14. Leah #3
Filippa laughs. “We have the missionary position in Aradis, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, I wasn’t before—but now I’m curious,” I say.
“I can think of at least one person here who might be interested in showing you how that works,” Filippa says, looking over to where Rowan is speaking with some cadets on the other side of the dining hall.
I bite my lip then shake my head a little before taking another gulp of coffee.
“Come on,” Filippa says, a touch impatient. She doesn’t get why I’m being coy about this. “You must’ve noticed he’s obsessed with you. Half the female fledglings and a fair portion of the male ones are very put out about it.”
“Obsessed with our family more like,” I say. “I think he’d marry the general if he could.”
Filippa shrugs. “Well obviously, but most people would be flattered by that. It’s a compliment to you that he thinks your family is a good one—it says a lot about how he sees you too.”
We’re both not saying the obvious thing out loud, about how it’s Filippa’s family much more than mine, and yet Rowan’s focused his attentions solely on me. I don’t get the sense Filippa particularly wants Rowan’s attention, but it’s still awkward.
“My stepmother was like that,” I say, trying to nudge the conversation in a slightly different direction.
“Always thinking about status and people’s background.
But there are plenty of people outside of Aradis who don’t care about any of that.
They just like you for you and not where you come from. ”
Sometimes they like you despite where you come from. Because Syrus getting involved with a human was complicated enough, but when it turned out I was nephilim…well, he was still willing to break all the rules for me, wasn’t he? It just wasn’t enough. I needed more.
“It really doesn’t matter to everyone?” Filippa asks, her eyes widening a little.
“Not even to most people,” I say. “So it’s hard for me to feel good about Rowan only being interested in me for my last name.”
“That’s obviously not the only reason,” Filippa says with a little eye roll and a hand wave at my face.
“And he’s also not hard on the eyes. But maybe you should ignore me.
I don’t know why I’m encouraging you to pair off with the nest’s golden boy and fully assimilate.
I’m probably just trying to live vicariously through you, except I actually prefer you as a black sheep like me. ”
“Don’t worry, Filippa, I’ll always be a freak,” I wink at her.
She laughs. “That’s a relief. Oh, and to answer your question, wings are uncomfortable to lie on when they’re still coming in, but once they’re grown, you’ll be able to tuck them back, and then…I don’t know…they just fit under you. Don’t worry. It kind of figures itself out.”
But when she goes back to her breakfast, I do worry, chewing on my lip and feeling guilty about how much attention Rowan’s been paying me. Attention I can’t reciprocate, because I’m too hung up on a demon lord and this thing we both do and don’t have.
Whatever it is, I’m left trying to clear up the shattered pieces in the messy aftermath, and there’s no space for a boyfriend while I’m doing that.
I can’t consider getting too close to anyone when I have demon magic running through my veins and Cyrax on my tongue.
Even when he’s not here, Syrus’s fingerprints are all over me.
And the evidence of his hold on me could be dangerously detectable if I slip up or someone looks too closely.
Which means I shouldn’t keep letting Rowan think he has a chance, even if it means losing his help with the trials.
It’s not fair to him and not safe for me.
I finish my food about the same time as Rowan goes to leave the dining hall, so I hurry to catch up with him in a corridor not far from the nest.
“Rowan,” I call. When he turns to see me, his smile is warm and genuine, making my gut twist with guilt again.
“Hey,” he says. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Yeah? Me too,” I say. I fall into step beside him and then, because it’s better if I get this over with, I jump right in.
“Listen, it’s been so great, the way you’ve welcomed me to the academy and helped me with training. You’ve been a good friend, and I honestly really appreciate it, but…I get the sense that maybe…”
“Maybe I think we could be more than friends?” he finishes, not sounding at all self-conscious.
“Yes,” I say, relieved that he found the words for me.
He tilts his head, looking me over with an easy smile. “Well, can’t we?”
I exhale, wondering how to handle this. Maybe it would have been smarter to come up with a plan for what to say instead of jumping right in…but I can hardly back out now. “I’m not sure we can.”
He considers this.
“There was someone else, wasn’t there?” he says after a beat, making me gape.
“What? How did you—” I’m so flustered at being read so easily that I barely catch myself before saying way more than I should. “I mean, what makes you say that?”
He gives a half shrug. “Just a guess. You seem distracted sometimes, like there’s more weighing on you than just the trials.”
“Just the trials,” I repeat. They’re not exactly a small thing—although to someone like Rowan, who’s almost guaranteed to do well, perhaps they are.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Rowan says, intrigued. “There was someone back in Strata, but you had to leave them to come here, and you’re still hung up on them.”
“I…uh…” My shoulders drop. It’s the easiest explanation, because it’s mostly true. “Yeah, more or less,” I say.
Rowan nods. “That’s got to be tough. But listen, you made the right choice. Whoever that person was, they’re in your past now, and you’re where you’re meant to be.”
“You think?” I ask weakly.
“Are you kidding? You just got here. You should be miles behind everyone. But look how well you’re doing: holding your own in the first trial and acing that lesson on runic magic.”
I manage to keep my face neutral, but my stomach drops a little.
Because I didn’t succeed in either of those things on my own.
Without Syrus, I’d never be able to read Cyrax, and I would’ve ended up a tasty wolf treat.
I want to believe I belong here, but I can’t help feeling like I cheated my way into Rowan’s respect.
“You can have a good life in Aradis,” Rowan continues, ducking a little to meet my gaze. “You just have to give your all to it, and maybe stop keeping one foot in the past.”
But Syrus isn’t only in my past. He’s haunting my present, climbing into my head every night and undoing any progress I might’ve made. Undoing me.
“Thanks,” I say. “You’re probably right. I just think maybe I need a little more time.”
I mostly say it to buy myself some breathing room, but Rowan smiles like this is a win.
“Of course. We should be focusing on the trials right now anyway—on proving ourselves. You know, I have a feeling both of us are going to make an impression with the Brigade and the seraphim. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What is it?”
We’ve reached the grassy field beside the nest, and now he checks around us before pulling me into the gazebo and lowering his voice.
“The tip you gave me about the oracle. It turns out it was good.”
“Yeah?” I say. “How do you know?”
A flicker of a grimace crosses Rowan’s face before he shifts his expression back to its usual easy confidence.
“I figured if it wasn’t the kind of trial we could prepare for, there was no harm in trying to dig up some details. My brother doesn’t know much about the oracle, but he fished around a little with the Brigade and got some information.”
First Garion, now Rowan and his family. The people who are considered Aradis’s most perfect models of strength and honor are the ones most comfortable with bending the rules.
It eases some of my guilt about the idea that I’m cheating.
It seems like everyone’s willing to blur the lines to get ahead.
Not that I care about being the best—I’m just interested in surviving.
“Okay,” I murmur. “So what happens when you go to meet the oracle?”
“They don’t use it every year,” Rowan says. “But if they do, they usually save it for the third trial. It’s a test of character. I mean, a real one, not just proving yourself in a fight. The oracle will look into your soul and decide if you’re worthy.”
“And if you’re not?” I ask, dread nipping at me.
“The oracle will purify you—burning away any darkness in your soul with the Everlight.”
“That sounds…painful,” I say, fighting to keep my stance relaxed when every muscle in my body is desperate to tense up.
Purify. Garion had said “purge,” but I guess it’s the same thing. If the oracle looks into me and finds anything it doesn’t like—like a demon lurking under my skin—then I’m toast. Maybe literally, seeing as it sounds like I’m going to be scorched top to bottom by the power of the ancestors.
“Apparently it’s torture,” Rowan continues. “And not everyone survives the process. But most people come out fine. And I doubt we have anything to worry about,” he straightens. “Anyone half decent will get a pass. It’s people like Keros who should be repenting to their ancestors right now.”
I nod numbly, even as I start calculating how long I should stay here talking to Rowan before I can make my excuses and leave. I need to talk to Syrus. Now.
Because the oracle is going to take one look at me and see him—the dark, demonic presence wrapped around my very soul—and promptly destroy me for it.