Page 118 of The Fifth Heir

I moved aside and gestured toward the kitchen. “After you.”

“You are not walking behind me.”

“I’m wounded by the implication.”

“You’ll recover.”

She followed me anyway.

The Fifth Wing kitchen had become increasingly generous since Talia put on the crystal torc. Food appeared in the cold-storage chest every morning. The oven heated when anyone approached, though it responded fastest to Torren. Cabinets that were empty the first day now contained dried herbs, flour, oil, and enough tea to keep Leander tolerable.

One wall remained bare.

I went to it and lifted the narrow wooden panel beside the pantry.

Talia leaned closer. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

“It was. You were busy threatening me with the Chalice of Rhyne.”

“I did not threaten you.”

“You let me believe a cup might remove my tongue.”

“For three seconds.”

“I’ve suffered longer for less.”

Behind the panel, a silver lever sat inside the wall.

Talia reached toward it, then stopped. “You said you didn’t touch anything.”

“I said I didn’t touch the thing I’m showing you.”

“You touched this.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“A door opened.”

She looked at the unbroken wall.

“It closed again.”

“That may be because you weren’t meant to open it.”

“Or because I didn’t possess the correct torc.”

“Your torc opened the Storm path.”

“It also tried to throw me from a platform.”

“Another reason to stop touching unknown mechanisms.”

“You’re here to supervise now.”

Before she could object, I pulled the lever.