Chapter 56 #2
“And how was it?” I asked, curious, as he played with my fingers, lacing them through his.
“It was strange, because you know... We’re not exactly the definition of a happy family, and we were never close. Serguei was surprisingly gentle and patient with me, so I can only say it was an unusual experience. Maybe it’s my best memory of him.”
His eyes showed he was uncertain what to say, perhaps a little sad from the memories. I shifted in my chair, unable to stay still for long.
“Zion, do you really hate him?” I was afraid to hear the answer, but I’d already put it off long enough. “Does Serguei really deserve all your contempt?”
His expression turned serious, and he stared at our joined hands, avoiding my gaze. He thought for a long moment before answering:
“I don’t hate him, and I don’t despise him either.
I just keep my distance so he can’t hurt me,” he replied, lost in memories.
I could see pain woven into his expression.
“Serguei’s better now—I think he’s been recovering from the tragedy with my mother—but it wasn’t always like that.
I know you like him, and I trust he genuinely wants what’s best for you.
In fact, every time I see you two together, I wonder if that’s the same Serguei I grew up with.
He even fixed up the apartment for you—back in the day, it was a pigsty full of books.
That’s definitely a big change.” Zion managed a faint smile.
“He was never like that with me, and now, when he tries to be nice, I can’t return it.
I still feel like at any moment he’ll enter my mind and force his power onto my memories.
Or worse, force me to do things I don’t want to do. ”
Zion stared at the photo on the sideboard, revealing where his thoughts had drifted.
I squeezed his hands and stroked them gently, but that alone wasn’t enough—I needed more contact.
I stood up carefully so as not to startle Kiara.
As he watched me, I pushed the table aside to make space and walked toward him.
Then I draped an arm over his shoulder and settled onto his left leg, letting him pull me against his chest.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“You’re already asking personal questions,” Zion teased, brushing his nose against my ear, which made me shiver in his lap.
“Stop that,” I exclaimed, pulling away, but he didn’t let me get far. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Of course you can ask me whatever you want, sunshine. I just can’t guarantee I’ll answer.” He smiled mischievously at me, and I bit my lip to resist the urge to kiss him. Maybe sitting in his lap hadn’t been the smartest idea.
“My question is about your mother.” I studied his face, which remained neutral. “Do you miss her? Did you ever know her, or do you know anything about who she was?”
Zion let out a pained sigh.
“I don’t remember Ravena. When she died, I was two, but I also don’t remember anything from before I was ten. I don’t know what to feel about her because Serguei took that from me, and I don’t know what to think either—whenever I try, my thoughts run into a wall and can’t get past it.”
Right then, Zion seemed to be trying to remember something and was growing frustrated, looking around as if there was something right in front of him that he couldn’t see. I’d be furious too if Serguei did something like that to me—I’d feel violated and betrayed.
“Do you think he was wrong to kill her?” That was the real question. Ever since I’d learned Zion was Serguei’s son, I’d wondered about this.
“Honestly, I don’t know, Kay. I asked him once, and Serguei lost control.
I was twelve and still didn’t know how to defend myself—I couldn’t fully control the shadows yet.
So I ran, and the shadows took me to Dornéu.
I stayed hidden there for a week. When I came back, I never asked about her again. ”
An icy sadness gripped my heart as I thought about everything Serguei had done to Zion, but I couldn’t bring myself to be angry—I saw the fracture in the psychic’s eyes, and it was immense.
“Do you think you’ll never be able to forgive him?” I asked, as his scent of summer nights and sandalwood enveloped me, calming me a little. His eyes remained distant.
“He’s never asked for forgiveness.”
“Never? For anything he’s done?”
“Nothing. But that’s irrelevant—I’ve already forgiven him.”
“Even for Akira?” I knew I was pushing it, but now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop. Zion looked at me with an intimate, direct gaze, his eyes holding mine with intensity.
“As much as I hate him for stopping me from doing what needed to be done, part of me understands him. A part that matured during my years as general.” He scratched the back of his neck, a clear sign he was uncomfortable.
“I spent years thinking about that day, and the only conclusion I can reach is that Kaori and I would have died if we’d made it to Akira.
We weren’t ready—we should have listened to the former general.
” He sighed with resignation. “Even though I was willing to give my life for a lost cause, it wasn’t a smart thing to do.
If I were a psychic and could save a soldier in the same position I was in, I would have done the same thing. ”
That was a deeply intimate confession—I doubted Zion would admit this to anyone but me. In fact, I was surprised he’d admitted it to himself.
“And then?” I asked, when Zion stopped and looked at the portrait again.
“And then, I forgive him,” he admitted, turning back to me. “And I hate him for it, for being damnably right even when he’s wrong.”
I fought to keep my eyes from widening in surprise. After seeing all their interactions, I never imagined I’d hear something like that.
“You’re a good man, Zion,” I said, caressing his cheek. Part of me had always known he was, even when I still believed he was the greatest killer of my people. I stroked his damp hair, tucking it behind his ear, and he sighed, sinking into his painful memories.
“Time hasn’t healed some wounds yet. Maybe it’ll take a few more years for me to get used to having him in our life. For now, my silence is the best I can offer.” He hesitated thoughtfully. “Does that bother you?”
I felt like crying, kissing him, and then slapping him. We were talking about his pain, about the enormous hurt he felt toward his father, and yet he was worried about whether it bothered me?