Page 3 of The Fifth Heir

Not heat.

Recognition.

I jerked my hand back.

The sensation vanished so quickly that the word seemed foolish the moment it formed. Runes sometimes retained traces of old magic, particularly during an awakening cycle. Master Orin had warned every junior keeper to expect heat, vibration, and even brief sounds from inscriptions that had lain dormant.

He had never mentioned a rune feeling like a second pulse answering my own.

I pressed my fingers to the first mark again.

Nothing happened.

“Talia, what are you doing?”

I stood too fast and struck my shoulder against the lamp bracket. The iron frame rattled, sending a thin line of oil sloshing against the glass.

Camilla crossed the Hall before I could answer.

Unlike me, she wore no keeper’s robe. Her fitted ceremonial uniform was slate gray, the color traditionally worn by Stone candidates, with bronze fastenings running from her collar to her waist. Her dark hair had been braided and pinned high enough to expose the protective scales along the sides of her neck.

Those scales had appeared during her first shift. Mine had not.

She stopped in front of the lamp and steadied its frame.

“Did you damage it?”

“No.”

“Are you hurt?”

The questions came in that order, but her hand had already lifted toward me before she asked the second.

I rotated my shoulder. Pain spread down my upper arm, but nothing felt broken. “No.”

Her gaze lingered on me before moving to the floor. “What were you looking at?”

“I found another inscription.”

Camilla bent slightly. I moved aside so she could see the marks, although they were difficult to distinguish unless the light caught them at an angle.

“Those are scratches.”

“They’re too regular.”

“Then they’re probably decorative.”

“They were packed with residue.” I crouched again and pointed to the first line. “See how deeply that one is cut? I think the lamp was placed over part of it.”

“Talia.”

The single word held the patient warning I had heard throughout childhood. Camilla never needed to raise her voice. She could end an argument by making the other person feel unreasonable for beginning it.

“I’m not suggesting it’s important,” I said. “But it should be entered in the maintenance record.”

“Today?”

“If we don’t record it now, we might lose track of where it was found.”