across the floor. “Tomorrow, we will fulfill it.”
The raug elders stood, quickly followed by L’zar and the rest of his party. “Thank you.” He thumped a fist against his chest and nodded. “I look forward to it.”
“I’m sure you do. You’re welcome to stay in our city tonight.” Cazerel walked swiftly around the table and stopped beside Ember. “If you think of anything else you need from us, Healer, my clansmen will provide it for you.”
Ember stared up at him from her seat in the crawler. “Thanks.”
He grinned at her, nodded brusquely, then pulled open the door and left, followed by the three raug elders, who didn’t say a word.
When the door closed
