Page 96 of The Fifth Heir

“Much,” I added.

“Training is over.”

“If Malcolm keeps me in the Trials, I won’t be able to stop because something hurts.”

“If you damage the shoulder now, it won’t heal before the next Trial.”

“We don’t know when that will be.”

“That strengthens my argument.”

I raised my hands. “One more.”

“No.”

I moved anyway.

Torren caught my left wrist. I twisted exactly as he taught me, but when I turned, pain pulled through my right shoulder.

My balance failed.

He caught me around the waist before I hit the stone.

My feet left the ground.

For one disorienting second, he held all of my weight against him. I gripped his shoulders, and his hands tightened at my waist.

“Put me down.”

“When you’re steady.”

“I’m steady.”

“You’re trembling.”

“So are you.”

His eyes met mine.

The runes surrounding the terrace turned red again.

Not orange. Not the deep gold of amusement.

Red.

Torren lowered me slowly. My body moved against his until my boots touched the floor, but his hands remained at my waist.

Neither of us stepped away.

He looked at my mouth.

My breath caught.

This time, the walls had nothing to do with it.

I had spent two days being examined, doubted, and discussed by people who looked at me and saw a mistake the academy had not corrected. Torren had looked at me and seen someone worth keeping alive. He had believed my warning inside the Trial when winning required him to ignore it.

I rose onto my toes.