4. Leah #2
“I know,” she says, squinting as if she’s sizing him up. “It’s something to do with the way he curves his primaries,” she stretches her wings out, tilting the bottom feathers as she tries to emulate him. “It gives him lift at the last moment even as he straightens out.”
The broad, blond ephilium is trudging back toward us now, glaring at the man with chestnut hair. The victor is too busy chatting to one of the other contestants to notice, clapping him on the shoulder as he says something that makes the loser laugh, shaking his head.
“Better luck next time, Keros,” the woman next to me says to the blond, though she doesn’t sound very sympathetic.
“Get plucked, Bianca,” he says, scowling. Then he shifts his gaze to me, eyebrows rising as he notices my lack of wings.
“Ancestors.” A smug grin spreads across his face. “What’s a human doing here?” he asks loud enough to attract the attention of those around us. Several fledglings turn to see me for the first time.
I roll my eyes. “I’m nephilim, actually,” I say, crossing my arms. I’m aware that how I handle this will probably set the tone for how everyone treats me going forward.
If it’s obvious I can’t be shamed for what I am, people won’t bother trying.
“But if I were you, I’d focus less on me and more on not overestimating yourself.
” I look pointedly over to the ephilium who bested him—Rowan, Bianca said his name was—who’s watching this interaction from afar.
“Nephilim?” Keros repeats, looking me up and down with a sneer. “You look completely human to me.” His expression shifts into anger. “Don’t tell me you’re a fledgling?”
He looks around for support from the crowd and soon finds it in a thin woman who looks similarly appalled.
“The academy’s not going to let someone like her take the trials alongside us, is it?” she asks no one in particular.
“Why not?” Bianca puts her hands on her hips, and I feel a surge of gratitude toward her. “Nephilim have taken part in the trials before.”
“Only when they’re at least half ephilium,” says another fledgling, tilting their head at me. “How much ephilium blood have you got, exactly?”
I don’t care about measuring up to these people’s standards; I don’t care how much ephilium blood I have, as long as it’s enough for them to train me.
But I need to be accepted by these people—or at least tolerated.
It sounds like the trials will be hard enough without adding a bunch of enemies to the mix.
“I’m a quarter ephilium,” I say. “It might not seem like much, but my line is strong—it’s enough to ensure I can conjure magic.” I hold out my hand, pleased it stays steady as I ignite a bit of lightning in my hands, letting it crackle between my fingers.
Keros, however, just laughs.
“That little spark won’t be enough to save you.” He leans closer, trying to use his height and bulk to intimidate me. I just stare back up at him, letting him see that I know he’s only picking on me to try and save some face, drawing focus away from his loss.
“I can see into your future, runt,” he says, his voice low with threat. “You’ll never make it through to the end of the trials.”
“That’s enough, Keros,” says a voice sharply, and I look up to see it’s Rowan who’s spoken. He’s frowning like he’s disappointed. It’s a stark contrast to Keros’s angry energy.
“Yeah, Keros, unfortunately having a seraph for an uncle doesn’t stop your predictions from being a load of shit,” says a girl with light brown skin and hazel eyes. “You’ve got about as much foresight as a goldfish.”
“Better than someone who’s got the fighting skills of one, Illidore.” Keros grins nastily. “Tell me, did they start planning your funeral before you left for the academy? Your family knows you won’t survive the first trial, right?”
At the sound of her name, I whip my head around to examine the girl.
She must get her complexion from the other side of the family, but when I look for it, I see something of Garion in her determined set of mouth.
She looks a little younger than me, but then most of the fledglings do.
They’ve just come of age after all, even if it took them more than a century to do it.
“Filippa Illidore?” I ask, and her eyes widen.
“Yes?” she says, more question than answer.
I step forward, holding out my hand. “I’m Leah. Your cousin on your grandfather Garion’s side. He told me to find you and get your help.”
She accepts my hand, but there’s still a glint of suspicion in her eyes. “The general told you to get help…from me?”
“Yes,” I say, conscious of our audience. “My grandmother, also Leah, worked for him many years ago. She was human, a midwife.”
She glances away from me, as if trying to recall something.
“Yes, I think I remember her. It was right before Uncle Delitin was born—there’s a big age gap between my mom and him.
We were around the general’s house a lot then because my mom was worried about Grandmother Thalis’s pregnancy.
” Her eyes flick back to me as she puts the pieces together.
She doesn’t look shocked. More resigned to the truth.
I, however, am shocked. Logically, I can do the math, but it’s one thing to know ephilium have big gaps between having kids and another to think that Filippa was just a child when her uncle was born—that she was forming memories before my mother even took her first breath.
I sense someone approach me on my right and turn sharply to see Rowan standing there. Up close, I can’t help but notice he’s quite handsome, his chestnut hair attractively windswept from the contest, his square jaw softened by the genuine smile he’s giving me.
“You must have some interesting potential to be joining us in the trials, Leah Illidore,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m excited to see what you bring to the fledgling class.”
“You mean, aside from opportunities to pick on a ‘wingless runt’?” I say, quoting Keros’s words with a glare in his direction. The bully’s been quiet since I announced myself as an Illidore.
Rowan laughs, easily and without hesitation. It’s more than my joke warrants, but I appreciate the show of support.
“I bet you’ll surprise any naysayers,” he says before releasing my hand.
After Rowan’s seal of approval, many of the other fledglings deign to introduce themselves. I’m trying to keep names and family lines straight when Filippa comes to my rescue.
“Why don’t we try to find you a room,” she says, coming up behind me.
I nod, eager to get away before I insult someone horrifically by getting families mixed up. Filippa crosses the grass, leading me back toward the covered walkway.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
An expression flits across her face that I can’t name, and she shrugs. “The general said I should help you, so…”
I try not to feel stung. I’m desperate for some backup in this place, but that doesn’t mean she feels the same way. To her, I’m just a responsibility her grandfather dumped on her with no warning.
Before we can get inside, a tall female ephilium in gold armor strides past us into the courtyard.
She’s striking enough that I stop, watching her march up to the group of fledglings.
Her black hair is pulled into four tight braids that coil around the back of her head, exposing her neck, which has a thick, white scar across it.
I try not to stare at it, but it runs most of the way around her neck, and I can’t help but wonder how she survived such an injury.
The original wound must have nearly beheaded her.
“Zinah Jaline,” she barks, scanning the crowd.
The flier from earlier with the white-blonde hair steps forward; she’s gone pale.
“Yes, Captain Hasteed?”
“You were seen attempting to break into Colonel Cavat’s office yesterday afternoon. Do you deny it?”
Zinah tries to hold her head up straight, but I can see the sheen of cold sweat already forming on her neck.
“No, I don’t.”
A ripple of mutters goes through the crowd of fledglings. Several of them edge away from Zinah, as if they might be branded guilty by association.
“Do you have any defense to offer?” Hasteed demands. “I’ll remind you that lying is a coward’s weapon, Fledgling Jaline.”
Zinah swallows. “I was trying to discover the details of this season’s trials, Captain. I hoped if I knew what to expect, I could be better prepared.”
“So you sought to gain an unfair advantage over your peers?” Hasteed says coolly. “You wanted to win by deception, and not by dint of your own courage and strength?”