Page 91 of Demon Touched

I’d tried to read between the lines to see if Hodges resented the responsibility I’ve dumped on him, but any signs that he’s regretting doing me this favor were surprisingly absent. Maybe Filippa is healed enough to be mostly taking care of herself. It’s good news—it means Filippa might be coming back of her own accord soon, and in the meantime, I don’t have to try to work out a way to get back to Strata to see her.

Now, seated in the rooms of the Infernum delegation, my heart swells even more. I’d not been entirely sure what kind of reaction I’d get from Filippa’s mother. She wasn’t exactly warm the one time I met her. So I deliberately downplayed my role in getting Filippa off the battlefield, in case she was the sort who’d hold it against Filippa for not being able to save herself. But her response tells me I didn’t need to worry about that, and maybe she’s guessed what I did anyway.

It’s a relief, honestly. The first bit of familial approval I’ve gotten that isn’t Garion bragging about me bringing the Illidore bloodline glory—and him status points—with my trial performance. This feels real, genuine, like I’ve built a bridge into a deeper connection with my family. Ironic, though, that it would happen on a day when I’m about to cut a set of ties I once couldn’t imagine severing.

I fold the letter up and put it on the table.

“Good news?” Syrus asks, watching my face carefully. He’s seated across the table from me, and it feels weirdly domestic.

“Yes. My aunt knows about Filippa. I told her she probably shouldn’t send any message directly to Strata yet—not until Filippa thinks it won’t complicate things, but she’s pleased with the news.”

I don’t know why I’m overexplaining. Maybe because I don’t know what else to say to Syrus. I’m not sure I ever really thought we’d get here, and now, as Viz double checks his list of runes, the tightness in my stomach betrays my nerves.

“Aster will definitely be back by the time we’re finished, right?” I ask. The little purple demon just left to take a rift to Infernum via Strata, complaining all the way.

“Yes, she shouldn’t be more than hour,” Syrus says. “The seraphim want to send a new set of conditions to the lords, and we have to at least make a show of taking them to Infernum.”

“How are you keeping from the seraphim that they’re not talking to the lords at all?”

He shrugs. “It’s surprisingly easy. Everything is done through messages, and we just draw out any replies with long-winded logistical discussions that won’t really get us anywhere. To be honest, just pretending to write like Liege Damein is enough to keep the negotiations at a crawl, given the way Damein uses riddles.”

I nod, though I’m too on edge to absorb what he’s telling me. “Hopefully Aster doesn’t get waylaid in Strata,” I say. “Or I’m stuck here.”

“She won’t,” he says, confident, and it soothes me more than it should. “Will you visit your sister, once the trials are over?” he asks then, taking his own stab at shifting the conversation. “The ephilium will trust you then, yes?”

I keep my brows from rising in surprise. He hasn’t asked me about my future life in Aradis before.

“That’s what the seraphim said,” I reply. “And I would love to see Evie again. I left a letter for Hodges to take to her, telling her I’m okay, but I know she’ll still worry. Not to mention, she’ll be due soon.”

He dips his chin. “Ah yes, I’d forgotten you’re going to be an aunt. You’ll have to be sure to teach them all the important things—like how to break into places and swear like a sailor.”

The words are casual, fond, but he’s watching carefully as I smile, and I flush at my own reaction.

I’d want you to spend forever murmuring stupid jokes into my mind, if things had been different.

My thought is clear and inescapable. Something I have to fight to tuck back away or risk it spilling out of me.

“All right,” Viz says, clapping his hands together and gesturing to Syrus and me. Something flickers across Syrus’s face, then it’s buried again. He nods a little stiffly, but his eyes are bright when he looks at me.

“Ready when you are, vulture,” he says.

Again, I can’t fight the stupid smile that spreads across my face, even if the feeling that comes with it is bittersweet. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

Viz looks between us and shakes his head. “You two are strange.”

“Where do you need us?” I ask Viz, ignoring his comment.

“Here’s fine. Better you stay away from the rugs; this could get a little messy,” he says as he pulls a knife from a bag.

“Whoa,” I say, eyeing the sharp edge.

“Don’t worry. It’s for Syrus.”

I straighten up. “What? What are you going to do to him?” I demand. I didn’t realize this was going to involve hurting him.

“Relax,” Viz says with an eye roll. “I’ll keep the cut as small as we can. But we need his blood for the runes.”

Syrus thumbs one of the scars across his cheek. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”