Chapter 6
Jane
Hildegard was already in the bright infirmary when we arrived that morning, her hands pressed against Father’s chest.
The healer’s ash-brown hair was swept into a high bun, streaked with two silver strands that caught the light atop her head. Her tall frame was draped in a sage-green robe that all the other healers wore.
She visited him at least twice a day, probing with her hands first before turning to other instruments that allowed her to peer inside his body.
A glance at Joy made my mouth twitch. My younger sister never failed to grimace at Hildegard’s ministrations, as though the woman were mad.
“He remains stable, and there are still no changes today,” Hildegard said. “He must continue resting.”
I murmured my thanks.
Reagan and Finn used that as their cue, stepping into the infirmary, voices low as they exchanged murmurs by the doorway.
“I understand you have an exam today as well,” Hildegard said, gesturing for us to follow.
The room she led us to was bright and clinical. A tall, white chair dominated its centre, wide-armed and elevated by a step. Joy froze at the threshold.
“You are here for a blood exam to determine if there is any trace of mana in your system,” Hildegard explained.
“Certain components can reveal themselves in the sample. We’ll repeat the test a few times, and the average will indicate the density of your access relative to your body weight. Do you have any questions?”
Joy edged sideways, weight rocking between her legs. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, it’s necessary,” Reagan said steadily but not coldly.
“I’ll go first,” I told her, turning to Hildegard. “You just draw the blood?”
“Exactly,” she replied, motioning toward the chair. “I will ask you to hold the sanguinite in your hand and keep it closed. You should feel some warmth, but not much.” Hildegard produced a sand-coloured gemstone, its edges veined with white lines.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“It acts as a conduit,” she explained, sliding the gemstone into my palm. “It helps channel mana from your access and into your veins so we can measure it during the exam.”
As she moved toward her table, I took in Joy’s wary gaze studying the room, Finn leaning casually against the wall, and Reagan approaching my chair with his hands in his pockets.
“Is this one like your heartstone?” I asked him, lifting the gemstone.
He inclined his head. “Yes and no. Veinstones are not the same as heartstones. Sanguinite is a veinstone, and it doesn’t store mana, just channels it if you cannot wield it yourself yet.”
It always did appear as though his power coursed through his veins, brightened beneath his skin. Interesting that my assumption wasn’t too far off.
My eyes levelled with his chest, where a heartstone had rested for seven years, the tether that had turned ivory and testified to his good nature.
I found myself looking at the one in my hand and wondering where it had come from, whether mined within Mountheim’s lands or imported from other regions so Hildegard could use it.
Reagan’s eyes shifted to my hand. “You have to remove your ring.”
Right. I slipped it off, ready to hold it myself, but he extended a hand as if to take it. “It’s better if it’s away from you.”
“Yes, please give him your relic,” Hildegard said. “If it’s not a problem, I recommend not using it anymore. Rune relics can leave lasting effects in your system.”
“It’s not natural to use them for such a long time,” Reagan added.
“Right, it’s not a problem,” I murmured. “I won’t wear it, but I want to keep it.”
My mother had left it to me and Joy, and that alone raised a litany of questions in my mind.
“Ready?” Hildegard asked, holding a common syringe in one hand.
With my consent, she positioned my arm and sprayed a cold, metallic-scented mist from a small bottle. The crook of my elbow tingled, and she slipped in the needle.
“Done.” Hildegard poured my blood into a small case attached to the chair, then carried it to her desk. Not even a single drop remained on my arm.
Shouldn’t I have felt something? Aside from the scent and the tingling, nothing.
Joy’s eyes followed me.
“It feels like any other exam,” I reassured her.
Finn and Reagan watched Hildegard, bending over her desk, her back shielding whatever she was doing. As she stepped aside, I glimpsed a narrow cylinder with a glass base, rotating slowly before settling.
“So?” Finn asked.
“Zero point three units of wielding level,” Hildegard announced, eyes flicking to the readings.
Silence stretched. Reagan stared at the floor, and my anxiety surged in tandem with his stillness.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Hildegard faced me. “Zero point three is inconclusive. The manifestation threshold is zero point nine units. Your access could merely be environmental resonance. A rune you touched, or some trace in the air.”
“I can’t wield, then?” I tried to sound neutral, facing the healer.
The silence buzzed in my ears.
It was strange that part of me had wanted Reagan to be right, as though the implication that I’d been lied to my entire life would have been better than this. But there was no denying the heavy glum that filled me.
Her mouth parted, but Reagan interjected. “Could the ring she wore influence this?”
“The ring could have a side effect, yes,” Hildegard said.
“The sanguinite should have drawn from her access, but Jane wore that relic for a long time. Years of blocking her access could have permanently impacted her sensitivity to mana. We need to observe the behaviour for the next few days and test again.”
Reagan went to the desk, examining the cylinder with my blood. Hildegard gestured for Joy to approach the chair.
When he turned, he held my ring between his fingers. “Can I hold this for a few days?”
“Not what you expected?” I asked, not reaching for my ring.
He tucked it away. “I didn’t expect a clear result,” he said evenly. “It takes several tests before we can draw a conclusion. I should have asked you to take this off yesterday.”
I hummed.
Joy perched on the chair, her back ramrod straight.
Hildegard repeated the process, sliding the gemstone into Joy’s hands before moving away to prepare the syringe. A crease deepened between Joy’s pale brows, and her other hand twisted at a fingernail, reddening the skin.
“You look tense,” I murmured, stepping closer to her. “Don’t tell me you’re about to pass out.”
Joy didn’t meet my eyes, yet the edge of her mouth lifted. “I’m not the fainter here."
She was referring to one of the times we visited our father's physician, when I had felt mildly dizzy at our town's clinic.
Reagan’s smirk drew my attention to him.
“I didn’t faint,” I bit out.
From the way Reagan assessed me, my tone had bled some resentment.
I hadn't felt well that morning, and I wouldn't have gone with them if I hadn't needed to. But Father had the exam, and Joy was on the verge of an episode. She'd been pacing the living room before we left, scratching at the bite mark beneath her sleeve.
A quiet inhale from Joy pulled me out of my thoughts as Hildegard eased the needle beneath her skin.
“Relax,” she instructed softly before withdrawing and repeating the same process.
We waited as the healer worked, studying the vial, taking a little more time than with mine. When she turned to us, she spoke with a puzzled tone. “Eight units of wielding level. Joy can wield eight times her weight.”
Finn’s mouth pursed as he studied Joy, while Reagan raised one brow.
“That’s impressive,” Reagan said.
“Her access signature is clean and remarkably high,” Hildegard added.
“Explain to us what this means,” I asked.
Finn answered, matter-of-fact, “On average, a person in a rested state can wield one and a half times their weight. Joy can wield eight times hers. It’s…quite high.”
I pivoted towards Joy, silently asking if she had any questions. Her brows remained creased, her eyes edged with scepticism, as though even if she did, she wouldn’t ask them.
I sighed. “How much can you wield?” I asked Reagan, recalling the memory of him dealing with a group of Strzygas, trying to visualize what those amounts meant.
“My average is higher than most,” he said. “I was trained to access more, twelve times my weight on average. But she doesn’t have any training.”
“Finn?” I prompted.
“Three times my weight,” he said swiftly.
Above average, yes, but modest compared to Joy’s reading.
“As I said, this is the first exam,” Hildegard added. “We’ll repeat it in two days. Joy, you shouldn’t use your ring for the coming weeks either.”
Finn shot Reagan a glance, unspoken communication passing between them. The latter’s gaze moved to my sister.
“Joy,” Reagan said, “I have a present for you.”