Joy’s eyes followed me.
“It feels like any other exam,” I reassured her.
Finn and Reagan watched Hildegard, bending over her desk, her back shielding whatever she was doing. As she stepped aside, I glimpsed a narrow cylinder with a glass base, rotating slowly before settling.
“So?” Finn asked.
“Zero point three units of wielding level,” Hildegard announced, eyes flicking to the readings.
Silence stretched. Reagan stared at the floor, and my anxiety surged in tandem with his stillness.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Hildegard faced me. “Zero point three is inconclusive. The manifestation threshold is zero point nine units. Your access could merely be environmental resonance. A rune you touched, or some trace in the air.”
“I can’t wield, then?” I tried to sound neutral, facing the healer.
The silence buzzed in my ears.
It was strange that part of me had wanted Reagan to be right, as though the implication that I’d been lied to my entire life would have been better than this. But there was no denying the heavy glum that filled me.
Her mouth parted, but Reagan interjected. “Could the ring she wore influence this?”
“The ring could have a side effect, yes,” Hildegard said. “The sanguinite should have drawn from her access, but Jane wore that relic for a long time. Years of blocking her access could have permanently impacted her sensitivity to mana. We need to observe the behaviour for the next few days and test again.”
Reagan went to the desk, examining the cylinder with my blood. Hildegard gestured for Joy to approach the chair.
When he turned, he held my ring between his fingers. “Can I hold this for a few days?”
“Not what you expected?” I asked, not reaching for my ring.
He tucked it away. “I didn’t expect a clear result,” he said evenly. “It takes several tests before we can draw a conclusion. I should have asked you to take this off yesterday.”
I hummed.
Joy perched on the chair, her back ramrod straight.
Hildegard repeated the process, sliding the gemstone into Joy’s hands before moving away to prepare the syringe. A crease deepened between Joy’s pale brows, and her other hand twisted at a fingernail, reddening the skin.
“You look tense,” I murmured, stepping closer to her. “Don’t tell me you’re about to pass out.”
Joy didn’t meet my eyes, yet the edge of her mouth lifted. “I’m not the fainter here."
She was referring to one of the times we visited our father's physician, when I had felt mildly dizzy at our town's clinic.
Reagan’s smirk drew my attention to him.
“I didn’t faint,” I bit out.
From the way Reagan assessed me, my tone had bled some resentment.
I hadn't felt well that morning, and I wouldn't have gone with them if I hadn't needed to. But Father had the exam, and Joy was on the verge of an episode. She'd been pacing the living room before we left, scratching at the bite mark beneath her sleeve.
A quiet inhale from Joy pulled me out of my thoughts as Hildegard eased the needle beneath her skin.
“Relax,” she instructed softly before withdrawing and repeating the same process.
We waited as the healer worked, studying the vial, taking a little more time than with mine. When she turned to us, she spoke with a puzzled tone. “Eight units of wielding level. Joy can wield eight times her weight.”
