Page 44 of The Fifth Heir

“The bruise?”

“The selection.”

I considered giving her the answer everyone expected.

I could have said that five heirs were impossible. I could have reminded her that she had never shifted and possessed no known element. I could have listed every reason Malcolm had already given for treating the fifth beam as an unstable discharge.

None of that would explain why the wing had opened or why a crystal torc made for her had waited inside it.

“I don’t know what happened,” I said.

“That sounds like a careful way of saying yes.”

“It’s an honest way of saying I don’t know.”

She studied me.

The runes remained clear.

“If Malcolm determines the beam was an accident,” I continued, “you go back to the Hall. If the selection stands, you enter the Trials.”

Her hand lowered slightly. “And die.”

“Not if you prepare.”

“I have no dragon.”

“You may have no dragon. We don’t know that yet.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“I know.”

“First shifts occur at sixteen or seventeen. Eighteen is considered late. At twenty, the academy records you as wingless.”

“I know that too.”

“Then you know preparation won’t give me wings.”

“No. It will keep you alive while the academy determines what the Prism saw.”

She looked at the cloth pressed to her shoulder. “Why would you help me?”

The answer arrived too quickly.

Because the thought of finding her bed empty again had felt wrong.

Because the Prism had selected her, and something in me had accepted that before the academy did.

I gave her the only answer I was prepared to say aloud.

“I didn’t say I would.”

The runes flashed orange.

I almost smiled.

“I said you deserve the chance to prepare.”