Page 8 of Demon Touched

I’m not a fool. I have no clue what these fledgling trials are, exactly, but whatever tests the ephilium put their kids through are probably utterly brutal, and in my current state I don’t know if I stand a chance of surviving them. But I can’t face having my freedom snatched from me again. And I’m done with letting people take it from me. I have been since the day my magic burst out of me and killed the ruler of Infernum’s army.

Actually, when I think about that, maybe I have a shot at getting through this after all.

“I’ll take the trials,” I say.

“Excellent,” Seraph Orelle claps his hands together. “Captain Pellery, you will escort her to the academy? And you can probably uncuff her now. She’s going to need those hands very soon.”

Garion leans toward me as Pellery releases my cuffs.

“You made the right choice, Leah,” he says, and his gruff voice sounds pleased. “You have potential, I can sense it, and the trials will be sure to draw that out of you.”

“And if they don’t?” I ask quietly, massaging my wrists once they’re free.

His green eyes harden. “Then you haven’t inherited as much of the Illidore blood as I’d hoped.”

He straightens up, looking down at me from his full, imposing height. “But I’m rarely wrong. Find your cousin at the academy—Filippa. She’s also a fledgling this year. Perhaps you can be of use to each other.”

I nod, getting the distinct impression I’ve ended up exactly where Garion wanted me. My eyes fall on a few drops of silver blood scattered across the floor, left behind by the redeemed ephilium, and I remind myself that taking the trials was my choice too.

I only hope we both know what we’re doing.

“Well, that was a fucking disaster.”

I stare at Captain Pellery as she looks out across the terraces descending from the Seraph Seat. I’ve noticed she usually has impeccable posture, back as straight as an arrow and head held high. But right now, her shoulders are dropped and her chin dipped, her expression radiating frustration.

“Hoping they’d lock me up?” I say, unable to hold back my resentment over the captain ambushing me like that.

“No,” she says, her jaw tight. “I was hoping the seraphs would take one look at you and pronounce you an indisputable friend of Aradis, no questions, no doubts. My gut tells me you’re not a threat, Leah Polaris, and I was pretty sure the seraphim’s sight would tell them the same.”

So I wasn’t imagining her sympathy for me in there. Wow, between her and Garion, I’m building quite a list of halfhearted allies in this place.

“I thought it was Leah Illidore now?” I say cautiously, surprised she hasn’t just automatically started using my new name like the seraphs and Garion.

“It’s what you want it to be,” Pellery says, giving me a look like she sees me clearly. “But I won’t deny that using his name will probably help you in the short term. People will trust you more.” She exhales, clenching her fingers slowly into fists. “I never expected them to put you in the trials,” she mutters, almost to herself. “What was he thinking?”

Something constricts anxiously inside of me.

“So these fledgling trials, they’re…what, exactly?”

She makes a noise like a cross between a scoff and a tut.

“Come,” she says, starting to descend the steps from the Seraph Seat. “I’ll explain on the way. I’m assuming you’d prefer to walk than be flown?”

“Heck yes,” I say, hurrying to follow her.

“We’re going to Atros,” she says, once I’ve caught her up. “Aradis’s main military academy.” She shakes her head again as we turn onto a long, sloping avenue leading to a lower part of the city. “Ancestors, there’s so much you don’t know. Where do I start?”

“How about what the trials even are?” I say, a little desperate. “What will I have to do?”

“I can’t say for sure,” she says. “The details of the trials change every season. But they’re always dangerous. You’ll need to be able to fight.” She looks me over. “Have you ever handled a weapon before?”

“Yes,” I say. In fact, I’ve been singlehandedly trained by a demon lord himself. I tactfully decide not to mention that. “I’m all right with a knife,” I say instead. “And good with a bow and arrow.”

She nods, relieved. “Well, that’s something.”

“What are the trials for anyway?” I press. “Everyone takes them?”

“Yes,” Pellery says. “We start learning how to fight before we come of age, but when we reach adulthood, we become fledglings, and that’s when we take the trials—three in total, spread out over four or five months. Those who show themselves to be the worthiest get to enter the academy and, if they graduate, eventually join the Brigade.”