Chapter 13 #2
“Come with me just this once. It'll be on Rosnir's holiday—you won't have to work and you'll be rested. If you don't like it, I'll bring you back.” He looked at me, his gaze intense and sincere. “Please, just this once.”
I thought for a long moment while Breno kept staring at me.
He was partly right—I'd never been to a party, or even to the movies, or any activity that normal students planned together.
Ambrose kept encouraging me to go out more, even if it was just to get ice cream on the corner of the central district, since the other districts were too dangerous.
But I saw no point in going out to have fun when going out only brought me panic and the fear of walking into an ambush.
Breno kept looking at me as if begging me to believe I'd be safe with him.
Part of me really wanted to believe that.
“All right,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “But I decide when we leave.”
“Okay! You always get the last word! I'll send you the digital invite—you just need to add your name to the list.”
I reached for my phone in my pocket, then remembered I didn't have it—someone had taken it last night.
“Um, Breno. I don't have my phone this week—something happened and I need to take it to the shop. But send it anyway, and I'll accept when I can.”
I stared at Adele, who stood by the mat waiting for her turn, solitary as always. I was almost certain she was the one who'd taken my bag—after all, she was the most cunning person in the class, and she'd been on campus the day before. After last night's scene, I didn't doubt anything anymore.
As I suspected, the umbros had removed her powers, and now I was dealing with the injured students alone.
I was still shocked that Adele had used healing as a form of attack—it would be a miracle if she managed to hide the temporary block from the academy.
And gods help us, let it be temporary and not permanent, because if anyone so much as suspected, she'd be expelled.
“Want to borrow a phone while you get yours sorted out?”
“No, that's okay. I'll handle this as fast as I can.” I shot a fierce look at the healer. I would definitely handle it.
I turned my attention back to the fights.
Today, new students joined Breno on the bench of defeat.
The warm-up had been brutal—Zion had us climb ten-meter ropes, and it felt like an eternity.
Then we ran laps around the entire military district, like some suicidal competition to see who could last the longest without passing out.
At least I managed to keep a decent pace and didn't fall too far behind the class.
Ludmila, Adele, and Lorena did worse. But nothing I did could hold my attention, because I was still frying my brain thinking about the previous night, and every time I remembered what happened, I felt like throwing myself in front of a truck.
When I woke up that morning, I went looking for Zion because I needed to talk to him and make sure everything was okay, but all I found was a note.
“I won't be home for a while.
The military installation has a room and
I believe it will be better this way.”
I slipped my hand into the pocket where I'd kept the note and thought the paper must be worn thin from how many times I'd read and reread its simple sentences. I wished my relationship with Zion were as simple as the words on that note, but it was more like a physics textbook written in braille.
I watched the general as he explained a move to the students on the mat.
I wondered how someone who considered himself so intelligent thought he had the slightest chance of solving all his problems with a note.
He'd run away for five years, and now that he was here, he couldn't keep avoiding me for the rest of his life.
By the scalding abyss, if he ignored me one more time, I'd set his hair on fire just so he'd yell at me.
Yelling was better than the terrifying silence.
So I waited for target practice to end. Today, Zion had changed up the training: instead of knives, he'd brought us bows and arrows.
In the four years I'd spent at the academy, we always had at least one weapons class a week—clubs, swords, daggers, axes, crossbows—and even surprise drills where we used whatever was around us as a weapon.
I loved handling them about as much as I loved the idea of having my butt bitten by a lamia.
But of all the disciplines I'd been introduced to, archery was the one I felt least averse to.
When Zion set the equipment on the tables, an involuntary smile tugged at my lips.
Who would have thought that lessons with my old adoptive human family would make me so sentimental about it?
I finished the training quickly. The goal was to land twenty arrows on target, and I completed it in ten minutes.
Apparently, my problem was with knives, because my aim was excellent.
Since I finished fast, I kept shooting, and by the end, when the sun sank toward the horizon and all the students had left, I counted my hits—fifty arrows, but none in the center.
I'd dragged out the training as long as possible, and now that the campus was empty, I realized it was a good time to talk.
Zion was collecting the weapons near the last bay.
The golden light was fading on the horizon, but it was enough for me to see his strong, scowling face.
I walked over to him, hearing the grass rustle as the wind kissed it, and stopped beside him.
He stayed still for a moment, then went back to gathering arrows as if I wasn't there.
My patience, already thin, had just run out.
“Hey, General,” I called, stepping closer. His face hardened into a cold expression. “Can you tell me what this is?”
I held out the note toward him. He didn't even glance at me, just kept organizing the area as if it were the most important thing in the world.
A gust of wind whipped through my hair, turning it into a mess around me. I stayed rooted to the spot—maybe that was the summary of our relationship: always stuck in the same place.
“A notice,” Zion replied, without looking at me. “You asked me to let you know when I was coming or going, and I did that.”
“And how long are you going to keep coming and going?” I demanded. My posture stayed firm as I stared at his back.
“Until it's safe.”
“Safe? Safe for whom?”
He didn't answer, and my impatience hit a breaking point.
“Zion, what are you so afraid of? I'm not here to force a bond.” It was hard to talk about this with him—I felt like I was talking about sex, since the bond involved a lot of that.
“I don't even want to discuss all the complications this bond involves, but you're my partner and I don't know anything about you.
Maybe it would be easier if we at least allowed ourselves a friendship, and that's not going to happen if you're going to live in the army dormitory or keep ignoring me.”
I noticed he clenched his jaw and avoided looking at me directly, moving on to the next table. I followed him.
“I swear I'm trying to understand you, but I need you to explain what's going on. I already apologized yesterday. Are you still angry about what happened in the locker room? It wasn't premeditated—I really was in trouble and you showed up at the wrong time. Don't be angry with me.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked unhappy.
No matter how hard I tried to get his attention, he was determined not to look at me, and it was bothering me to the point where I wanted to grab him by the hair just to make him face me.
I wasn't okay—something inside me seemed to push me toward him, as if it wanted something from him, but what?
I struggled to understand this new feeling while also trying to understand his situation.
“Talk to me, make this easier.”
“There's no way to make it easier.” This time his voice had changed. Irritated didn't begin to cover it. That shut me up, and he noticed how much it got to me. He took a deep breath before finishing, now controlled but deadly serious. “What you're doing is making things even more complicated.”
He moved to the next table, gripping the arrows so tightly his knuckles turned white. I followed his movements like one of his shadows.
“Complicate how? I just want to understand what these complications are. You saved me, called me your partner, overwhelmed me with emotions, and then disappeared. Then you came back, pretended everything was fine, made me believe we could be friends, and now you hit me with this note. Are you going to run away again? Run away without even trying to understand the person you call your partner?”
With a startling thud, Zion dropped all the arrows on the table and turned to me, glaring furiously.
“You want me to explain the complications? Fine, let's have this conversation. What do you want to know?” he asked, crossing his arms as he moved closer. Only a few inches separated us, and I was sure he was just trying to intimidate me. I straightened up, trying not to show my insecurity.
“What isn't safe?” I asked, taking a deep breath. It wasn't quite what I'd expected from this conversation, but it was better than nothing.
“Being close to you.”
“Why?” I huffed, lacing my fingers together to keep them still.
“I can't answer that question.”
I grunted in exasperation. Zion had shifted his posture and now wore a cold mask of calm, as if explaining something to a two-year-old. I took a deep breath, crossing my arms as well, and tried another question:
“Why did you disappear for five years?”
“Do I need a reason beyond the fact that my job is in the forests?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, nearly shouting. “I did my research, Zion. I know soldiers in the army return to the walls every month. I know you all get leave every year. But you never came back, not even to see Kiara, and I want to know why.”