Page 62 of The Fifth Heir

My name did not appear anywhere.

“The entrance required all five of us to open the Fifth Wing,” he said. “The Trial may do the same.”

“That doesn’t answer what happens after it opens.”

“No.”

“Do you have any reassuring theories?”

“None supported by evidence.”

“Thank you.”

“You prefer false reassurance?”

“This morning, I might.”

His gaze held mine for a moment.

“If the Trial requires your torc,” he said, “then you belong at its threshold. Whatever the written rules claim.”

It was not reassurance. Not exactly.

It steadied something inside me anyway.

Torren entered carrying a tray from the dining room. Bread, sliced fruit, cheese, and five cups had appeared in the kitchen sometime during the night.

He placed a plate in front of me.

“I can serve myself.”

“You didn’t.”

“I just arrived.”

“You’ve been sitting here for several minutes.”

Sebastian checked the wall clock. “Four minutes.”

Torren gave him a look.

I picked up a piece of bread before the discussion became another argument about whether I could feed myself.

The wall runes turned gold.

Rafe entered behind Leander and pointed upward. “They approve.”

“The runes respond to emotion, not behavior,” I said.

“Torren is happy because you’re eating. Same result.”

Torren’s expression remained serious, but the flames in the hearth burned brighter.

I ate the bread.

Rafe grinned.

Torren did not, but he pushed the fruit closer.