Page 9 of Interion

I set my bag on the counter and leaned over to peek down the hallway that led to the room where the animals were kept.

“I came to pick up my little monster.” I saw Owen’s bald head appear at the end of the hallway, confusion written all over his wrinkled face.

“But someone already came to pick up the chimera. Zion was here earlier—I thought he’d told you.”

This time, my expression mirrored his confusion.

“Zion?”

What the hell was Zion thinking? Anger was starting to bubble up over the hurt.

“I’m sorry, dear. If I’d known, I would have called.” I heard the faucet turn on, and soon the veterinarian came over, limping on his bad knee while drying his hands on a white towel. “I told him about the test results, but since you’re here, I’ll repeat: Kiara is perfect—no abnormalities in her levels.”

The chimera always needed tests because the genetic mutations in her DNA caused side effects. It was important to keep an eye on her sodium and cholesterol levels. Sometimes her carnivorous side conflicted with her herbivorous side, causing problems if they weren’t balanced in time.

He smiled, showing his yellowed teeth, and pointed to a mangled power cage in the corner of the reception area.

“See how strong she is? Before the doorbell even rang, she’d broken two blocking shields. She finished breaking the third the moment the general walked in. You should have seen how happy she was. The second she saw Zion, she threw herself at him.”

“Sneaky little creature! And how much is this stunt going to cost me?”

I tried not to roll my eyes at the thought of Kiara being so happy to see him. Traitor. She’d been ignored, just like me. And still, she ran to him at the first opportunity. The general didn’t deserve that greeting—he’d lost the right to it when he stopped answering calls and ignored us for years.

“Don’t worry, my dear. It was worth learning that no magic or protective barrier, no matter how expensive or powerful, can withstand the willpower of a chimera determined to escape. Think of it as a security test.”

“If you see it that way, all right! And what about the rest of the bill?”

“Zion took care of it, Kyller, don’t worry. Actually, it was a pleasure to see him. Our general is a good man—I hadn’t seen him in years.”

Neither have I, I wanted to reply, but I held my bitter tongue. Then I silently scoffed at the “good man” part. It was hard to believe that when his entire existence revolved around exterminating lives.

Apparently, everyone had run into my supposed husband except me. Dr. Owen didn’t know we were married. In fact, many people didn’t. Zion had married me to circumvent the rules that prevented a descendant of Drutes from entering the city. A war raged between the two nations, and according to the laws, I couldn’t even get near the walls. But the general and I were biological partners—a mystical, poorly understood connection that marked us as soulmates. Because this bond was considered so special, a gift from the gods, no law in the world superseded it, not even the kings’—which forced King Elitium to permit our union and my entry into Interion. The only ones who needed to know were members of the government and the elmedics, so they could understand the state of my body when I arrived and develop an urgent treatment plan. Zion lent me his surname to keep me safe from gossip and xenophobic attacks. To most people, though, I was just a distant relative with an improper genetic lineage.

I smiled as I thanked him and said goodbye to the veterinarian, feigning normalcy. I left with the bells jingling behind me. My bad mood was returning, so I headed home with a heavy heart, wondering what Zion’s return meant and what complications it would bring. Kiara was his, but she had become my companion. Now I dreaded learning what the general’s intentions were for the chimera, since he’d picked her up without my knowledge.

When I got home, I climbed the front steps feeling defeated, my head full of doubts. The scanner performed facial recognition and unlocked the door. After I opened it, I touched the magical barrier, and it dissolved in two seconds.

I had hoped to find them there, but the house remained as I’d left it: no sign that Zion had visited, nor that the chimera had touched the food I’d put out that morning.

Empty.

Δ

The kitchen table held the food I’d made in case someone showed up, and the house smelled of pine and Yonserian lemon thanks to the two hours I’d spent cleaning. Bone-tired and red-eyed, I climbed the stairs, dragging my feet. The truth was, I was still waiting for some news from Zion or Kiara.

As I headed to the bedroom, I huffed and laughed at myself, imagining how pathetic I must look. If indifference were a disease, it would be scabies: the more you scratched, the more you wanted to scratch. By midnight, I’d tossed and turned so much, thought so hard, that if it really were an itch, I’d be raw. So I let myself drift off, because sleep was the best escape—for the sick and the ignored alike.

Chapter 3

The next day, I didn't have to work. So I spent the afternoon with my nose buried in books, studying for the surgical test coming up soon. When the clock hit 4 p.m., I threw on my workout clothes and headed out for a run through the neighborhood to the Silent Woods. With military academy classes resuming on Monday, it was time to start warming up.

In Interion, daylight hours existed in perpetual twilight because a solar barrier covered the nation. The summer sun had been cruel to the crops, and after the Great War, the imbalance caused by the fires made things worse. So the council created a magical barrier to filter the sun's rays, letting them reach the ground at reduced intensity. During summer, a reddish shield covered the capital. Until autumn arrived, every day would look like dusk.

It was wonderful having the best hour of the day all the time.

On the horizon, between the mountains, countless colorful houses and shops perched on every buildable piece of land. This was why Interion became known as the nation of colors: its inhabitants couldn't paint their facades in neutral tones, and having two houses on the same street share a color was almost unthinkable. Not even the trees escaped the colorful anarchy. Everywhere, purple wisterias, red maples, and orange plane trees filled the view.

While running through the military district, I ran into several students from my class. They pretended I didn't exist, and I pretended I didn't care. There was only one person at the academy I could call a friend, and right now he was heading toward me with a smile bright enough to light up the whole neighborhood—if you could convert it into volts.