Page 113 of Elven Lies

Rick spun around to face her with a smile. “What do you need, boss?”

“I haven’t heard anything from Blackmoon. Has anyone seen him?”

Rick’s smile faded, though he put on a good show of trying to call it back. “Actually, no. Not that I know of. I don’t think anyone’s seen him since the end of the battle that night. Pretty sure he’s M.I.A.”

Though she’d already expected that answer deep down, hearing it sent a heavy weight sinking in her gut. “If he shows up, please let me know.”

“Will do, boss. Anything else?”

“No, not for now, Rick. Thanks.”

The blackhorn slipped out of her office, closed the door behind him, and Rebecca was left alone in her private office on the second floor to mull over the heaps of information she’d received over the last forty hours.

She’d barely had time to put any serious thought to the detailed updates her council had been bringing her, but now that she’d asked about Rowan, her thoughts automatically turned to him and stuck.

He was gone. M.I.A. Disappeared from Shade, as far as anyone knew. Just like he’d disappeared after helping Rebecca and saving Maxwell’s life. She hadn’t had the chance to genuinely thank him for it or to ask what he’d meant with his final words to her.

“This whole time… I had it all wrong.”

Now he’d disappeared, and Rebecca didn’t know how she felt about it.

Besides, that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To get rid of Rowan that night, to remove him from the playing field by manufacturing a legitimate reason to kick him out of Shade, based not on her own feelings toward him but on his performance in the field.

It hadn’t gone exactly the way she’d planned, but the results are the same anyway. Shouldn’t she be relieved?

She thought she would have been. Now, though, after he’d helped her and after the way he’d disappeared, Rebecca worried more about what Rowan was up to at that moment, now that he’d decided on his own to finally leave her and Shade alone.

What was he doing out there now? Who had he hunted down for a new alliance? Who was he talking to? How many Shade secrets—or even Rebecca’s secrets—was Rowan spilling?

Clearly, he’d felt wronged by her enough to slip off into the night like that, but his response remained impossible to predict.

The possibilities were endless and unknown, and the thought of all the damage Rowan could do if he really set his mind to it made her sick to her stomach.

Then again, the Blackmoon Elf might have gone straight back to the Gateway and Xahar’áhsh, with his tail between his legs and to lick his proverbial wounds, after his own solo mission had clearly failed.If, of course, he’d been honest with her and had crossed into this world of his own choosing instead of the Bloodshadow Court sending him to find her.

Worst of all, when it came to Rowan, Rebecca couldn’t tell anymore what was real and what was an elaborate lie. Without discussing it with him, without being able to trust him, she would never truly know anyway. Maybe that was for the best.

A swift, no-nonsense knock on the door ripped her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” Rebecca called and straightened in her chair.

How weird it was to see the door opening on its own from the other side, without Maxwell there at his regular post beside the door to open it.

The door swung open all the way before bouncing gently off the adjacent wall. Then Zida took two quick, shuffling steps into the room before she stopped. “I was gonna ask if you’re busy, but from the looks of it right now, you must be bored out of your damn mind.”

Rebecca offered the healer a wry smile. “Then please tell me you’ve got something to save me from it.”

“Pretty sure I do.” The healer’s beady black eyes narrowed as her wrinkled lips puckered and she diligently watched Rebecca’s reaction. “He’s awake.”

By the Blood…

Rebecca tried to rise from her chair and almost fell out of it before she plopped back down to get a hold of herself. “When?”

“About ten minutes ago, give or take.” Zida shrugged. “I wanted to make sure it stuck before I said anything.”

“And?” she prompted, both terrified of and desperate for the answer. “How is he?”

“Well, he ain’t dead,” the healer said with a snort. “Thanks to you, I gather. Plus, he knows his own name, and he’s talking, so I’d say he’s pretty fucking a-okay.”

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