10. Leah
Leah
Idon’t have much time to puzzle over Syrus’s sudden departure, because soon I’ve arrived where my grandfather’s waiting for me.
Efram leaves me in the gardens at the perimeter of the academy grounds.
They’re right on the edge of this tier of the city, the terraces and neat shrubs bordering a steep drop where the city falls away, providing an impressive view of Luminis’s lower levels.
“General Garion,” I say, greeting the tall, striking figure standing on a terrace above me. Maybe it’s a military thing, always naturally gravitating to the highest ground. I have to climb up several steps to reach him.
When I reach the top, I look into his serious face. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if he was a more cuddly kind of grandfather, internally laughing at myself when I imagine calling him Gramps.
That amusement fades fast when he turns fully toward me, the light catching on the many medals pinned to the front of his jacket.
“I was disappointed not to see you after the trial, Leah,” he says, with all the warmth of a soldier reprimanding a subordinate.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you expected me,” I lie. I don’t particularly like having to call him sir—Garion hasn’t done anything to earn my deference—but my gut tells me that anything less would offend the general, and I don’t want to piss off one of my few allies in Aradis.
“I was also disappointed to learn that Filippa hasn’t been teaching you what she should about our family line,” he continues, lifting his chin to look over my head, across the gardens.
“I told her to correct that as soon as possible. It’s not appropriate that an Illidore should be representing our family without knowledge of our ancestors and bloodline. ”
“We haven’t had much time to discuss any of that,” I say, hoping to redeem my cousin in his eyes. “I have a lot of catching up to do, and Filippa’s help has been focused on ensuring I survive the trials.”
He makes a skeptical huff. “Of course, it makes sense to prioritize your combat skills given the situation, but I doubt Filippa has been much help in that department either. She inherited too much of her father’s line,” he says, as if her father’s line was a dead insect he’s just found floating in his drink.
I want to defend Filippa, to point out that she’s smart and funny and loyal and kind—and that being good at flying and fighting is hardly everything, but I also know there’s no point.
From what I’ve seen and heard of the general, he clutches tightly to traditional ephilium values.
Which means those things are probably everything to Garion, and annoying him by arguing right now would probably just create more trouble for me and my cousin.
So I bite my tongue and, in my silence, feel a prickle up the back of my neck as Syrus slips into my mind again.
The Lord of Malice really deserves a prize for terrible timing.
I’m tempted to tell him that, but I need to stay focused on Garion and making sure he doesn’t notice any signs of a demon possession in action. As he watches me with the same green eyes as my mother—as me—I know he’d be quick to spot even a flicker of something being off.
“If Filippa had taught you the first thing about our family, you would know that though her mother raised her in Luminis with her father,” —that same disdain in his tone again— “the Illidores actually hail from Aphelion.”
I nod to show I’m following. Really, the only thing I know about Aphelion, Aradis’s second-largest city, is that Rowan’s family is from there, and that it was named after the fabled son of the Everlight Syrus once told me a story about.
Speaking of which, Syrus is staying wonderfully quiet, though I can sense that same, strange tension still wrapped around his presence.
I can feel him watching Garion out of my eyes, studying him hard.
“Are you visiting Luminis to watch the trials, then?” I ask, trying to avoid any lulls in the conversation which might invite Garion’s scrutiny.
“In part,” Garion says. “But mostly I came on Aphelion’s behalf.
Our region requires better representation here.
” He makes a grumble at the back of his throat, seeming frustrated.
“I would not have to explain myself if you hadn’t been raised as an ignorant human, but there’s a lot you don’t understand. ”
I cross my arms, trying to hold back some of my own irritation at his insult. “I’m a fast learner,” I say, pleased I manage to keep my voice calm and cool. “So why don’t you just try to stick to the basics?”
“You are a fast learner,” he agrees matter-of-factly. “It’s why you’re not dead yet. But we will get to that later. Very well. Firstly, you should know that the three cities of Aradis and their surrounding regions are meant to share equal power.”
“I thought Luminis was the capital?” I ask.
His heavy brow furrows, displeased. “It was never meant to be. But our stories say Luminis was the location of the birth of the Everlight, and this makes it significant in people’s eyes.
As a result, it’s become our biggest city, and its influence has grown.
Now Aphelion and Celadis must bend the knee to Luminis in most matters. ”
“But each region still has two seraphim, right?” I ask.
“Yes, but Aphelion’s seraphim—Ikcros and Saladine—accept the existing hierarchy,” Garion says, drawing himself up.
“They’re blind to the truth that things need to change.
Their deference to Luminis is hurting Aphelion.
The region is in trouble, and so far, Seraphs Orelle and Wyvier have refused to take it seriously. I’m here to change that.”
“In trouble?” I repeat. “What kind?”
“There’s a blight. A sickness we don’t understand.
It started years ago and hit the land first,” Garion explains.
“Our crops started dying, plants crumbling into blackened ash as if they’d been scorched by the sun.
Now it’s spreading to people. They’re developing sores like they’ve been burned, unable to explain what caused them. ”
“That’s terrible,” I say. This must be what Rowan was talking about with the cadets a few weeks ago. “Does anyone have any ideas how to stop it?”
“Not yet. Orelle and Wyvier have been slow to act.” He stares out across the empty gardens, checking, I think, that we won’t be overheard.
“They say they are looking into it, but it’s clear they’re unmotivated to address a problem that’s only occurring in Aphelion.
It should be up to our seraphim to demand action, but they will bury their heads in the sand until Luminis tells them to come up for air.
” He fixes his gaze on me again. “I am doing what I can to build support for our plight. And you are going to help.”
I blink. “Me? How?”
He straightens, his green eyes sweeping over me, calculating. “Having a descendant secure a distinguished place in the fledgling trials will strengthen my position in Luminis. It will bring glory to our bloodline and help attract sympathizers to our cause.”
I want to laugh, but I have the sense to realize that would be a very bad idea.
Still, it seems ridiculous to think that a grandchild doing well in a standard test should have any bearing on serious matters of state.
And yet…how many times do I have to be beaten over the head with the fact that glory and family name is everything to these people?
If I do well in the trials, then I’m a person of honor and strength, which must mean the Illidore line is honorable and strong, which makes Garion worth listening to.
It’s a messed-up system, but it’s also one with real consequences.
“Is this why you suggested the seraphim enter me in the trials?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes.” He doesn’t sound the tiniest bit apologetic.
“I knew I had no hope of glory in Filippa—the most I can pray for is she won’t embarrass me enough to sabotage all my efforts.
But I had an instinct about you, despite your human heritage, and it was proven correct in the first trial.
You showed your bravery and boldness with the dermison.
I believe you can do a lot for the Illidores in these trials.
” His eyes sweep over my wingless shoulders. “Even as a nephilim.”
It suddenly hits me that Garion just trusted me with a secret—and I’ve already betrayed Aradis.
Sure, the blight might be a topic of open discussion among the ephilium, but there’s not even been a whisper of it in Strata that I’ve heard, even though he said it’s been a problem for years. The ephilium have to guard their weaknesses carefully, because Infernum is still at war with Aradis.
And I have Syrus, a lord of Infernum, listening in to this whole conversation.
Maybe I should’ve tried to block him out earlier, but it’s gotten so hard to since I let him back in.
My mental walls are shaky, and it requires too much focus.
All of which means I’ve knowingly handed intelligence over to him.
I am exactly what the ephilium feared—a demon spy.
The idea makes me queasy. Not the bond itself, but the guilt that comes with it.
“I will work hard to do well in the trials, sir,” I say. I’m trying to say the right things to avoid tipping Garion off, but my mind is still stuck on that day at the Seraph Seat when they accused me of having demon loyalties.
“Although it’s tricky when I know so little about what to expect.” I lick my lips, knowing my next question is a risk. “You said that the trials will purge me in some way?”
His eyes narrow, and my pulse jumps. So much for not arousing his suspicions.
“The seraphim were worried about your loyalties, so I pointed out that the trials would purge you of links to Infernum, if you had them.” His gaze sharpens more, and I try not to squirm like a fish caught on a hook. “Which you don’t.”