Page 1 of Elven Crown

1

“We need to talk.”

Rebecca Bloodshadow stared at the russet-haired elf sitting on the edge of the folding banquet table inside one of Shade’s holding rooms, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what she could and should say in response.

No shit, they had to talk.

She couldn’t agree with him more, but she couldn’t let anyone else know that right now.

Maxwell Hannigan stood just behind her with his arms folded as he scowled at their elven intruder. The blackhorn Rick, the security team’s second in command, hovered behind Maxwell, his eyes wide. A dozen other Shade operatives still lay scattered across the floor of the holding room after their silent intruder had incapacitated them all at once and in record time.

As far as everyone else in this holding room was concerned, this was their first encounter.

No one could know anything existed between Rebecca and this elf sitting on the table and grinning like a lunatic.

Because Rowan Blackmoon should never have been able to find Rebecca at all. Definitely not here inside Shade’s well-protected headquarters compound in Chicago.

It felt like forever that they just stared at each other, her and Rowan, while Rebecca’s insides battled against each other between relief, bubbling anger, and solidifying, all-encompassing dread.

So far, their captured intruder making a joke of all Shade’s security measures had revealed only that he wanted to speak to “the elf” and nothing more.

If Rebecca let him talk about anything of substance for any amount of time, she would be right back under Maxwell’s scrutiny first and foremost.

As Shade’s new leader, Rebecca couldn’t afford that.

She couldn’t afford it as Rebecca Bloodshadow, either.

Rowan knew far too much, including where to find her, and that was information she certainly hadn’t given him herself.

She took another step toward him, ignoring the constant groans and grunts and coughs of the laid-out operatives Rowan had dispatched without breaking a sweat, all by himself, and held his gaze as she spread her arms. “So talk.”

She would give him one chance to open his mouth, and if what came out included anything she didn’t like, she would shut him down immediately.

Anything he might say could give her away at any second—could ruin everything here for her and reveal all her fervently kept secrets. All without Rowan ever even knowing how much of her safety and identity he risked just by being here.

Knowing Rowan, though, even if hedidknow which secrets she was hiding and why, he’d probably blow them all open anyway just for fun.

The elf man tilted his head, his beautiful, dangerous grin still fixed on her, and laughed again.

The sound of it filled Rebecca with an unexpected nostalgia and a simultaneous shiver of expectation skittering along her spine.

“Well,” he began, “Iwashoping for something a little more comfortable, but if this is the best you can offer…”

A low, menacing growl interceded before Maxwell stepped up to stand at Rebecca’s side, his silver eyes flashing with ominous warning—the expression he wore almost constantly but especially when he didn’t trust someone.

Lately, he’d aimed his warnings exclusively at Rebecca. The fact that she was no longer the target of his suspicion made the heavy knot in her gut tighten even further.

“You intruded on private property,” Maxwell snarled. “You’re trespassing. You’ve incapacitated a dozen of our operatives, and you want a moreprivateconversation? You’re out of your element, elf.”

Rowan’s hazel eyes barely flickered in Maxwell’s direction, the intensity of his grin fading briefly before it reappeared with full force. “Out of my element, huh? You think? And here I was, assuming I’d get a private meeting withher.”

He gestured toward Rebecca, and a sudden urge to throw herself at him, wrap her hands around his neck, and throttle the Blackmoon scion for interfering in her personal affairs—again—almost took control.

She forced herself beneath a mask of calm and composure. For the first time, she was grateful for Maxwell’s habit of cutting into her conversations that had nothing to do with him.

“You’ll address the Roth-Da’al with the proper respect, elf,” the shifter snarled. “And you’ll have your private audience only once I’ve gotten everything out of you first. Rick, bring me the Needle.”

“Sir.” Rick nodded, but whether he left to retrieve said interrogation tool or stood there waiting for more, Rebecca had no idea.

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