Page 8 of Interion

To tell the truth, I don't know if you can call a simple signature a marriage when I didn't even know the man I'd married. Legally, I was married. But if it weren't for a photograph I kept at home, I'd barely know what he looked like. The marriage happened right after my rescue, and while I was undergoing total reconstruction surgery on both lungs, Zion was preparing the paperwork. That union was the only thing that kept me from dying under Interion's purge system for half-breeds from Drutes. So after three days in a coma, when I finally woke up, Zion had already left for another mission to eliminate the forced breeding camps—which meant massacring a lot of people.

“Don't look at me like that—I don't know anything. I was just as surprised to see him here.”

I took three deep breaths, but none of them came close to calming me down. Then I grabbed the clipboard and checked the patient's admission date and time. He'd arrived at 7 p.m. yesterday. That meant Zion had been in the city for more than twelve hours, ignoring my existence. Something burned in my chest and behind my eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the feeling from surfacing.

The elmédico was staring at me, his face full of compassion. You didn't need to be a telepath to know what was going through his head. Ever since that fateful day five years ago, everyone had avoided talking about my “husband.” No one ever quite understood what had happened, and in the end, my psychological problems only deepened the silence of the people around me.

Noticing my growing silence, Ambrose spoke up:

“Kyller, that's just how he is—work above everything else. Don't look for sentimental explanations in his actions. The general is a good man, but he's always been reserved.”

I felt tears welling up and pretended to check the clipboard to distract myself. Zion had saved my life, and I owed him everything. But the indifference consumed me from within. Sometimes, during fragile early mornings, I wondered if he regretted it. He'd spent five years away without any contact. No phone calls, no letters, not even through that idiotic “biological compatibility bond.” If the distance and silence weren't enough to drive us apart, there was still the fact that the general was the greatest exterminator of my people.

There were so many chasms between us that it was better not to even begin naming them.

“If you say so,” I murmured, lacking the courage to continue the conversation. The beeper vibrated in my pocket, and with relief, I noticed another patient was waiting for me. “I need to check on the patient in 402.” I showed him the small display. The elmédico pressed his lips into a thin line. “See you later, Ambrose, and don't give me that pitying look.”

I turned and started to leave.

“It's not pity, Kyller. I just worry about you, my angel. I think you two should talk.”

I stopped in the doorway, hands clenched into fists. I felt that old pain taking over.

“Talk about what, Ambrose? About him being the greatest genocidal murderer of my people, or about this shitty relationship he didn't even bother to discuss? I gave up trying to understand the situation about two years ago. I gave him chances for three whole years, and guess what happened? Nothing!”

“You know he follows orders, Kay,” Ambrose said quietly, afraid of being overheard. “We all do. It's unfair to blame him for something he has no control over.”

“He has choices. We all do.” I thought of the descendants who’d been in my same situation and were wiped out by Interion’s army. I only survived because the general discovered I was his biological match, but what about Armiris? How did the slaves who lived with me die? “Killing someone is always a choice.”

“Yes, but the consequence of not following a direct order is also death.”

“Zion may not have a choice about that, Ambrose, but he does when it comes to me. And clearly, he didn’t choose me.”

A nurse appeared in the hallway, forcing us to end the discussion.

I rushed down the corridor but didn’t go to room 402. Instead, I hid in the third-floor bathroom. I stayed there for a while, steadying my heartbeat and thinking about what I’d just discovered.

Δ

Time at the hospital passed quickly. As a resident, I only worked part-time. In Interion, education is divided into two parts. In the morning, we trained our gifts. Each student, like me, was assigned an internship suited to their abilities, and this system allowed the city to keep both workers and apprentices at the same time.

In the afternoon, students gathered at the military academy for hand-to-hand combat classes. In this nation, either you graduate from the military academy, or you can’t work in your elemental field—not with a decent salary or citizen’s rights, anyway. I was in my final year and would have my diploma in less than six months.

At the hospital, residents didn’t get vacations. But the academy was on break, marking the start of a new semester—my last. Classes would resume on Monday, and just thinking about the torments of training made me want to curl up and disappear into some corner.

After changing and saying goodbye to Ambrose, I headed to the central square, toward the veterinary office. I was late to pick up Kiara, Zion’s pet chimera. He’d rescued her from an underground lab where they performed gruesome experiments on animals. When the general left, I was sixteen, and the chimera was two. Over time, I’d gotten used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t coming back. We adapted to our new routine and ended up becoming companions. For the last five years, it had been just her and me against the world.

I walked quickly, careful not to get run over by the cars and motorcycles zipping past, their elemental-powered engines humming. It was a typical summer day, and a warm breeze laden with humidity from Lake Canoa blew through my hair.

I said hi to the statue of Rosnir, the greatest warrior and healer of the Great War. Greeting the statue had become a daily custom, something perfectly normal among the hospital doctors. On the horizon, the great inner wall marked the boundaries of the central district. Interion was protected by three walls, erected over the centuries to contain threats. The first had risen millennia ago to mark territory and keep away the lamias—creatures that live in the forest and feed on blood. The two newer barriers were built after the Great War, five hundred years ago, to defend Interion and its citizens from the fae who’d tried to take the territory.

The hospital, like my house, the academy, and the vet’s office, was located at the center of the inner wall—the most protected place in the nation. Getting to the veterinary office meant walking ten blocks. Fifteen minutes later, I stopped in front of the blue facade.

Dr. Owen’s office always gave me a cozy feeling. Owen was a low-level fae healer, around six hundred years old. The door had one of those noisy little bells that reminded you of grandma’s house, and when I entered, it tinkled. Not that the noise did the fae much good—after all, our race has sharp hearing.

I heard the veterinarian’s voice from the back.

“To what do I owe the honor, dear Kyller?”