Page 116 of The Fifth Heir

People mistook humor for an inability to recognize pain. Usually, that suited me. If they were busy expecting a joke, they rarely noticed how carefully I chose the moment to make one. Talia needed something easier to fight than whatever her sister had left behind.

“You look terrible,” I said.

Talia turned. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean physically.”

“That did not improve it.”

“The scale is interesting.”

Her left hand moved over her wrapped wrist.

I had tried to see it three times that morning. The first attempt produced nothing. The second produced a flash of color so brief I thought I imagined it. On the third, Sebastian held the light while Talia adjusted her arm, and I finally saw the transparent edge.

I had never seen a scale without color.

I had also never seen someone look frightened by proof that she was exactly what she had spent years wishing to become.

“Your sister didn’t like it?” I asked.

“She was surprised.”

“She hid it well.”

“You were listening?”

“The room was quiet.”

“You were in the common room.”

“Yes.”

“We were in the study.”

“Also yes.”

The wall runes turned orange.

I smiled. “You’re starting to understand how this works.”

“I understand that you enjoy irritating me.”

“The room enjoys it too.”

“I’m going to the archive.”

I stepped in front of her.

“No.”

She stopped so abruptly that the crystal torc flashed against her throat. “Have you been taking lessons from Torren?”

“He’s very persuasive when he uses that word.”

“Move.”

“You’ve spent the morning being examined. You spent the afternoon telling your sister everything that happened. Now you want to spend the evening working.”