Page 110 of Interion

He gave a rueful smile and shrugged, catching a reddish leaf spinning down from the tree.

“I guess so.”

“Then why aren't you?”

Breno played with the leaf, avoiding my gaze.

“Something's been bothering me. I was hoping this score would solve my problem, but I think it made things worse.”

“Tell me, then. If you want to, of course,” I said, leading us to a nearby bench.

I brushed the dry leaves off the bench and we sat down. Breno looked unhappy and tired, reminding me of the rare days when his mother came to visit. Those were the only times I ever saw him truly bothered.

“Three years ago, I found some papers hidden in my mother's room. Documents—an agreement she made with the nation.”

“What kind of agreement?” There were two types of agreements in the world: blood and legal. But blood agreements were only made for matters of great importance and typically involved an exchange of favors.

“A legal agreement,” he said, tearing the paper into small pieces. “You know blockers are rare, don't you?”

“Yes. In Interion, there's only you, Zafira, Yugo, your mother, and now your brother.”

He nodded and glanced around; Hiro and Aish were still arguing.

“Yes, and before me and my brother, there were only three blockers. We've become precious to the nation—we're the shield behind the walls. A nation with few blockers is a weak nation.”

“I understand.” There really were few, and this was a hot topic in the media. The blocking gift was most common in Vinturis. They had more than a hundred with the gift there, but they were all weak—those with the highest levels were born in Interion. But the nation had lost many blockers during the wars against the Drutes.

“Did I ever tell you I don't know who my father was?”

“Sort of. You said he was a soldier and died in the forests just after you were born.” That was what his mother, Natali, had told him.

“Yes, and that was the same story my mother told my brother about his father. But the papers I found say otherwise. From what I could tell, she never got married, never intended to start a family. Natali was paid to have me and Dominic.”

My mouth fell open in surprise.

“Holy shit, Breno!” I murmured, shocked.

“And they paid a fortune: one million dunes for each child. Everything was done in a laboratory, and the eggs were modified so she'd get pregnant quickly—that's why we're only eleven years apart. It wasn't a miracle. It was all calculated.”

“How are you holding up?” I asked, taking his hands.

“Confused, stressed, angry.” He sighed. “But that's not the worst part. There's a clause in the document that says one of her children must serve as a Pillar after graduation.”

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, covering my mouth with my hands. “She practically sold you to the nation.”

He nodded and crushed the paper in his hands.

“And how do you feel about being a Pillar?”

“Being the king's lapdog?” Breno laughed bitterly and formed a barrier bubble around the shredded paper. “I don't think I like that.”

Pillars were members of the king's inner circle. They swore to serve the monarch eternally and were bound to him by a blood agreement. The agreement was an ancient and powerful magic that gave the king the right to command them, stripping away their free will. Once made, it couldn't be broken under penalty of death. If the king died, all his Pillars would die too. Despite the submission, there was a law that granted them rights—twelve hours of rest per day and annual vacations, as long as the king wasn't in danger. They also wielded influence and were the second-highest authority after the monarch. Elitium had three of them: Koduz, Zafira, and Serguei. The problem was that such an agreement, despite granting many benefits and power, meant subordination—and most of Elitium's Pillars had been forced into it, having to choose between the agreement and death.

“But are you forced to accept?” I asked, still incredulous.

“From what I read, either Dominic or I will become a Pillar, if Elitium agrees. If he decides we're not valuable enough, he might not want us.”

Now I understood Breno's despair: 850 was a good number—good enough for Elitium to claim him. We sat in silence for a while, the blocking bubble hovering above our heads. This was a massive complication.