Page 20 of Elven Crown

Directly behind Maxwell, the five most trusted and experienced members of his handpicked security team entered next. Five Shade members answering directly to the task force’s Head of Security, with a sixth figure moving at the center of their protective formation.

No one touched that sixth figure as they guided him toward the center of the room. They didn’t have to.

Rowan had already been sufficiently bound with a combination of heavy iron chains rigged with dampening wards and submission hexes to keep him from trying anything until The Striving was complete.

Even a scion of the Blackmoon Clan couldn’t have gotten himself out of those bindings on his own, though Rowan didn’t look the least bit concerned for his own wellbeing or the state of his unknown future.

He walked within the security formation with a constant smirk riding his lips. The expression remained as he noted the entire task force lining the perimeter of the training gym to watch his magical performance tonight. He even nodded to a few of them, adding a flash of brilliant grin to whoever he thought worthy of receiving it.

As though, even while bound, warded, and rendered almost useless by the chains and the magic surrounding him, this was all still one massive joke to him. A comedy of errors from which he would of course rise victorious, because that was what Rowan Blackmoon did.

Only he’d never had Rebecca Bloodshadow waiting there on the sidelines and meddling with the mechanisms of an ancient rite she’d thought she understood.

Now it was too late to take it back.

Rowan’s amusement didn’t surprise her. He still thought he was superior to everyone else in this room—in strength, speed, skill, and ability.

That would have been true, if Rebecca hadn’t dosed that potion flask with her own magic. The only power in this room, maybe even in this entire world, stronger than his.

While Maxwell and his team led their elven prisoner toward the central casting circle, the feeling of being trapped and suffocated and robbed of all agency only grew thicker around Rebecca, closing in by the second and tightening its awful hold on her with every breath.

What have I done?

8

Fuck.

Now she was officially screwed. Maxwell was here, which meant he would stay for the entire trial, and afterward, he would be a part of every stage of The Striving. Clearly, the shifter intended to keep his eye on their new elven initiate every second, without fail, until this was over.

He would be the first to notice anything amiss if Rebecca tried to step in again. She knew it without a doubt.

Some power becoming the Roth-Da’al had given her, huh? She couldn’t even save a friend from her own idiocy, because doing so would only make things worse.

Once Rowan reached his destination under the strict guidance of his security entourage, Maxwell’s team made sure the elf man stepped over and into the boundaries of the casting circle before they unlocked the chains binding his wrists and diffused the dampening wards keeping his inherent magic at bay.

Over all the whispers floating around the gym, the hushed voices, and the violent ferocity of bated breath while everyone waited for the trial to begin, Rebecca couldn’t hear what Rowan had said to his security handlers. She did, however, have a much better view of him when they all stepped aside, rolling their eyes or shaking their heads, each of them refusing to respond.

He looked like he might have been laughing, even when he offered the last security guy a perfunctory nod and a shallow bow that probably would have looked like a gesture of gratitude and respect coming from anyone else.

When Rowan did it, though, it transformed into a mocking insult.

That was definitely familiar.

Rowan showed no sign of fear or even slight concern inside that circle.

Rebecca hadn’t been afraid either when she’d been led to that exact same place to move through the same trials six months ago.

Then again, no one had known her personally six months ago. No one had felt a need to rig The Striving to ensure she failed. No one had had a reason to even try. If they had, they wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell of besting her that way.

Not with the Bloodshadow magic coursing through her veins.

But Rowan?

Rowan had her, someone he’d known all his life. Someone he’d called a friend. Someone who knew him inside and out.

Someone who could bring him to his knees with something as simple as adding a little change to the ritual potion he would eventually consume tonight.

Would he have looked a little less full of himself if he’d known she’d just meddled with the ceremony to keep him at arm’s length?

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