Page 83 of Legacy Elite

And I found mine at my academy. She was gorgeous arguing with Faris about inherited authority in her first history class.

I did what I was trained to do.

I assessed. I noted the political dimensions, which were considerable even then and are now approximately catastrophic. I decided to say nothing until I understood the situation.

I have understood the situation since about November of last year.

I have still said nothing.

Voss comes over from the shed with his board.

"Miller. Where are you?"

"Six for six in the last two weeks."

"On what?"

Jessica's jaw goes. "On things that need doing."

"Say it properly."

"I can shift when there's a job," she says. "Every time. Placement, drills, the thing with the ropes. If someone needs something moved or found or dragged up a bank, it works." She shoves her hands in her pockets. "And if I'm standing in a field being asked to shift, nothing happens."

"So what you have," Voss says, "is a shift with conditions attached."

"I have a shift."

"You have a reflex with better manners." He makes a note. "Today: no task. Nothing chasing you. Nobody hurt. You shift because you've decided to, or you don't shift."

"That's the same exercise we did in October."

"That's the same exercise you'll be doing in June if you don't crack it," Voss says, and turns to me. "She got closest with you."

"That's because he's irritating," Jessica says.

"Use what works," Voss says, and walks away.

She fails four times.

I let her do all four without saying anything, because the failure has clues and I want to be certain of the issue before I describe it to her.

It's this: she braces. She sets her feet, she squares up, and she takes a breath like a woman about to lift something. Then she concentrates. And about three seconds in, her chin comes up a fraction and her eyes move — and that's the moment. That's where she starts checking. Is it happening? Was that heat? Is that anything?

And the instant she checks, it's gone.

She could do it. It's right there. She is standing in a field two inches from her own wolf and she keeps stopping to ask whether she's arrived.

After the fourth one she says a word I won't repeat and kicks the mat.

"You're grading it," I say.

"What?"

"You start it and then you stop to see how it's going. Every time. You get about three seconds in and then you step outside to have a look at yourself."

She stares at me.

"That's incredibly useful," she says. "Thank you."