Page 30 of Elven Crown

That felt like the only way to ensure she didn’t lose him. Once again, it took standing at the precipice of losing him to remember just how much she didn’t want to.

Rowan was like family. More than family. More a part of her than her own flesh and blood within the Bloodshadow Court. She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She couldn’t just sit here and watch him die.

She’d only wanted to hurt him a little, mostly to scare him away, but now it was clear she had more than crossed that line. If he died here tonight, there would be no coming back from this.

He would be gone to her forever, and Rebecca would be…what?

She didn’t know, but the thought of it mortified her into continued inaction.

Two minutes till midnight now, and still nothing.

From the corner of her eye, she saw other Shade members whispering to each other, each of them afraid to move or to saymuch at all while they waited for something else to happen. She couldn’t hear them.

The only thing in her awareness now was the image of Rowan lying slack and motionless on the floor, the heat of guilt mixing with the frigid, stone-cold dread sinking in her gut, and the deafening rush of her racing pulse pounding in her chest and through her ears, drowning out everything else.

She wanted to be positive. She wanted to root for him, to see him pull through, but she couldn’t fight off the agonizing certainty that she’d just ruined everything.

Wiping tingling, clammy palms on the legs of her black jeans, Rebecca looked at the clock one more time. One minute left, that was it.

Rowan lay there, his skin still blue and streaked with cracks of dark gray. Nothing changed.

That was it, then. Rebecca was done sitting here and watching. She was done doing nothing. The seconds ticked toward midnight, and she made her decision.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she shoved herself out of her chair on the dais and leapt to her feet, ready to launch herself across the room and try to save him before it was too late.

The second the soles of her shoes thumped down onto the makeshift stage, someone else across the room gasped and shouted, “Look!”

Rebecca froze, and of course she looked.

The blue-gray flush tinting Rowan’s entire body faded and morphed, softening, lightening, returning a ruddy hue of light and life and existence to his flesh that only moments before had looked as dead and nonliving as stone.

His cheeks were flushed. The pointed tips of his ears were deep pink as they emerged from within his russet hair that had come undone while he’d battled for his life on the floor.

When his hazel eyes snapped open, illuminating a deep glowing-orange light from within as he drew one horrifyingly long, endless, desperate gasp, Rebecca’s knees weakened.

The entire world and all of existence and the passage of time crashed back into reality around her all at once. Somehow, she still managed to keep her feet firmly planted on the dais, still felt like all the breath had left her lungs.

That orange glow in Rowan’s eyes brought back so many memories in an instant—made her want to reach out to him.

But then the light faded, his eyes returning to their normal luminous hazel as he blinked straight up at the ceiling and took another deep breath.

The wavering, reverberating bellow of an enormous gong filled the training gym, followed by Bor’s booming voice.

“Rowan Blackmoon… Your striving is complete!”

Holy shit, he actually did it!

Blinking in surprise and still numbed by shock, Rowan pushed himself off his back to sit there in the middle of the casting circle. His gaze flickered around the entire room like he still didn’t remember where he was.

Then the silent tension filling the gym crackled and shattered beneath the explosive cheers rising from Shade, all of whom had come here specifically to see this.

When the first wave of spectators surged forward out of their seats, or launched themselves away from where they’d stood against walls or support pillars, Rowan stiffened.

He looked like he was about to scramble backward toward some perceived safety, but then the first magical crossed the threshold of the casting circle painted on the floor without any reaction or backlash.

Then it looked like Rowan remembered where he was.

The Striving was over.

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