Page 50 of Interion

“You killed all of them,” I stammered, trying to compose myself, but my mind was in shock, unable to break free from that sticky trap. “How can you live with the weight of this atrocity? How do you have the audacity to take innocent lives and call yourself some damn proud general?”

“Someone has to deal with this problem. Unfortunately, that someone is me.”

Not a people. Not persons. Just... a problem. That was how the world saw us.

“You're a monster.”

The images still flashed through my memory. They were good people who had suffered—perhaps friends I'd grown up with, gone to school with, loved.

“Great, now you understand! I hope that was enlightening about why this 'friendship' isn't a good idea.”

He turned his back and walked away. A cold hatred I never thought I could feel consumed my heart.

“One day you'll pay for all of this,” I said, my hands clenched into fists.

Zion stopped for a second, his entire body radiating perverse fury as shadows slithered like serpents across his skin.

“There's not a day I don't pay, Kyller.”

Another icy wind whipped through my hair, and then he vanished into the shadows.

I let myself collapse against the table, shaken and infinitely tired of all this turmoil. My hands pressed against my chest, as if somehow I could keep my heart from breaking.

By the gods, what an idiot I was. I felt like the stupidest creature in the universe. How could I have let myself hope when it came to him? How could I have opened up, talked, even laughed by his side these past few days? As if I didn't know what he did beyond the walls, as if reality wouldn't eventually catch up with me. I was a desperately needy, hopeful fool, but the truth had been there all along, and no matter how much I wanted some relationship to fill the emptiness of that house, I shouldn't have let myself forget. Hope, it turns out, is a cruel little beast, and whoever surrenders to it ends up losing everything—including their own heart.

After what felt like an eternity of tears, I stood up, trying to steady my mind. In the process, I shoved the bond into a tiny corner of my soul—a tightly locked box. I was disgusted by it and would do anything to forget it existed. Still dizzy and nauseous, I walked toward the exit, and as I made my way home, I promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistake. I wouldn't give him space in my life. I wouldn't subject my heart to fresh humiliation. I would live my life as best I could, far away from him.

It was a promise.

Chapter 14

After that hellish conversation, Zion and I had been avoiding each other.

I went to training and pretended the hateful man I called coach was just a stranger. In turn, he treated me like everyone else. Between vacant stares, simmering hatred, and clipped exchanges, the week flew by.

It was Friday, and according to Ambrose, the grades would be posted on the hospital bulletin board. The world was modernizing, and sure, the grades could have been posted on the academic app, but a 350-year-old doctor still had a 350-year-old mindset, despite all Vinturian technology.

I woke up euphoric, threw on my clothes, and rushed to work. Those grades would be the first step toward landing a good job within the walls. The city has three hospitals: the largest is in Rosnir, where I do my internship; a mid-sized one in the fae district; and a basic one in the human district. There's no hospital in the gorgon district because most gorgons live in the Serpents' Fort, outside the walls. The few who live in Interion go to the central hospital when they need help.

I aspired to work at Rosnir Hospital, but for that to happen, my grades needed to be good. If I had pure Interion genetics, I could scrape by with a seven average and get in easily, but my ancestry worked against me. I needed to secure grades above eight so no one would doubt my competence.

As I walked toward the hospital, my heels made a hollow sound on the scarlet floor. The entire military district was designed for training, and instead of sidewalks, there were smooth paths painted red, well-marked and bordered by gardens meant to soften the oppressive atmosphere. Some soldiers jogged past me on their morning run, and I avoided looking at them—partly because I'd never liked soldiers, and partly to avoid anything that reminded me of the general. Just the memory of his disdainful laugh made my heart race while my stomach churned.

At the corner near my street, a large screen caught my attention, pulling me from my sadistic daydreams about setting Zion's hair on fire. The anchor was announcing a story, and to listen, I pressed the earbuds hanging from my ears.

The anti-Drute movement has struck again. Last week saw the death of young Natanael, only eight years old. Today the group claimed two more victims: both were descendant siblings living in the farming region, near the outer wall. Searches are underway, and a squadron will be assigned to deal with the rebels. Stay tuned for updates.

I waited for the second story of the day, and soon the journalist appeared on screen.

This afternoon, the first shipment of Vinturian military equipment was supposed to arrive in Interion. However, we've just learned that the ship carrying the entire cargo vanished early this morning, somewhere in the slopes triangle, shortly after entering the Emir River channel. The nations are investigating the theft and have already ruled out a Drute attack. All signs point to exiled pirates, so the maritime guard will be reinforced to prevent future thefts. We'll return this evening with more information.

Commercials started playing and I turned off the earbuds, hurrying along. The king had to be furious this morning. Rumor had it he'd thrown a chair out the window of the 50th floor when he learned of the last maritime theft three months ago. If the ship really was transporting Vinturian military weaponry, today he'd probably throw the entire room through the glass.

Only the gods knew how difficult it was for Vinturis to share military technology with other nations, and how eagerly Interion's soldiers had awaited this first shipment. Vinturis didn't like the idea of arming other nations with their one exclusive advantage. Interion, Ampér, Drutes, and Yonser had elementals with considerable wartime powers, but the Vinturian population was mostly human, and their fae weren't powerful enough to pose a threat. Their defenses relied on the power of their machines, contraptions, and devices, and although they were happy to sell their transportation, entertainment, and communication technologies, weapons were a different matter. This created constant friction among the continent's leaders and pressure from Interion, which would be more than happy to spend all its money on the supposed metal-spitting technological weapons that, for now, remained nothing but fanciful rumor.

Δ

I arrived at the hospital half an hour early. Ambrose was standing at the entrance, smoking his cigarillo—a calming, highly addictive herb from the Drute forests that was somehow legal in the nation.