Page 202 of Interion

I looked at him incredulously. I tested my barrier, but it had crumbled to pieces on the floor.

“You destroyed my barrier?!” I shouted indignantly. “Why did you do that?”

Zion watched us with amusement, but Serguei frowned and turned his attention back to his cake.

“Because weak barriers must be destroyed so that better ones can emerge,” he replied, shrugging as he rearranged the plates and silverware. I tried to recreate the protection, but as soon as it was up, he knocked it down again without even looking my way. I felt another sharp twinge in my spine.

“And when will it be good enough?”

“When it doesn’t fall. Obviously,” he said, staring at me as if I were a houseplant he was trying to teach to read. “Look at Zion—he’s already achieved that feat.”

“After decades of you tormenting him and destroying his defenses,” I grumbled.

“I believe that when the goal is to teach someone discipline and strength, the most effective method is pain.”

“Love and patience also teach, and they don’t corrupt bonds in the process.”

“But they don't teach as quickly, and I need immediate results. Look at him—it worked.”

I clenched my fists and saw Zion doing the same. The general looked like he'd swallowed hot coals. The thought of Serguei treating Zion like a lab rat made me nervous.

“Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Zion asked, and Serguei smirked.

“No, I don't! I love hearing myself talk because it's the only voice I can truly trust. You never know when something is a thought or something spoken aloud,” he replied, gesturing toward the table. “Dinner is served—come!”

Zion and I rolled our eyes. Sometimes Serguei was exhausting.

I sat down at the table, facing the wall of books on the other side of the room. My eyes lit up at the sight—it was incredible. There was even a rolling ladder on rails to reach the highest shelves, since the wall had to be about five meters tall.

“I didn't know you liked to read,” I said to Serguei.

“They're my escape from reality. When things get too heavy, I turn to them to rest my mind.” He spread the napkin across his lap. “I believe a world without books is like a vast desert.”

“Good thing you think that, because I brought the Book of the Gods to be unlocked,” I said, nodding toward the black volume Zion had placed on the coffee table.

“First, let's celebrate. Then we'll talk about boring subjects.”

Serguei sat at the head of the table—the host's seat. I sat to his right, and Zion settled grumpily to his left. I ended up facing him, which I didn't want, but I promised myself I'd try to keep things civil out of respect for Serguei. A stern-faced butler entered through the side door and began serving us. While he worked, I studied my companions: Zion glared at us sullenly, Serguei looked ready to burst with excitement, and I was trying to balance it all on a tightrope.

We ate in silence. I was starving after spending a whole day crying and hadn't eaten anything since the fight. When I helped myself for the third time, I couldn't help but smile. Dinner was actually pleasant—something I'd thought impossible. Somehow, everyone was behaving, and I felt happy to be at a family dinner for the first time.

“So, how long are you two going to pretend you hate each other?” Serguei asked, taking a sip of wine.

“It was too good to be true,” I muttered to myself.

“I don't see how that's any of your business,” Zion said, setting his silverware on his plate.

“If you're throwing tantrums at my table, then it is my business. Besides, it was really stupid not to tell her.”

Zion stared at Serguei as if he wanted to shove the plate in his mouth to shut him up.

“You can say that again,” I muttered, poking at my food.

“I already apologized,” Zion said sulkily. I took another sip of wine and retorted:

“Ever since they invented apologies, everyone does whatever they want.”

“Including biting people,” he replied sharply.