Page 101 of Interion

“Zion?” Both generals stopped, and the shadow wielder turned, trying not to think the worst.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he replied, matching Cauê’s tone.

“The chair is empty, and the offer still stands.”

“My answer is still the same, Your Majesty.” Zion looked at Serguei sitting in his chair—the tired eyes, the bitter resignation of being forced to spend his days there. “I’m better with a sword than with words. My place is on the battlefield.”

He could tell the king believed him. The monarch dealt with lies all day—of course he’d recognize the truth.

“Hope springs eternal, doesn’t it?”

Zion forced a stiff smile and bowed again. One more bow and he’d end up growling. They left the room, thanking the gods it had all ended well. If the king knew what he did outside the walls, he wouldn’t be offering a chair—he’d be offering the guillotine. Neither option appealed, so Zion preferred to stay as far away as possible.

Once they were out of sight and the doors firmly closed, Cauê shuddered.

“By the gods. A thousand years could pass and I’d never get used to that power,” he grumbled, stepping into the elevator. “I feel like someone put my brain in a blender. If the gift is like this in the king’s hands at level 700, I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like in Serguei’s.”

Zion avoided looking at the former trainer. He knew better than anyone what it was like.

“Try meditating. It’ll help realign your mind.”

Every word that left his mouth tasted bitter. It revolted him to remember how he’d spent hours realigning his thoughts after someone invaded them, back when he didn’t know how to create a shield.

He felt Cauê studying him.

“Must’ve been hell growing up with someone like that.”

Zion rolled his eyes.

“You know they’re listening to every word, right?”

Cauê straightened and fell quiet.

“What kind of animals are attacking the soldiers?” Zion asked, changing the subject.

“We're not sure exactly. The howl sounds like a wolf, but the tracks are larger and different. Some soldiers who were near the attack claim the creature's shape was as big as a horse,” he replied as the elevator door opened onto the entrance hall, where Sirena was watching them. Zion simply ignored the woman, and the shadows hissed in her direction.

“Maybe a new chimera?” he asked with keen interest. He'd destroyed two underground labs, but perhaps the enemies had created a third.

“We think that might be it, but we haven't let the information spread yet. We don't want to cause panic among the squadrons.”

Zion didn't know exactly what to say. A well-trained chimera could be lethal, and if there were enough of them, it would be chaos. That was why he'd made sure the laboratories turned to ash.

“Maybe it's the same thing that attacked the soldier found near the wall,” Cauê said. “Did you get any more information about him?”

“The claw marks match up, but not even Serguei could access his memories, and he'll only try once more before they disconnect the equipment. Ambrose has two theories: either the man's mind was destroyed, or he's already crossed over to the world of the dead,” he replied thoughtfully.

The moon was high in the sky when they left the palace. The general's thoughts turned to home—specifically to the girl sleeping there. The chimera was standing guard, but he needed someone to restore the magical barrier and had forgotten that detail. The two walked in silence until Zion reached his residence and bid the man farewell.

Up on the second floor, a white chimera with a leonine face watched him happily; the braids, now dry, hung in a cascade, and the tail swayed from side to side.

The general turned on his phone, ignoring the flood of messages that poured in. Then he sent a message to the fae responsible for magical protections, asking him to come the next day during Kyller's test, since it wasn't safe to leave the house unprotected.

He finally materialized in the girl's room. He knew it was wrong to invade her privacy like this, but after three days together, he could barely stay away for a few hours. As he approached the bed—hands firmly tucked in his pockets to keep from touching his partner—the shadows stirred as if asking permission to tangle themselves in her hair. He denied them, of course.

She slept comfortably in a tangle of blankets, a pillow between her legs and another clutched to her chest. Zion had never felt so much envy for a pillow. But as soon as the thought arose, he sensed someone snooping around in his mind. He redirected the intruder to his second consciousness, which was trying not to think about Kyller.

“Relax, it's just me,” said Serguei's voice in his mind.