19

M axwell delivered that single word like he’d already put those puzzle pieces together. Like nothing would surprise him at this point.

Fair enough.

It still didn’t make this part any easier for Rebecca.

The Bloodshadow Heir was destruction, in more ways than one. And how was she supposed to tell him that without making it sound heinous in every way imaginable?

No turning back now.

“Destruction,” she echoed with a sigh. “Yeah. In so many different ways. I’m not the only one, either, historically speaking. But what I can do? It hasn’t been around for so long, the Bloodshadow Heir’s been little more than a legend for…generations. Something that existed among my people thousands of years ago, before the abilities died out.

“No one knows why, but one elven Mystic foresaw the Bloodshadow Heir’s eventual return. Of course, no one ever prophesies exact dates and times…”

“But it is you.” Maxwell slowed, still gazing straight ahead with his hands clasped behind his back. Then he looked right at her. “Is it not?”

She almost laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely me. No arguing my way out of that one.”

Rebecca spread her arms wide before letting them slap back down against her sides. “Legend made real, I guess. Or whatever the fuck that means. For me, it means I was raised as the Bloodshadow Heir from the second others saw what I could do. I was trained. Molded into this…shape of prophecy. Everything I did and everything I was revolved around fulfilling it.”

Maxwell’s low growl was barely audible over the rushing river and droning cicadas and Rebecca’s own footsteps across the wild underbrush. But she could have sworn she felt it rumbling in her chest all the same.

“This is the prophecy you wish to find,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She’d known her Head of Security was particularly sharp. He’d proven it time and again. But hearing him put these pieces together out loud, pieces of her life and her past, made Maxwell’s cleverness somehow surprising.

Or maybe it was just because she’d never expected to have this conversation with anyone. Ever.

“It’s not just the Bloodshadow Council who wants me under their thumb. Or, I guess more specifically, what I can do. Agn’a Tha’ros has a long list of enemies. Normal for any empire.

“My people aren’t the only ones who know about that prophecy, either. Any talk of an almost unstoppable weapon catches everyone’s ear eventually, even when people go through a lot of effort to try to keep that fire from spreading. It always does anyway. Gives existing enemies new ideas. Creates enemies where none might have been before.

“Which means the Council aren’t the only ones looking for me, and they aren’t the only ones who will try to stake a claim and put me in my place so they can use the Bloodshadow Heir for their own aims. The greatest weapon anyone’s seen since…far beyond living memory.”

Nodding, Maxwell let out a low hum of agreement. “And any powerful weapon in the wrong hands…”

“Yeah, well, with this weapon, any hands that aren’t mine are the wrong hands. Doesn’t matter how hard I’ve tried to argue that point. Doesn’t keep people from trying, either.”

“Like Blackmoon?”

Rebecca sucked in a breath through her teeth, then hoped he hadn’t noticed, though she couldn’t imagine how he wouldn’t. Rowan was bound to come up in this little chat sooner or later. She’d expected it, though not so soon and probably not because Maxwell had so blatantly asked, but here they were.

“He’s one of them, yeah,” she replied.

It hurt so much more than she’d thought it would to admit out loud to them both that Rowan had come after her only because she was the Bloodshadow Heir and because he’d requested an assignment from the Council himself.

If he’d cared about her, wouldn’t he have tried to find her on his own a lot sooner? He’d had plenty of time for it. Centuries, in fact.

Gritting her teeth, Rebecca pushed herself past the discomfort of talking about Rowan; while he was involved on multiple levels, this wasn’t about him. Not entirely.

“Though I wouldn’t go so far as to say he wants the Bloodshadow Heir’s power for himself,” she added. “He has…different goals. He’s just going about reaching them the wrong way. I think he really does believe hauling me back to Agn’a Tha’ros will help him achieve those goals. Who knows? Maybe he even really still believes it’s the only way to save our people. I really don’t know anymore.”

A bitter laugh burst out of her. “Pretty ironic, though. I’d managed to stay under the radar for so long, trying to stay out of everyone else’s hands, and the whole time I’ve been in this world, no one who was looking for me had any idea where I actually was. No one knew I was here. Until Rowan— Blackmoon .”

The mistake of referring to him by his first name—out loud, at least—made her guts twist on themselves. It was just too much familiarity, too many positive things about the Blackmoon Elf she’d associated with his first name.

That little slip of the tongue only reminded her of how deeply Rowan’s betrayal had cut her and how painful it still was, no matter how often she reminded herself he was no longer the same Rowan Blackmoon of her childhood. The same Rowan Blackmoon she’d left behind, in Agn’a Tha’ros without a word, because she’d thought it was better for him that way.

And for her.

Surprisingly, though, she didn’t feel any new surge of anger pulsing from the shifter beside her. No flash of brighter silver in his eyes or warning rumble in his throat.

He had to have noticed. He noticed everything, but he didn’t react.

In fact, he took in all this new information with an almost eerie neutrality, as if they were discussing someone else and not Rebecca.

To him, maybe they were. The Bloodshadow Heir was not the Rebecca he knew, even if they shared the same body.

And the same haunting past.

When he said nothing, not even asking for clarification, Rebecca continued.

“None of the Bloodshadow Court’s enemies had any idea where I was, or whether I was even still alive. That attack on the dome under the bridge? That was ordered by a powerful enemy of Agn’a Tha’ros. A conglomerate of warlords, more or less, all operating under the same banner. The Azyyt Ra’al. They knew Blackmoon was in Chicago.

“I’m sure it wasn’t hard to discover. He made it only too easy for them. Keeping a low profile has never been one of his strong suits.”

Maxwell snorted, but that was it.

“Getting rid of him, the Scion of the Blackmoon Clan, without the power of Agn’a Tha’ros to back him in this world?” she mused. “That would have been a powerful blow against our people. The only reason they didn’t succeed was because I just so happened to be there too.

“And now, everything’s just gotten a thousand times more dangerous. For me. For Shade. For everyone who has anything to do with me. The Azyyt Ra’al knows where I am now. That nurúzhe who escaped? He’s told his masters everything. They’ll be looking for me soon, if they aren’t already. And they’re the furthest possible thing from Eduardo, or Big Boss, or even Harkennr. Honestly, those guys are toddlers playing a sandbox in comparison.

“This world is laughably unequipped to deal with an old-world force like that. Hell, Xahar’áhsh is hardly equipped for it, either.”

Then she stopped, some long-buried resistance rising inside her after she’d said so much. After she’d opened windows into things she had always known but had never dreamed of telling anyone. For their own protection.

Even before she’d told Maxwell, he’d already had enough working information about her to endanger him, whether or not he was aware of it. But now?

Now he had more knowledge of her than any other Earthside being who hadn’t already known her—or known of her—and that made this particularly dangerous.

And after she’d said so much, after she’d opened herself up to tell even one person the truth—to tell Maxwell, the way their connection and that other presence always there between them seemed to crave so forcefully—she couldn’t tell how she felt about it.

Relieved to finally get it all out? Regret that she’d gone too far and said too much? Fear that, with a newfound understanding of her personal burdens and the massive weight they carried, Maxwell would decide she wasn’t worth it? That he might wish they could put this all right back into the Pandora’s box she’d opened and never speak of it again?

However she felt about it, it was done. And it didn’t change what Rebecca still had to do.

She stopped and turned on the thick pile of leaves beneath her bare feet to face him. “That’s why finding the Bloodshadow prophecy isn’t just an excuse to get away. To shirk responsibility or to…I don’t know. Distract myself from everything I never wanted to follow me here. It’s not something I can just put off for later, either. Not anymore.

“I have to find it. I have to see it with my own eyes and translate it for myself. Understand the words in their original form. Hopefully, there’s been enough word-of-mouth mistranslation over the last several thousand years to have left plenty of room for a loophole.

“It’s a long shot, I know. But it’s all I have. If I can prove that prophecy either has nothing to do with me or doesn’t demand that I go back to Agn’a Tha’ros to keep an entire elven empire from being ripped to pieces… Well, then all this ends.

“Maybe not right away. Maybe not for the empire, or my people, or the Azyyt Ra’al. That’s not my problem. But if there’s even a chance that what it really says, what the Mystic really foretold, isn’t what everyone believes it is, all this will end for me . I’ll be free of it. And then I can finally do something about leading everyone around me into danger and death, no matter what I do.

“Most importantly, I’ll know I’m doing the right thing when I refuse to go back to Xahar’áhsh. When I refuse to be the thing my people are so desperate to believe I truly am.”

Maxwell’s brow furrowed as he studied her face and he tilted his head. “And you need the original prophecy for that?”

“I know,” she breathed, puffing out a sigh. “It sounds stupid as shit. But this stuff is…old-world magic. Prophecies in Xahar’áhsh are entirely different than what you’d normally find here. They hold their own kind of power beyond the power given to them by those who think they know their meaning.”

He nodded, gazing at her face as if he’d never seen it before. As if he hadn’t already spent a combined total of so many hours staring at her already. “Then that is the one we will find.”

His words settled something inside her she didn’t quite understand, nor could she fathom how he was still so supportive of this. Of her . After everything she’d just told him. After all the coming dangers she’d just explicitly revealed would still be coming for her.

And he’d still said they would find the Bloodshadow prophecy. Together.

A knot of guilt twisted in Rebecca’s stomach, sharper and heavier than any other she’d felt in a very long time.

Then it occurred to her that maybe her Head of Security just hadn’t yet absorbed the full scope of the inherent dangers and overwhelming risks of having anything to do with her.

“Listen, Maxwell…” Now it was her turn to gaze vacantly off through the trees in front of them. “You’ve seen for yourself what I can do. You’ve seen a lot more of it in the last few days than I ever planned to show anyone, honestly. If I hadn’t dragged Shade into this with me, I wouldn’t have had to do any of it. They don’t deserve to suffer like this. Because of who I am…”

Then she forced herself to look up at him again and add what her guilty conscience required her to say. “Neither do you.”

His eyes flashed as he held her gaze and dipped his head toward her. “You have not dragged anyone anywhere. They follow their Roth-Da’al. As do I. The fault does not lie with you.”

Another bitter laugh puffed out of her, dry and dusty and inefficient. “Let’s see how many of them agree with you when I’m gone. I can’t wait any longer. I can’t put anyone else in even more danger just by taking my own sweet time about this. That prophecy is…the key. To everything, really. I have to find it. I have to know…”

Whether she could actually be held responsible for her actions, magically or otherwise? Whether the Bloodshadow Heir was or ever could be anything more than a coveted weapon? Whether she’d been fighting destiny and duty and all their bullshit this whole time, for nothing?

“Where you truly stand in all this,” Maxwell finished for her, his glowing gaze and steady presence unwavering.

He really did understand everything she told him, didn’t he? He understood, and he hadn’t shied away.

The way he gazed at her now made its own incredibly strong case that he wouldn’t shy away sometime in the future, either. Not when he had the chance to do so now and willingly refused.

“Exactly,” she said.

The shifter nodded again, tore his gaze away from her, and resumed their otherwise leisurely stroll through the thick woods, still caught up in his own private contemplation of everything she’d told him.

Rebecca hadn’t told him everything , of course. That would have taken far too long and been too much for anyone to soak in. It would have been too much for her to even put into words all at once.

But it was enough.

More than enough.

He knew everything he needed to know right now, and a bit more than that. If he still chose to remain at her side with all that new knowledge, she would forever be grateful for it.

If he decided it was simply too much, how could she possibly blame him?

Damp, fallen leaves coating the forest floor whispered beneath her bare feet, but Rebecca hardly heard a thing. She was too focused on waiting for a reaction in Maxwell. Some indication that he’d made up his mind after all this new knowledge. A change in the constant, steady sensation of tingling warmth in his presence as they walked side by side.

That presence had now become more of a comfort than an annoyance. Especially after she’d felt so much more of him through their connection. And so much worse.

When the shifter opened his mouth to speak again, she felt the intention in him before he uttered a word. But she certainly hadn’t expected his next question.

“Do you really believe Blackmoon will show himself to join you in this search?”

She paused, blinking quickly in surprise. The possibility of Rowan not following through on his end of their hastily made agreement hadn’t occurred to her, even after his cutting betrayal and how much he’d endangered them all.

She didn’t know why she still trusted him to pull through.

“I do,” she said carefully. “He’ll show up eventually. Though exactly when or how is anyone’s guess. Whatever his methods, he clearly has his ways of finding me when he wants to and revealing himself when it suits him. But yeah. He’ll show up.”

“But there is something more about it,” Maxwell prompted.

It wasn’t a question. He’d picked up on her hesitation even before she’d realized she was feeling it.

“No, it’s not,” she replied. “Blackmoon will eventually show up. But I’m not gonna hold my breath for it, and I can’t afford to stay here with everyone else. Not for a whole week. This is the best opportunity I’m likely to get, to leave Shade in good hands while I look for those records. Maybe the only time to do it that won’t instantly make everyone feel like I’ve abandoned them too. I have to go.”

“I understand,” he rumbled and lifted his chin toward the trees ahead of them, as if steeling himself to face some unknown thing.

As far as either one of them was concerned, it was all unknown.

“When the time comes,” he said, “you and I leave together. It will be safer for everyone else once I’m gone as well.”

Not in the same way that Rebecca’s absence would protect Shade. But he wasn’t talking about her anymore.

He was talking about himself, finally acknowledging how on-edge he’d been since before they’d reached the farmhouse and the shifter compound. And how dangerous it was for him to stay here any longer than necessary.

He’d made up his mind.

Rebecca studied his profile as they walked, knowing this moment for what it was.

If there was ever a perfect opening to lead Maxwell into sharing his truth, this was it.

And she would have to ask him for it.

Trying not to let the discomfort and the fear of breaking open something else inside him color her decision, she took a deep breath and made the jump.

Come what may.

“Maxwell, what happened here?” she asked, hoping she’d found the perfect combination of asking casually while not sounding like she couldn’t have cared less about the answer.

She cared very much.

“With you and these shifters,” she added.

He stopped cold, clenching and unclenching his jaw again, and studied something through the trees she couldn’t see.

But when he finally did look at her, it was with the most horribly pained expression of pride and shame, longing and loss.

Feeling it with him at the same time through their connection, Rebecca knew the answer in an instant.

And the sorrow of it stole her breath.

“They were your pack.”