Page 59 of Elven Shadow

So for the rest of the day, she milled around the compound, unable to release the energy she desperately needed to release, avoiding Maxwell whenever possible, and waiting for the moment when it would be hardest for him to make her the target of his incessantly creepy vigil.

That moment eventually presented itself at dinner.

With Aldous apparently taking a break from commanding obnoxiously arbitrary missions at the last second and breaking up Shade’s ranks for pointless objectives, the compound’s common room was exceptionally crowded tonight once Bor rang the bell for dinner chow.

Rebecca forced herself to wait until she was almost certain every single Shade member had made an appearance in the common room. At that point, there were already too many of them to count.

Which also made maintaining a constant visual on any one specific person damn near impossible.

She’d been counting on it.

As per his newfound MO with Rebecca today, Maxwell had already found her in—or followed her to—the common room just before Bor rang that bell.

She felt his eyes on her even before the first wave of off-duty operatives entered from multiple hallways feeding into the beating heart of Shade’s headquarters building.

Forcing herself not to make eye contact with one extremely suspicious and overbearing shifter intent on rooting out her secrets was particularly difficult. Especially when she’d felt his gaze on her at almost every second since the library meeting and now had to fight back the urge to poke those silver-glowing eyes out of his head.

Add that to the pressure of maintaining her composure when all she really wanted was to rip something to shreds with her darkest magic before obliterating it out of existence—all so she could clear her mind enough to think properly again—and Rebecca was walking on eggshells in a way she hadn’t needed to in decades.

Around herself.

Still, she had to wait for the perfect moment, the ultimate cover—just enough chaos within an everyday occurrence in the common room that the normal and the mundane became an unexpected bit of concealment to make her escape.

If Maxwell saw her leave, he would no doubt follow her wherever Rebecca’s pent-up energy led her.

If he followed her, he would undoubtedly see exactly what she’d been hiding for so long—from him, from her enemies, from her alleged allies, from her past. Sometimes even from herself.

At this point, with insurrection brewing from the ground up and so many magicals on edge as they maneuvered through whatever plans had been forged for dealing with Aldous, Rebecca couldn’t afford any more of her secrets or her anonymity to be snatched away from her.

She had to blend into the crowd. Become invisible. Make herself practically nonexistent until she got the hell out and finally found enough space to do the one thing she’d been born and bred and conditioned to do.

Until she could beherself.

And if she didn’t get out now, Rebecca’s true self would end up revealing itself all on its own, beyond her control, and everything would change.

No one in Shade could afford that kind of change. Not before she’d apparently been selected as “the perfect elf” for Leonard and Diego’s secret plan, and certainly not after.

The growing crowd quickly filled in the available space. The deafening clash of countless conversations echoed through the room. The commotion of bodies bustled back and forth as plates and trays and silverware clashed in the kitchen.

With all that happening, no one else noticed the elf making her way toward the hallway leading straight back to the private living quarters at the other end of the compound.

No one but Maxwell, of course.

Dammit, could the guy just not take a hint?

Rebecca watched him from the corner of her eye as she pretended to pay attention to some nonsensical argument taking place in front of her. If he wasstillthis diligent about watching her, getting out from under his constant scrutiny might be harder than she’d anticipated.

Then the opportunity she’d been waiting for finally arrived.

An enormous roar of surprise and approval erupted from the entire gathering when a new hulking shape emerged from the hallway she’d chosen.

Cheers and whistles filled the common room with a deafening strength, and all heads turned to see Titus ducking beneath the archway, finally making a Zida-approved entrance for the last meal of the day.

The vuulbor’s head was still wrapped in bandages, as were several patches of his bare back, chest, and arms. Presumably from his electrifying contact with their enemy target’s protection wards last night.

Though the majority of his wounds were covered by those bandages, Zida had done nothing to hide the darker streaks of slate-gray scarring zigzagging across Titus’s already stone-colored flesh.

Burn marks, most likely.

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