Page 58 of Demon Touched

“It’s nice to meet you, Ghola,” I say, wondering how I can make myself seem less of a threat to her and her offspring. “Filippa has been a great help to me as I try to acclimate to Aradis,” I say. “I’m very grateful.”

“She was only doing what was expected of her, I’m sure,” Ghola says, taking a long sip of wine. I can’t tell who it’s a dig at: me or Garion or Filippa. Maybe all of us. My cousin, meanwhile, stays silent, hovering miserably at the edge of the group.

“And the first trial too,” I add, glancing in her direction in a way I hope is encouraging. “I probably wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t helped me prepare.”

“Nonsense,” Garion says. “What you showed in the Eyrie was natural talent, and you can’t teach that.”

I catch a flash of pain and anger in Filippa’s eyes, but then I’m distracted by Garion as he introduces the rest of the group. They’re mostly members of various Aphelion bloodlines, with the occasional Luminis family thrown in.

“And of course, you know the Gradis clan,” Garion says, gesturing to a man who can only be Rowan’s older brother. There’s a strong family resemblance. He’s a bit taller than his younger sibling and bedecked mostly in golden armor, like he’s ready to head to a battle at any moment. It’s intense, even by ephilium standards.

“Are you Roryn?” I ask. The brunette breaks into a smile that instantly makes him look more approachable, taking my hand. Garion’s eyes gleam with approval too. He’s pleased his little mascot in the trials is playing this ridiculous game of family trees.

“I am.” Roryn’s eyes flicker to my wings, and he raises his eyebrows. “I can see why you’ve caught my brother’s eye. Very striking.”

I feel my cheeks heat and am glad Rowan has been pulled into some other conversation elsewhere. I’m even gladder when the discussion topic pivots away from me and moves on to politics, including the arrival of the demons, though I can’t say I absorb much of what is said. I’m too aware of him—Syrus—and how close he is. I realize I’m able to pinpoint almost exactly where he is without looking—I don’t know if it’s the bond or just an unhealthy obsession—but I can sense him, and that means I don’t get a moment to forget the strange emotion blooming in my chest.

It’s more serious than excitement, deeper than craving him. Bewilderingly, I’m on the edge of tears, thinking of him coming all this way to me. Whole realms separated us, and now he’s in the same room. Is it really just because I needed him?

Even with this truce clause Syrus has invoked, coming to Aradis is hugely risky. I have a million questions, but at least it’s a relief to get one answer—now I know why he hasn’t spoken to me since the fall. He was busy traveling to Aradis, whatever that entailed, and then probably had to put all his energy into convincing the ephilium not to murder him on sight.

“The demons are either playing a very bold or very stupid game,” Garion says, echoing my thoughts. “But it has Luminis’s seraphs on the back foot, which may work in our favor.”

“Father,” Ghola says, a touch of anxious warning in her tone which Garion waves away.

I briefly wonder what he means. Does he think the seraphim might be more willing to listen to him about the blight if they need Aradis’s backing against Infernum? I don’t have the space in my brain to break it down, because just then a prickle of sensation runs up my neck.

I fight not to lean into it, it’s so welcome.

“Come find me.”

Just the idea of him being in touching distance again sends a thrill of anticipation through me. It would be pathetic, if it wasn’t so fucking compelling.

“How? The ephilium will be watching your every move.”

“Yes, but they respect my need to speak with my advisors in private from time to time. There’s a side chamber between the western columns of the atrium. Cut around the southern side and stop beside the pillar with the crest on it. I have to remain in the sightline of my guards, but they won’t be able to see you.”

It seems pointlessly risky when I could just go back to my room and have a whole conversation with him without having to worry about being seen or overheard with him.

But I go anyway, making an excuse about freshening up to Garion and the others. The hold Syrus has on me doesn’t allow me to do anything else.

He’s chosen the meeting spot well. As I reach the pillar in question, I see him standing to one side of it, his back against the stone. We’re feet apart, but anyone looking would just see Syrus standing opposite Viz, head bent as if the pair of them are deep in conversation. I stare at Syrus’s profile, able to drink it in now no one’s watching, my eyes hungrily taking in the smooth sweep of his jaw and the way his hair curls a little at the nape of his neck.

This close, I crave him even more than before. I don’t know how I stood the weeks of separation up to now. I itch to run my fingers through his hair, to kiss my way along that jaw. It’s not right or sensible or safe, but I can’t pretend I don’t want what I want.

I exhale, frustrated I can’t even look him in the eyes as we talk. But I have too many questions to wait for a better opportunity.

“Are you⁠—”

“Shhh,” he hushes me. The shushing tickles the inside of my mind. “Speak to me in your head only. It’ll help keep up the illusion that I’m just talking to Viz.”

My eyes briefly meet the pale-faced demon’s. He gives me a small smile and a nod. He looks bemused, I think. Probably wondering, like me, how in the world we all got into this mess. Which brings me to my point. I prod at the presence in my mind, watching Syrus’s expression twitch in reaction.

“Are you insane?” I begin. “What are you doing here?”

Syrus

There are a hundred ways I could answer her question. The first one that comes to mind isn’t an option: