Page 70 of Demon Touched

This was always the plan. Stall, buy time, and fabricate minor quibbles over bureaucratic details from the Infernum camp, if needed. It’s been working fine…so far. Judging by their faces, though, that’s not the case anymore.

“We wish to discuss the full-scale battle currently raging on the plains of Strata, Lord Syrus,” Seraph Wyvier says, her tone scathing. “You can imagine we are a little confused about this development, given we thought we were in the process of negotiating an end to the aggression between Aradis and Infernum.”

I’m very tempted to make a joke about the seraphim being surprised by anything, considering how much they go on about their second sight, but I masterfully restrain myself.

A new battle was always a possibility, of course. Since I executed Kaliban, battles have been less frequent—Lord Midane is nowhere near as trigger happy—but “less frequent” is not “nonexistent.” Still, I have a contingency for this.

“I seem to remember mentioning that Infernum would do its best not to intensify the conflict during our negotiations unless we felt it was necessary to defend ourselves. War is a messy business, seraphs, and things happen. But I’d imagine in this instance Infernum felt provoked and acted accordingly.”

“You imagine?” Seraph Orelle repeats. “So you don’t know what orders Lord Midane is giving?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Respectfully, I’ve been here the whole time. The last time I received a message from Infernum was two days ago, and I don’t possess your gifts for future telling. If I want to know what happened, I would need to send a message to the other lords.”

From what I’ve seen so far, Seraph Orelle seems the more amiable of the two, which also makes him the most dangerous, because when he goes on the offense, it’s liable to take you by surprise.

It happens now, with a stalk of lightning unfolding across the floor of the chamber, the crack of it reverberating through the air as the burning energy sears the edge of one of my chair legs.

“Let me make myself clear, Lord Syrus. We will not be played for fools. Perhaps you don’t want peace at all and wished to deliberately mislead us, but⁠—”

“Why am I here, if not for peace?” I interrupt, my voice quiet but unyielding as I let the shadow return, rolling from my palms and spreading across the floor. At the same time, I target the fires burning in their braziers. Their flames flare, then flicker out, which has the seraphim instantly stretching their wings, eyes wide. They’ve never seen me on a battlefield, so they have no real idea what I’m capable of—and I’m more than happy to remind them of that.

“I have been an exemplary guest in your realm,” I continue, ignoring the sound of guards drawing weapons behind me. If nothing else, I can trust in their training. They won’t move unless the seraphim give the order. “I have hardly left the quarters you assigned me to except to be paraded around to your friends. I have allowed you to search my lieutenants like they’re common thieves.”

I let my shadows curl a little closer to the seraphim. Not quite close enough to be an actual threat, but enough to put the possibility in their heads.

“I could be sitting at home in my castle, ruling over my domain right now, but instead I’m here. Use that famed second sight of yours to decide if I’m secretly here to attack Aradis, and if the answer is no, then let us move on from this like civilized people.”

Wyvier and Orelle exchange looks. The eyes on their wings blink uncannily. I don’t know exactly how this future-telling stuff works, but surely it’s an inexact art, or else the pale-bloods would have successfully burned Infernum to ash centuries ago. There’s a familiar ripple in their feathers as if from an invisible breeze, and they come to some silent agreement.

“What do you propose, Lord Syrus?” Wyvier asks.

As a sign of goodwill, I withdraw my shadows and let the flames in the braziers return.

“I cannot do anything about the battle already underway, but I will dispatch my lieutenant, Asterim, to Infernum at once to get to the bottom of this.” It has to be Aster. I need Viz here to help with breaking the bond. “I trust that if she travels via Strata, she won’t be attacked by your troops?”

“As long as she stays within city walls, of course,” Seraph Orelle says pointedly.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, reminding myself that as far as we know, the ephilium weren’t directly responsible for the demons we found smote in Pax. They could have hired the sorcerers from Hathwell’s cabal…but we don’t actually have any evidence of that. When this is all over—when Leah’s safe—that’s when I’ll get to the bottom of who really summoned me that night.

“Very well, I will send her immediately,” I say, rising from the chair. I turn swiftly, fast enough that the now twitchy guards straighten up and reach for their weapons again. I just smile at them, aware that in firelight the red of my eyes is gleaming particularly bright.

“You know where this chair goes, don’t you?” I say lightly to the nearest guard, enjoying the mix of confusion and fear on his face. “A pleasure to speak with you, seraphs.” I lift a hand in their direction as I stride out of the chamber.

I know there’s only so long we can keep up this charade. But if I truly must, I can always open up my own set of communications with the lords and stall Infernum’s army for a few weeks. Lord Midane seems eager to be seen as a team player, so I think he’d at least hear me out. I only need to buy enough time to break the bond with Leah. Once that’s done, it should be easy to find an excuse for the talks to break down, and then I’ll leave Aradis for good.

I nod at Viz and Aster when I return to the entrance hall, letting them know all is well as we set off back toward our quarters. I don’t speak to my friends until we’re behind a closed door, without the guards.

“A battle’s broken out on the plains,” I say, turning to Asterim. “Bad news, but you’re going to have to make a trip back to Malice and find out from Quill what triggered it. If it’s our fault⁠—”

“Sy, there’s something you need to know,” she says, and for the first time I notice that her purple skin looks a little gray.

“What?” I ask, not liking her expression at all.

“I was talking to Captain Pellery, and it turns out the seraphim decided that this battle would make a good second trial. They’re sending the fledglings to the plains.”

“To fight?” I ask stupidly, struggling to process it even as I head to my room and reach out for Leah.

When I settle into her mind, the first thing I feel is the tense energy tightening up her muscles, then I sense the weight of metal on her frame.