Page 50 of Elven Throne

Pursing his lips, the man finally pulled his gaze away from the shifter all but rolling over and exposing his belly in submission, then finally scanned the front of his property and all the weary, desperate, misplaced magicals standing on his lawn. Refugees from the heart of Chicago.

He didn’t look surprised to see them there, but he did take in the sight as if only now realizing they were there.

“You getone,” he grumbled. “And the shadow can rest. Forone.Go on and bring ’em round back.”

He nodded toward the side of the house, then—without looking at Maxwell again or even offering Rebecca so much as a single glance—withdrew and swung the door shut in their faces.

It didn’t carry the slam of finality or even of the homeowner’s anger, but it still felt like fate had been sealed with the closing of that door.

Shade’s fate. Or maybe just Maxwell’s.

Heaving a massive sigh of relief and simultaneous defeat, Maxwell hung his head, his chin nearly touching his chest, and ran a hand through his hair. All the tension seeped out of him in one giant rush, the absence of which seemed to cause the slight tremble in his hand when he lowered it from his hair and back down to his side.

The same tremble coursed through his body from head to toe, barely visible.

But Rebecca was right here, standing so close, she saw every microscopic twitch of loosening muscle, all that contained pressure and bottled emotion finally released.

It lasted only a brief moment before the shifter pulled himself back together and fully straightened his spine.

Finally released from his confusing submission, he lifted his gaze to stare directly ahead at the closed door in front of him.

The ensuing awkward silence made Rebecca want to scream. Instead, she waited for someone to say something. Maxwell or Bor, or maybe even one of their operatives out on the lawn.

When that didn’t happen, her curiosity and impatience and growing concern for Maxwell’s current state urged her to break the silence herself. For all of them.

“I havenoidea what just happened,” she muttered.

His boots whispered across the porch’s wooden planks lightly dusted with bits of dirt and prematurely fallen leaves as he turned slightly toward her. Finally, he was once more capable of looking her in the eye. “More than I had hoped for.”

It wasn’t an explanation, but at least it was a good sign.

She hoped.

“Wellthat’sgood,” she said. “No more death sentence, then, right?”

“Not yet. A lot can happen in a week.”

And there went the optimism she’d tried to grab, blowing right off the front porch and dissipating in the bright sunshine stretching across cornfields and pastures all around them.

What remained, however, was probably more important.

Shade had found a place to stay. The older man, who’d looked so strikingly like Maxwell, had invited them to the back of the house. For all intents and purposes, it sounded like good news.

Rebecca would have believed good news had finally reached them if it weren’t for the hesitation, wary submission, and still so much shame churning inside the shifter beside her.

Looking morose and defeated and like all hope was still lost, Maxwell nodded toward the porch steps, then settled a hand on the small of Rebecca’s back to guide her off the porch.

As if staying here any longer to talk this out together might cause the earth to crack open beneath their feet before an endless chasm swallowed them up for eternity.

Even with the thrilling jolt of electrifying intensity racing up her spine at the warmth of his hand burrowing through Titus’s borrowed jacket to light up her body, she let him lead her off the porch anyway.

Nor did she protest when he urged her with a more solid nudge to pick up the pace once they reached the first step.

She still had no idea what was happening or exactly what the agreement he’d just made with the homeowner truly entailed, but she couldn’t ignore the urgency in Maxwell’s movements. Nor did she miss the overwhelming need behind his dully glowing silver eyes when he stopped at the base of the stairs, removed his hand from her lower back, and swept his gaze across the task force waiting for the verdict.

Would they be accepted here, or would they be forced to dejectedly move on and look for shelter and rest elsewhere?

Maxwell’s grimly set jaw and subdued nod didn’t exactly make the answer clear to anyone.

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