8. Leah #3
“But anyway,” Rowan says, pulling his face into a weak smile.
“I was worried you were going to be one of the losses today.” He says it honestly, as if it’s obvious, but not something he’s trying to make me feel bad about.
“But you were doing great before the shorewolf caught your scent. That trick with the dermison was really impressive. I thought you were going to bring it down singlehanded for a moment there.”
“Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t he?” Syrus says smoothly. “Do you think he always uses post-battle debriefs to pick up women?”
“Syrus. He’s NOT trying to pick me up.”
“Oh, you saw that did you?” I say out loud, feeling my face flush as I juggle the twin embarrassment of Rowan’s compliment and Syrus’s snarky commentary.
Before Rowan can answer, Keros shoves past us, shoulder checking me on the way.
“I saw it,” he says over his shoulder. “It was embarrassing. The trial was meant to test strength. Not who’s best at landing ass-first in the dirt or hiding under a rock until the battle’s over.”
“Go pluck yourself, Keros,” I say. “I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t dive-bombed me before I could take the dermison out. What was that about? Afraid a wingless nephilim was going to do better than you?”
Keros gives me a hateful look. “You just wait, runt. I’m going to enjoy seeing your dirty red blood splashed across the floor one of these days.”
“Only lesser warriors indulge in empty threats, Keros,” Rowan say sternly.
“Who said anything about empty?” Keros throws back before taking flight, blasting us both with a gust of air from his wings.
“I really hope he doesn’t get selected,” Rowan sighs, watching Keros rise higher in the air. “He’ll be a nightmare to train with when we’re cadets. But his bloodline is very strong, what with his uncle being one of the Celadis seraphim. I fear it might be unavoidable.”
I notice the way he talks about being chosen for the Brigade like it’s a given. But with his talent, I suppose that’s a reasonable expectation. He’s not being boastful, just matter-of-fact.
Rowan rolls his shoulders and looks back up to the sky. “Well, I just wanted to check on folks before I headed back to the academy.” He opens his wings. “I’ll see you there. Unless…do you want a lift?”
I consider my aching body and the long walk back to my room. Being carried might be an indignity I’m willing to accept right now. But then the presence in my mind makes a sound like an animal raising its hackles. Until I’ve fixed my little demon problem, it’s safer to keep my distance from people.
“Thanks,” I say. “But I can walk.”
Rowan nods. From the way he smiles, I get the impression that he respects me refusing to lean on anyone else for support. If only he knew.
Once Rowan’s gone, I let myself fall to the back of the group, away from prying eyes. What I can’t escape, however, is him. Syrus allows me a few moments of silence before he decides it’s safe enough to start interrogating me again.
“And what, pray tell, is soldier boy’s name?”
“If it wasn’t for Rowan, I wouldn’t have survived five minutes in that arena,” I say defensively. “He’s one of the few people in this place—”
I stop myself from explaining how Rowan helped me master the basics of directing my lightning when the instructors have all but ignored me.
I don’t want Syrus to know how much hostility I’ve encountered in Aradis.
I don’t want to give him more fuel for—what?
—the argument we’re going to have about why I left?
No. We’re not going to argue about it. Because there’s no discussion to be had. Not when Syrus could still try to march me back to Infernum at any moment. Discussion is too much of an invitation. Instead, I should be building my walls back up right now, protecting myself against him.
“So what is this about not becoming a weapon for the ephilium?” Syrus prompts. “You get through these trials and what? They’ll name a feast day in your honor? You’ll suddenly transform into someone who doesn’t blanch at the idea of killing someone anymore?”
My blood heats with outrage. He knows why I’ve hesitated to kill in the past, and for him to throw that back in my face is low.
“If I get through the trials, they won’t throw me in prison and torture me to find out how I might be connected to the demons,” I offer the truth coldly. “So thank you for your help, but you can go now.”
I don’t expect it to come to anything. I’m sure I’ll have to wrestle with him and fight tooth and nail to force him back out of my mind. But without so much as a push, I feel him start to leave.
“We’ll talk again soon, Leah.” He says my name like a caress and is gone before I can tell him that absolutely won’t be happening.
It’s infuriating, and I start slamming my walls back up one by one, taking satisfaction in locking my mind up tight behind a mental fortress.
Except…something’s different. Those walls don’t feel as thick or sturdy as they did before.
It’s as if there’s a crack running through the foundations, permanently weakening my defenses.
It occurs to me that during those periods where Syrus was sitting quietly in my mind, he might have been making the most of my distraction.
Shit. What have I unleashed?
Whatever Syrus did when I let him back in, he’s ensured that shutting him out will be much harder than before.