“Watch it!” Ansel yells, lifting Rowan’s arm when it begins to drift down. “You’ll set the whole place on fire!”
“Can’t,” Rowan croaks, slumped against Ansel. “No more.”
“Don’t kill yourself, but get out as much as you can,” Ansel instructs. “You don’t want the pixie dust lingering.”
I twist my hands in my lap, helpless.
Rowan’s fire sputters, nearing its end, and then snuffs out completely.
His legs give out, and he nearly drags Ansel to the floor with him. He drops his wand as he crumples. It lands with a clatter and then rolls under a side bench.
I leap from my stool. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’s just passed out,” Ansel says calmly as he lowers Rowan to the floor. “It’s almost impossible to drain your magic to the point it will kill you, because you’ll almost always fall unconscious first. He should wake up in a few minutes.”
I reach for his wrist and then panic. “I don’t feel a pulse!”
“You’re not even checking the right spot.” Ansel takes over, pressing two fingers to Rowan’s wrist. After a moment, he nods. “He’s fine.”
Marginally relieved, I sit back on my heels. “You’re sure he’s going to be okay?”
“Pretty sure,” Ansel says, being too honest again. “I’m not a healer, so I can’t say for certain.”
I drop my head into my hands, breathing hard. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Why did we do this?
If Rowan doesn’t wake up, I’ll never be able to tell him that I still love him. If he doesn’t wake up, I’ll never know if he loves me.
“So…” Ansel says, attempting to fill the silence. “How do you feel? Still bonded?”
“No.” I drop my hands and stare blankly at the sorcerer. “My magic recoiled from the shadow pixie magic, just like you said it would. I felt the bond separate.”
“It worked!” Ansel exclaims, undaunted by Rowan’s unconscious form between us. “That’s excellent news.”
“Excellent,” I repeat, my tone flat.
Ansel looks down at Rowan with a frown and gives his shoulder a nudge. “It’s taking a while for him to wake up, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
Ansel looks at the too-loud clock on the wall. “Let’s give him two more minutes.”
“And then what?” I whisper.
“And then we’re going to call the clinic.”
These are the longest two minutes of my entire life. I stare at the second hand as it makes its way around the face of the clock. The moment it’s made two full journeys, I look back at Ansel. “He’s not awake.”
Ansel groans out a curse and pulls his phone from his pocket. He hits a number in his contacts and seconds later says, “It’s Ansel from Moss Hollow Rocks and Gems. I need a healer.”
“You said worst-case scenario!”I whisper to Ansel from the waiting room of the Moss Hollow Clinic.
“He’s not trapped in an endless string of nightmares,” the sorcerer argues. “He’s just a little unconscious.”
“A little?”
“For all we know, this is a side effect of tampering with the bond magic. It won’t affect a pixie the same way it’ll affect a shifter.”
“So this is my fault?” I whisper-hiss.
