The Drow Grew Stronger (Goth Drow Book 4)

city and the heart of Ambar’ogúl, preparing for the new Cycle.”
Cheyenne gazed at the crackling flashes across the otherwise dark surface. The activator’s staying in my pocket for now. I don’t think I could handle reading a bunch of crap about myself, if that’s even included.
The metallic banging coming from the drow inner city behind them faded, replaced by a growing ruckus from up ahead. Cheers, shouts, bawdy laughter, and much more chaotic pounding in sporadic bursts came from whatever circular level they were about to enter at the end of the slightly declining tunnel. “Why do they do that?”
“I know you understand what a celebration is, despite the fact that I haven’t yet seen you participate in one.”
She gave her father a deadpan stare, and he shrugged before turning away from her. “I’m talking about all that banging. They did it at Rez 38 and then in Peridosh. You did it the day I came to talk to you about—”
“The traitor in the FRoE, yes.” L’zar’s head bobbed from side to side as strange, ululating O’gúleesh music filtered through the tunnel toward them. “It’s a sign of immense respect, Cheyenne. They’re paying tribute.”
“To me?”
“Unless they’re staring at someone else while they’re doing it, yes.”
She frowned at the bright end of the tunnel quickly approaching. I guess all the Earthside O’gúleesh won’t have much of a problem with me ruling over there. If I even do. Seems like they already approve.
When they stepped out of the tunnel and into the dazzling light reflecting off every bright, shining surface, Cheyenne recognized Upper Tech. It wasn’t the same courtyard she’d visited with Persh’al, but it was definitely the same district. And the people here were unhinged.
Magicals of every race danced in the glistening streets, their fine jewelry and expensive clothing whirling around them in bright flashes and ridiculous patterns. An incredibly tall, thin woman with skin the lightest shade of pale blue and four arms twirled between high-flying leaps, slamming her hand against a metal bench every time her bare, hand-shaped feet touched the ground. An orc with a high, stiff collar on his black dinner jacket and five gold rings inlaid in each tusk swung his head from side to side, kicking the metal walls of a building in rhythm to the strange music.
Expensive scarves and capes swirled in a kaleidoscope of shimmering patterns as the once entirely proper denizens of Upper Tech danced and whooped and roared in victory.
Cheyenne straightened, glancing back and forth across the square at the maddened celebration. “This place was a lot different the last time I was here.”
Ember backed away from a goblin who lunged toward her, his tongue hanging out of his open, grinning mouth as he shook his head wildly and snatched the odd-shaped top hat that was split down the middle off his head. The fae girl widened her eyes as he cackled and whirled away again, throwing his weird hat into the air, not caring where it landed as he danced across the square. “What was it like last time?”
“Like everyone had a stick up their ass.”
Ember chuckled wryly. “Maybe the sticks finally made it up to their brains.”
“That does sound like an accurate assessment.”
“L’zar!” A skaxen man wearing a sparkling green bodysuit limped toward them, spreading his arms in greeting. “Took you long enough, eh? We all thought you’d been rotting in the ground for the last two hundred years.”
L’zar gave the skaxen a tight-lipped smile as they passed. “That’s hardly long enough to cause concern.”
The skaxen did a little jig in his delight, his bad leg making him look like he was trying to skip on one leg as he shook his clawed orange fists in the air and kept dancing.
Cheyenne forced herself to look away and caught up with L’zar. “Who was that?”
He looked slightly over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at the dancing magicals. “I have no idea.”
Ember floated beside them, unable to decide between frowning at the strange celebration or laughing at it. “You know, after everything I’ve heard about the shitty direction things have taken over here, I honestly expected this place to look a lot worse. Is the whole city like this?”
L’zar barked a laugh. Cheyenne ignored him and shook her head. “No, Em. Upper Tech’s like Windsor Farms, with slightly more sticks up asses.”
“Okay.” Bobbing her head, Ember gazed around and blinked against the glare reflecting off the glittering white metallic surfaces everywhere. “So, this is the fancy level without drow.”
“Pretty much.”
L’zar turned toward another tunnel leading out of Upper Tech and paused when a fae man with violet skin and dark-blue hair falling over his shoulders floated into their path. Ember took a sharp breath and stared at the first of her kind she’d seen in this world, but she quickly covered her surprise.
“You shouldn’t have returned.” The fae man’s expressionless face and his calm, even tone were totally at odds with the celebratory air spilling through Upper Tech, and his shimmering violet eyes were cold. “Nothing good will come of this.”
The prodigal drow pointed at the fae and squinted. “I’m trying to place your name.”
“The last thing I’m giving you is my name, thief.”
“If we’re throwing names around, I prefer ‘Weaver’ while I’m here.” L’zar spread his arms and offered the fae man a flashing grin. “Cu’ón does fairly well too.”
The fae man pointed across the square in no particular direction but away from the tunnel he currently blocked.
L’zar chuckled. “Come now, that’s not very celebratory. If not for me, you can at least step aside for the Aranél, can’t you?”
The only reply he received was a slow blink from the fae’s luminous eyes and a highly judgmental glance up and down.
The drow thief winked at the fae, then stepped aside and gestured for his daughter to enter the tunnel. “Cheyenne.”
She studied the fae man, who only gave her a brief and dismissive glance, then looked at the rest of the dancing square again. I’m not about to start fighting