Page 84 of Demon Touched

“What?”

“It was Filippa who saved the western flank,” I say, my voice hard as steel. “She picked up on what the demons were up to. Because she’s smart and observant. She can spot a pattern a mile off and is great with strategy too. Which you’d realize if you’d gotten to know her.”

His eyes narrow.

“Might I remind you, Leah, that you have been in Aradis for barely the blink of an eye. Do not be so arrogant as to claim you know this family better than I do.” He sighs, as if putting up with me is too much of a trial to bear. “The battle was a hard one yesterday, so I understand you’re emotional, but you must get yourself under control.”

I swallow down the urge to scoff, because if he understood exactly how controlled I’m being right now, he’d hand over one of his shiny medals.

“Fine,” I say, grinding the word out between my teeth, because it’s better than the stream of curses I want to hurl at him right now.

“And if anyone asks about the western flank, you stick to what General Sawler told me about your contribution. It’s inappropriate to contradict a superior.”

Then he opens the door and strides out, leaving me with my rage.

The emotion simmers inside me as I stand there, motionless, afraid that moving would make it all boil over. I know I need to go back out there to play Garion’s games. He’s the one who got me into the trials, who gave me Swiftwing. I doubt I’d have survived yesterday without the blade helping me, and he could take it away at any moment.

But I’m still too tense, locked in my anger like it’s a vise. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I reach out and brush against another consciousness across the void.

“Leah?” Syrus slides into my mind, a note of concern in his voice. “Is everything all right? Where are you?”

“At some stupid political ass-kissing dinner Garion made me come to.”

I sense him shifting beneath my skin, feeling his way through my body.

“Something has made you very angry, I can feel it. Tell me.”

And his soft but firm demand unspools it all from inside me. I finally tell him what I was too exhausted and wrung out to tell him last night—about finding Filippa on the plains, leaving her in Strata with Hodges, about Garion not giving a single flying fuck that his granddaughter never came back.

“And now I have to go back out there and pretend to be the proud little soldier, and let him show me off to all his friends, when all I want to do is kick him in the throat.”

I finish, waiting for him to point out that I’m only suffering from the consequences of my own choices. I decided to come to Aradis and tie myself to the ephilium—do I really get to complain about them now?

Instead, he’s silent for a moment, then he runs a gentle caress across my mind.

“I know a little something about being chosen by a powerful man who expected me to be his pawn,” he says.

Right. Of course. He knows this feeling from when Ajax trapped Syrus into being his heir.

“It’s hard,” Syrus continues. “But as long as you have to endure it, just remember: he doesn’t own you. You’re still your own person, and you’re only pretending to play by his rules while it serves you. The moment it doesn’t, he’ll realize exactly how wrong he was to believe he controlled you.”

I exhale, closing my eyes briefly, letting the reassurance wash over me.

“Thank you. That helps,” I say, opening my eyes again.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “If that will help too.”

I waver, because it would help, but once again, it’s not fair, asking him to do this for me. Keeping me from dying is one thing, but this emotional support—kind words and sympathetic advice—shouldn’t come from someone you’re not supposed to be involved with.

“You’re not doing anything important?” I ask pathetically, because I’m too weak to say no.

“Only if you think watching Viz read and waiting for Aster to come back from flirting with the guards constitutes pressing business,” he says wryly. “Let me stay. Being in your head is far less boring.”

I smile at the teasing compliment. It’s easier to bear than tenderness.

“All right. But just remember, don’t talk so much that I get distracted. I don’t want to end up looking like a crazy person listening to voices in her head.”

“So you find me distracting?” he purrs, intrigued.