Page 50 of Demon Touched

“What? How did you—” I’m so flustered at being read so easily that I barely catch myself before saying way more than I should. “I mean, what makes you say that?”

He gives a half shrug. “Just a guess. You seem distracted sometimes, like there’s more weighing on you than just the trials.”

“Just the trials,” I repeat. They’re not exactly a small thing—although to someone like Rowan, who’s almost guaranteed to do well, perhaps they are.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Rowan says, intrigued. “There was someone back in Strata, but you had to leave them to come here, and you’re still hung up on them.”

“I…uh…” My shoulders drop. It’s the easiest explanation, because it’s mostly true. “Yeah, more or less,” I say.

Rowan nods. “That’s got to be tough. But listen, you made the right choice. Whoever that person was, they’re in your past now, and you’re where you’re meant to be.”

“You think?” I ask weakly.

“Are you kidding? You just got here. You should be miles behind everyone. But look how well you’re doing: holding your own in the first trial and acing that lesson on runic magic.”

I manage to keep my face neutral, but my stomach drops a little. Because I didn’t succeed in either of those things on my own. Without Syrus, I’d never be able to read Cyrax, and I would’ve ended up a tasty wolf treat. I want to believe I belong here, but I can’t help feeling like I cheated my way into Rowan’s respect.

“You can have a good life in Aradis,” Rowan continues, ducking a little to meet my gaze. “You just have to give your all to it, and maybe stop keeping one foot in the past.”

But Syrus isn’t only in my past. He’s haunting my present, climbing into my head every night and undoing any progress I might’ve made. Undoing me.

“Thanks,” I say. “You’re probably right. I just think maybe I need a little more time.”

I mostly say it to buy myself some breathing room, but Rowan smiles like this is a win.

“Of course. We should be focusing on the trials right now anyway—on proving ourselves. You know, I have a feeling both of us are going to make an impression with the Brigade and the seraphim. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What is it?”

We’ve reached the grassy field beside the nest, and now he checks around us before pulling me into the gazebo and lowering his voice.

“The tip you gave me about the oracle. It turns out it was good.”

“Yeah?” I say. “How do you know?”

A flicker of a grimace crosses Rowan’s face before he shifts his expression back to its usual easy confidence.

“I figured if it wasn’t the kind of trial we could prepare for, there was no harm in trying to dig up some details. My brother doesn’t know much about the oracle, but he fished around a little with the Brigade and got some information.”

First Garion, now Rowan and his family. The people who are considered Aradis’s most perfect models of strength and honor are the ones most comfortable with bending the rules. It eases some of my guilt about the idea that I’m cheating. It seems like everyone’s willing to blur the lines to get ahead. Not that I care about being the best—I’m just interested in surviving.

“Okay,” I murmur. “So what happens when you go to meet the oracle?”

“They don’t use it every year,” Rowan says. “But if they do, they usually save it for the third trial. It’s a test of character. I mean, a real one, not just proving yourself in a fight. The oracle will look into your soul and decide if you’re worthy.”

“And if you’re not?” I ask, dread nipping at me.

“The oracle will purify you—burning away any darkness in your soul with the Everlight.”

“That sounds…painful,” I say, fighting to keep my stance relaxed when every muscle in my body is desperate to tense up.

Purify. Garion had said “purge,” but I guess it’s the same thing. If the oracle looks into me and finds anything it doesn’t like—like a demon lurking under my skin—then I’m toast. Maybe literally, seeing as it sounds like I’m going to be scorched top to bottom by the power of the ancestors.

“Apparently it’s torture,” Rowan continues. “And not everyone survives the process. But most people come out fine. And I doubt we have anything to worry about,” he straightens. “Anyone half decent will get a pass. It’s people like Keros who should be repenting to their ancestors right now.”

I nod numbly, even as I start calculating how long I should stay here talking to Rowan before I can make my excuses and leave. I need to talk to Syrus. Now.

Because the oracle is going to take one look at me and see him—the dark, demonic presence wrapped around my very soul—and promptly destroy me for it.