Page 31 of Demon Touched

“Are you all right?” I ask, because as he gets closer, I see he looks a little dazed.

“Yes, no. I mean…” he takes a moment to collect himself. “I just ran into General Garion. General Garion Illidore. I mean, can you believe it? The man’s a legend. He only⁠—”

“Efram,” I cut off his rambling. “Are you saying that my grandfather is here at the academy?”

“Oh yeah,” Efram says, returning to the point of our conversation. “He sent me to fetch you. He wants to talk.”

As I follow Efram back across the training field, I’m suddenly aware of a strange tension in my body. It doesn’t belong to me, however.

“Did he say your grandfather’s name was Illidore?” Syrus asks, and I don’t miss the odd, strained quality to his voice.

“Yes,” I say. I’m curious, but I try to keep my face blank so Efram doesn’t get suspicious. “He was my mother’s father. And you saw my cousin Filippa at the arena. She’s also an Illidore. Why?”

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, I feel a rush of sensation, and Syrus is gone from my mind.

Chapter 10

Leah

Idon’t have much time to puzzle over Syrus’s sudden departure, because soon I’ve arrived where my grandfather’s waiting for me. Efram leaves me in the gardens at the perimeter of the academy grounds. They’re right on the edge of this tier of the city, the terraces and neat shrubs bordering a steep drop where the city falls away, providing an impressive view of Luminis’s lower levels.

“General Garion,” I say, greeting the tall, striking figure standing on a terrace above me. Maybe it’s a military thing, always naturally gravitating to the highest ground. I have to climb up several steps to reach him.

When I reach the top, I look into his serious face. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if he was a more cuddly kind of grandfather, internally laughing at myself when I imagine calling him Gramps.

That amusement fades fast when he turns fully toward me, the light catching on the many medals pinned to the front of his jacket.

“I was disappointed not to see you after the trial, Leah,” he says, with all the warmth of a soldier reprimanding a subordinate.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you expected me,” I lie. I don’t particularly like having to call him sir—Garion hasn’t done anything to earn my deference—but my gut tells me that anything less would offend the general, and I don’t want to piss off one of my few allies in Aradis.

“I was also disappointed to learn that Filippa hasn’t been teaching you what she should about our family line,” he continues, lifting his chin to look over my head, across the gardens. “I told her to correct that as soon as possible. It’s not appropriate that an Illidore should be representing our family without knowledge of our ancestors and bloodline.”

“We haven’t had much time to discuss any of that,” I say, hoping to redeem my cousin in his eyes. “I have a lot of catching up to do, and Filippa’s help has been focused on ensuring I survive the trials.”

He makes a skeptical huff. “Of course, it makes sense to prioritize your combat skills given the situation, but I doubt Filippa has been much help in that department either. She inherited too much of her father’s line,” he says, as if her father’s line was a dead insect he’s just found floating in his drink.

I want to defend Filippa, to point out that she’s smart and funny and loyal and kind—and that being good at flying and fighting is hardly everything, but I also know there’s no point. From what I’ve seen and heard of the general, he clutches tightly to traditional ephilium values. Which means those things are probably everything to Garion, and annoying him by arguing right now would probably just create more trouble for me and my cousin.

So I bite my tongue and, in my silence, feel a prickle up the back of my neck as Syrus slips into my mind again.

The Lord of Malice really deserves a prize for terrible timing.

I’m tempted to tell him that, but I need to stay focused on Garion and making sure he doesn’t notice any signs of a demon possession in action. As he watches me with the same green eyes as my mother—as me—I know he’d be quick to spot even a flicker of something being off.

“If Filippa had taught you the first thing about our family, you would know that though her mother raised her in Luminis with her father,” —that same disdain in his tone again— “the Illidores actually hail from Aphelion.”

I nod to show I’m following. Really, the only thing I know about Aphelion, Aradis’s second-largest city, is that Rowan’s family is from there, and that it was named after the fabled son of the Everlight Syrus once told me a story about. Speaking of which, Syrus is staying wonderfully quiet, though I can sense that same, strange tension still wrapped around his presence. I can feel him watching Garion out of my eyes, studying him hard.

“Are you visiting Luminis to watch the trials, then?” I ask, trying to avoid any lulls in the conversation which might invite Garion’s scrutiny.

“In part,” Garion says. “But mostly I came on Aphelion’s behalf. Our region requires better representation here.” He makes a grumble at the back of his throat, seeming frustrated. “I would not have to explain myself if you hadn’t been raised as an ignorant human, but there’s a lot you don’t understand.”

I cross my arms, trying to hold back some of my own irritation at his insult. “I’m a fast learner,” I say, pleased I manage to keep my voice calm and cool. “So why don’t you just try to stick to the basics?”

“You are a fast learner,” he agrees matter-of-factly. “It’s why you’re not dead yet. But we will get to that later. Very well. Firstly, you should know that the three cities of Aradis and their surrounding regions are meant to share equal power.”

“I thought Luminis was the capital?” I ask.