Page 118 of Elven Lies

Since the day she’d fought Hector’s homunculi and poisoned herself. The day Maxwell had eliminated Hector as a threat, permanently. The day Rebecca had killed Aldous in self-defense.

So many things had happened that day, and it would be impossible to tell which of them, if any, had started this.

But now that he’d mentioned the specific day, yes, that was the day it had started for her too.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, had to pause to gather her racing thoughts into something resembling lucid speech, and tried again. “Can you feel…”

“Everything,” he finished for her, speaking more openly and without the usual walls or stony mask. There was no way he could have been making this up.

“I feel everything,” he repeated. “Where you are. When you look my way. Where you intend to go before you’ve even moved. Recently, I think I’ve started to feel…”

“Emotions,” Rebecca finished for him this time. “Reactions. Sometimes a thought but not in words. Just more of…”

“An image. And a feeling. Neither of which belong to me. Or, at least, they didn’t at first.”

This was incredible.

Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined sitting down with Maxwell Hannigan, alone, confessing to each other the details of what they’d each been going through separately, yet together this whole time.

She almost couldn’t believe this conversation was even happening. That he’d opened up to her like this, without hesitation, without leaving anything out. As if he’d given up trying to hide anything from her anymore.

As if he physicallycouldn’tanymore.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we don’t hate each other’s guts, right?” she asked through an uncertain laugh.

That same flicker of amusement pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his silver eyes flashed at her again. “I agree.”

Of course he agreed now.

If she’d known it would be this easy to get him on her side, she would have tried it a long time ago.

The thought almost made her laugh, but she managed to hold it back. “Any idea what this is?”

By the time the words were out, though, she already knew the answer.

“None whatsoever.” Then Maxwell dipped his gaze toward his hands in his lap, which both still held Rebecca’s between them.

It hardly registered that he still held onto her like this. Because now, Rebecca had, if not proof, then at least confirmation. Whatever this was between them—with them, because of them—it was real.

Somehow, it felt like a far easier and more meaningful mystery to solve than all the others surrounding her now.

“Whatever this is,” she said, “I’ll figure it out. Then we’ll know more.”

Maxwell looked up at her again, as if waking from a dream, and slowly tilted his head. “If you think it’ll make a difference…”

What wasthatsupposed to mean?

Of course it would make a difference. Knowledge always made a difference. That was the point of having it.

Now felt like the wrong time to try to explain it to him. He was still in recovery. Nearly everything was up in the air at this point—except, of course, whether she and Maxwell had been living the same experience around each other.

They had. She knew that much.

Better to leave it alone for now. There was such a thing as too many epiphanies in one day, and he’d barely been conscious for half an hour.

With a tight smile that had to look as tired as she felt, Rebecca gently pulled her fingers free of his grasp, ignoring the painful ache in her core brought on by that physical separation. She’d been ignoring that pain for days. There was no reason to stop now.

“I should let you rest,” she told him, sliding off the edge of his bed and back to her feet, which felt surprisingly sturdy and stable beneath her. “We can talk later.”

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