Page 210 of Interion

“We never know, but I think an 'I'm sorry, Zion. I shouldn't have bitten you or thrown knives at you' would be a good start.”

“An 'I'm sorry, Kyller. I should have told you about Kaori' would help too.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them, because the light in his eyes faded until almost nothing remained.

“I must have apologized a thousand times yesterday,” Zion said, shaking his head. Then he fell quiet, letting the words sink in. “I'm right here, Kyller. I'm standing here, waiting for you to take one step toward me.”

He stared at me with a disconcerting intensity, making my pulse throb in response. He waited, but I couldn't move from where I stood. Seconds passed, each one dragging like agony with every tick of the clock, and I still clung to my hurt—but when I examined it, it didn't make sense anymore. Still, I didn't move.

Then Zion turned and climbed the stairs without another word. With each step, I felt the fracture widen, yet I couldn't get the apology out. The words stuck in my throat, and my wounded pride wouldn't let them go. When he slammed the door upstairs, I knew I had lost the moment—perhaps I had lost more than that—but the words...

They wouldn't come out.

Chapter 52

I woke to a sharp bite on my calf. Startled, I sat up and pulled my knee to my chest. With my heart pounding, I searched for the danger and soon spotted Kiara at the foot of the bed, giving me a worried look.

“You bit me?” I asked, my hand trembling against my chest.

She snorted in agreement and climbed back onto the bed, snuggling against me and resting her head on my leg. All around me, the pillows and blankets were on the floor. An uneasy feeling had settled over me—my throat was tight and painful, and there was a taste of blood in my mouth.

“Was I dreaming and scaring you?” I asked Kiara, stroking her ears. She huffed again.

“I’m sorry, and thank you for waking me up.”

I thought about the dream, but this time I couldn’t remember anything about it. Still, something told me it was related to the wyverns I’d read about in the book. Sighing, I raised my eyes to the window. Outside, a light rain was falling, and silvery light filtered through the glass. It was a dreary day that matched my mood.

Δ

When I sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast, it was 7 a.m., and I felt like an old lady for being up so early on a Sunday.

I heard a door open upstairs and tried not to look in that direction, but Zion’s presence had a magnetism that bordered on madness—like a planet with its own gravity, and I could only orbit toward him, unable to escape his pull. When my gaze landed on him, I was dumbstruck to see him coming down the stairs in a black suit. He looked uncomfortable as he adjusted his tie, his hair loose but neatly styled.

When he saw me in the kitchen, he frowned as if he hadn’t expected to find me there, but quickly looked away and finished coming down the stairs. He stopped in front of the kitchen mirror and kept trying to fix his tie. I wanted to ask where he was going, dressed so nicely, but the air between us was heavy and I didn’t want to pry. I nibbled on my apple and sipped my juice.

Zion looked gorgeous. The suit fit perfectly on his broad shoulders and accentuated his muscular arms. The scent of fresh aftershave clung to him, so pleasant I couldn’t look away. I stared at him until he met my gaze, then I was forced to look away, caught off guard by his intensity.

“Today is the soldiers’ funeral,” he explained, though I hadn’t asked. I froze. The funeral for his men—the men he had shed tears for.

“Do you...” I cleared my throat. “Want me to go with you?”

Normally, a wife would accompany her husband at times like these, but he hadn’t asked and I didn’t know if I should go. Especially since I wasn’t exactly his wife, and no one expected me to be there. He studied my face for a long moment, his expression tired as he fastened his cufflinks.

“You don’t have to,” he replied, pinning on the insignia that marked his rank as general. Then, without a goodbye, he was gone.

I immediately stood up and started pacing. I looked at the chipped mark on the living room door. That knife had been aimed at his right thigh. What had I done to us?

I needed to fix this mess. Zion was right to be hurt by the bite, and I was right to be upset by the omission. But he had apologized and even swallowed his pride by going to Serguei’s birthday and behaving himself. And me? I just sat on my throne of pride like some wicked queen. Now I was alone on it, clinging to a grudge that made less and less sense. I looked at the clock on the wall and pulled my phone from my pocket. Then I called a taxi and ran upstairs to get ready.

Δ

Zion arrived at the funeral in the middle of a light drizzle. The burial grounds lay behind the first mountain, near the royal palace. It was a lawn nestled among the mountains, surrounded by a well-kept garden full of butterflies that added color to the somber setting. Headstones pointed toward the sky, gleaming in the silvery light of the rainy day. He walked among them and joined the still-small gathering of people assembled around an altar for the ceremony. His watch showed he was quite early, but that was intentional—he wanted to arrive early to welcome all the families and friends of the victims.

Up there, fifteen urns were being displayed for the wake—all that remained of the bodies from the border hospital. There were no urns for the eighty soldiers from the gorge, as no bodies had been recovered. They had all been left behind in enemy territory.

Wherever Zion walked, people made room and stepped away. He didn’t care, but it still felt strange, as if he didn’t even deserve to mourn his men. The shadows clustered on his shoulders, sad about the situation. Zion felt terribly empty, and now that he had distanced himself from his partner, loneliness dug permanent claws into his chest. He didn’t understand what more she wanted. Zion had given everything—his time, his attention, even his heart. But nothing seemed to be enough. He had made a mistake, he admitted that. Now he knew he should never have hidden something like that. If he was being honest with himself, he would have been distraught too if he’d learned his partner had slept with someone else—and it would have been even worse if that someone was his best friend. But now there was nothing to be done. He had given his best to fix things and had only earned her contempt.

He stopped in front of the altar and turned to face the people trickling in. Cauê was on the other side with his wife and son, and nodded in greeting to the general. All the soldiers he had saved were there too, all with their families. He watched Kaori approach with her father, who limped along leaning on his cane. She wore a black dress that fell to mid-calf, but to Zion’s surprise, her hair—which should have been shaved—now reached her shoulder in an asymmetrical cut. It was straight and black, like the hair of all Vinturian women. It must have been the work of some elmedic specializing in aesthetics. The Yamamotos always had one on call in Vinturis, as they were meticulous about appearance.