Chapter 6 #2
“Yes, but that’s an old, sad story from 300 years ago.
Just because it was sad for them doesn’t mean it’ll be like that for you two.
” He leaned toward me. “We have to focus on the future and on the connection you have with him. I bet now that you two are close, things should get pretty interesting.”
They looked at me expectantly and I rolled my eyes. The most interesting thing that could happen between Zion and me, given the mood we were in, was me throwing another knife at him and actually hitting him this time.
“That’s not how the bond works. Honestly, I don’t even know if it works—I don’t feel anything coming from him. The only time I reached out through the bond, I got no response.” I remembered that days later, Zion had sent the lawyer to find me. “Well, maybe I did, but not in the way I expected.”
“Probably because you two haven’t sealed it.” They both squirmed in their chairs with excitement.
“And we’re not going to. Sometimes I wonder if this bond even exists at all.”
“That’s nonsense—of course it exists. You said you got a response when you reached through it, even if it wasn’t what you expected.”
Ambrose had a point. The memory of Zion’s muscles rippling as he trained that morning reminded me of one detail that fit the biological definition of the compatibility bond: attraction.
Not that the man wasn’t attractive on his own merits, but…
I shook my head and tried to drop the subject before my brain short-circuited.
“But I don’t feel anything. Before, I could grasp that connection if I concentrated hard enough. Now, nothing. It’s like there was a road, and suddenly it just vanished.”
“There you go, Kay. You must have lost the feeling from not using it, but I’m sure once you two start getting physical, the connection will come back.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I grumbled, sullen and sharp.
“But—”
“But nothing! Just stop. There are a million reasons why it won’t happen.” I clenched my fists under the table. “He doesn’t have time for anything else while he’s busy crushing my people and avoiding me. It’s simpler this way. Life’s complicated enough without that kind of problem.”
“Simpler for whom, dear? I don’t see how staying away from a partner is simple,” Ambrose grumbled, but he saw something in my face that made him drop it. “Fine, keep lying to yourself.”
I glared at him, and he shot back a mocking look, as if his opinion had already won.
Ambrose had this habit of thinking he was always right, and once he got something in his head, he’d hammer away at me relentlessly.
Lorenzo cleared his throat beside us, drawing our attention.
Then he pointed to the waiter bringing the food.
The conversation ended, and we ate in silence while I gazed at the scenery, my thoughts drifting.
When Zion left five years ago, I was too shaken to even think about the bond they kept mentioning.
I was grieving my own life and thought it should have ended the day I was rescued.
I became fearful, terrified of the possibilities stretching out before me, and all the while, everyone kept telling me: “You’re Zion’s protégée, the greatest general of Interion!
” I tried to understand what that meant, but doubts about him crept in, and I couldn’t see the point of being someone’s protégée when he didn’t even care about me.
At the same time, a wall of fears and insecurities loomed ahead.
Then came the therapists, then the psychiatrists, and I accepted treatment because I wanted to get better.
Teachers taught me the basics about the nation, and I took Interian etiquette classes to improve my social skills—back then, I seemed like a caged animal, which frightened people.
Ambrose stayed by my side, hand extended to catch me whenever my feet faltered as I battled my way up the steps of the wall I was trying to climb.
During the first year, every flight of stairs was a victory. But there was always someone at the hospital to remind me: “The general’s companion. Look how lucky she is.”
I kept climbing, one foot after the other, hands in the right places, and the ascent never got any easier.
But the important thing was that I kept my eyes on the top and stayed clinging to the wall.
Another step and I was in college—my gifts were incredible.
Another flight of stairs and I reached the military academy, because I needed to know how to fight if I wanted to live in Interion.
Then I left the hospital and moved in with Kiara, into Zion’s house.
I started dressing like an Interian, learned their customs, and even adapted to the heels, makeup, and buns so prized within the walls.
Once again, they reminded me: “Zion really is a good man. He does everything for this girl. Without him, she’d be nothing. ”
I kept fighting depression, the urge to hide from the world, and the rejection from Interion’s inhabitants, who looked at me with disgust. One last time, they said: “Kyller Voluz—what a beautiful surname. You have the best warrior by your side.”
And I snapped.
I snapped because when I looked around, I didn’t see the powerful warrior they talked about.
I snapped because when I fell, there was no general—just an elmedic and a friend who took me in and gave me shelter while the storm raged.
I lost it completely and furiously unleashed every thought I had on the matter.
Because I had stood up, balancing on the thin steps of memories.
I had climbed that damned wall with my own hands, out of the black hole that was my past.
I survived, and there was no general by my side.
Just me and all the marks the steps had left behind.
Δ
“Thanks for lunch, Lorenzo. This is the best restaurant!” I hugged him, then said goodbye to Ambrose, who was still grumpy.
“We’ll come more often—we love hanging out with you, Kay.”
“Whenever you want!” I blew them a kiss and ran toward the military installation.
My watch read 1:45 p.m., which meant I had fifteen minutes to get to training. I made my way through the crowded downtown streets—it was the lunch rush, so everyone was flocking to the restaurants to eat and enjoy the scenery.
Hateful stares followed me along the way as I kept my eyes on the ground. I didn’t dare look up. That was a battle I wasn’t ready to fight. Maybe I never would be.
After three blocks, the scenery began to change.
Patrols jogged past me, scowling men in military uniforms. The streets lost the color, movement, and energy of downtown, giving way to the calm order of the military academy’s surroundings.
I checked in at the entrance gate and headed straight for the training gym.
I needed to change into the academy uniform: boots, a black high-collared shirt, and matching pants with green accents.
On the chest was Interion’s circular symbol—it looked like a labyrinth of walls.
Once dressed, I pulled my hair into a tight braid so it wouldn’t get in the way.
Five minutes later, I pushed through the gymnasium's double doors and noticed the students were already in formation in front of the black fighting ring.
They were all fae with ancestry from the four nations.
Gorgons were also allowed if they had some kind of gift, but that was rare, and that year, none had enrolled.
As I walked, I felt someone watching me and scanned the room, but everyone seemed distracted and I couldn't spot anyone looking my way.
I spotted Breno in the left corner, talking with a group of Interians.
As soon as he saw me, he broke away from the girls and came to meet me.
I walked toward my friend, happy to see him.
But halfway there, Breno's expression changed and his attention shifted to a point behind me.
He opened his mouth to shout what would have been a warning, but something whipped across my back.
Flaming red pain spread through my lower back, tearing a muffled cry of surprise and agony from me.
As I doubled over, pressing the burning spot, Breno stormed past me seething with hatred and snatched a resistance band from the floor—probably what had hit me.
“Did the assholes miss my fist over the holidays?” he asked after pulling me behind him.