Crowned in Shadows.

Kael hated loose ends.

The underground city of Ravaryn was not kind to those who left questions unanswered, and yet—here she was, pacing the dimly lit tunnels beneath the market, thinking about him.

The man with the cocky grin. The one who had disarmed her.

It wasn't just that he had been fast. It wasn't just that he had dodged her arrows with the ease of someone who had seen far too many battles.

It was that he didn't belong here.

And people who didn't belong in Ravaryn always had a reason for being here.

Bast watched her from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He had been silent for a while now, but Kael knew that look—he was waiting.

"Go ahead," she muttered, still pacing. "Say whatever lesson you've been dying to teach me."

Bast let out a dry chuckle. "I don't have a lesson for this one, girl. Just an observation."

She stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"You're bothered."

Kael tensed. "I am not."

He tilted his head. "Really? Because I think you're more upset about losing that fight than the fact that you let a potential threat run free."

Her fingers twitched. "I did not—"

"You hesitated," Bast cut in smoothly, pushing off the wall. "And for the first time since I took you in, someone knocked that damned bow out of your hands."

Kael swallowed hard.

She hated how well he knew her.

Bast's expression softened just slightly, the way it always did when he knew he had pushed her too close to an edge she wasn't ready to face. "You're still good, Kael. One fight doesn't change that."

"I should have won," she bit out.

Bast sighed. "And yet, here we are."

She scowled.

He wasn't wrong.

It had been years since Kael had been bested in combat. The people of Ravaryn knew her reputation, and while she never cared for their whispered admiration, she did care about being seen as untouchable. In a city like this, respect kept you alive.

And now, a smug stranger had waltzed in and shaken her balance.

No.

She wouldn't allow it.

She needed to find him.

Meanwhile…

Riven stretched out lazily on the rooftop of a run-down tavern, arms folded behind his head as he stared at the low-hanging ceiling of Ravaryn's underground cavern. The rock above was jagged, flickering with the dim light of the city's torches.

"You're acting way too relaxed for someone in your situation," Jorrik muttered beside him.

Riven grinned. "You worry too much."

Jorrik groaned. "You almost got killed."

"Key word: almost."

"You like this, don't you?" Jorrik turned to glare at him. "Being hunted? Pissing off dangerous people?"

Riven shrugged. "Wouldn't be fun otherwise."

Jorrik muttered a string of curses under his breath before shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Riven only smirked.

The truth was, he should be worried. He knew that. He was in the middle of a lawless city where he had no allies, only people who would gladly sell him out for coin if they ever learned his true identity.

And yet, all he could think about was her.

Kael.

Fierce, sharp-eyed Kael.

The girl who should have killed him but hadn't.

The girl who had pressed a dagger to his throat and didn't flinch.

"Don't look now," Jorrik murmured suddenly, "but we have company."

Riven sat up just in time to see Kael standing at the entrance of the alley below.

She had found him.

And she did not look happy.

The Confrontation

Kael's footsteps were measured, steady, but there was a tension in her shoulders that told Riven exactly what kind of mood she was in.

"Well, well," Riven drawled, hopping down from the rooftop with ease. "Miss me already?"

Kael didn't even blink. "You're coming with me."

Riven smirked. "Funny, I don't recall agreeing to that."

She moved fast.

Before Jorrik could even blink, Kael had Riven pinned against the wall, the cold edge of her dagger pressing beneath his jaw.

Jorrik swore, stepping forward, but Riven lifted a lazy hand. "Don't worry, Jorrik. We're just getting reacquainted."

Kael's storm-gray eyes burned. "Who are you?"

Riven tilted his head. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself first? It's rude, y'know, demanding answers without giving your own name."

Kael's grip tightened on the dagger. "I know what kind of man you are."

"Do you, sweetheart?"

"Stop calling me that."

His smirk widened.

Kael pushed the dagger a fraction deeper. "You don't belong in Ravaryn. So what are you doing here?"

Riven studied her for a moment, then—just to annoy her—grinned. "Looking for a wife. Thought you might be a good candidate."

Kael punched him.

Hard.

His head snapped to the side, but the grin never left his face. If anything, it grew.

"Now, see, that's exactly why I like you," he murmured, wiping the blood from his lip.

Kael exhaled sharply, stepping back. She didn't have time for his games.

"You're coming with me," she repeated, her voice firm. "You owe me answers."

Riven sighed dramatically. "And if I refuse?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Then I break your legs and drag you."

Jorrik snorted.

Riven looked her up and down, curiosity flickering in his eyes before he finally rolled his shoulders. "Fine. But just so you know, sweetheart—"

Her glare cut him off.

Riven grinned.

"This is going to be fun."