Page 39 of Interion

“And I also want Mr. Ivanov to pay all of Naoki’s medical expenses, since he’s an exchange student and the academy assumes responsibility for covering the hospital costs, which will be…” He pulled a sheet from the printer on the desk and scanned for the amount. I already knew it would be 18,000 dunas before he even said it, since I knew the hospital’s rates. “Do you gentlemen agree?”

“Yes! I’m in full agreement, Lionel,” Ivanov said.

I looked at Zion over my shoulder when the room fell silent, waiting for his response. But his expression was so unreadable it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t agree,” Zion finally responded.

Not only did my jaw drop, but so did everyone else’s in the room.

Zion kept his gaze fixed on Lionel, who was starting to turn red.

“What do you mean you don’t agree?” the director sputtered.

“First, from what we saw in those recordings, Kyller did nothing that would qualify as assault or a crime. She did use her gift, but it was to save a life—something she swore to do when she entered medical school. If her case goes to court, the charge of using her gift without a supervisor nearby will be nullified by that oath. That way, we won’t have any problems, and if we do, it’ll only be a temporary suspension. Second, regarding Adele, I think the reasons that led her to attack Naoki are compelling enough that I’m not inclined to take the case to court—something I should do, but won’t, because I think she’ll learn more from me at the academy than behind bars.”

Zion finished his speech, crossing his arms over his chest. It struck me that was the longest sentence I'd ever heard him speak, but what surprised me most was that he'd used it to defend me.

The three men exchanged glances, and the tension grew so thick that, combined with my headache, it was almost suffocating.

Lionel drummed his fingers on the wooden desk.

“Gentlemen, I want 48 thousand dunas in my account, or I'll let the courts sort this out.” He leaned back in his black leather chair, looking immovable. Ivanov shifted his weight, visibly nervous.

The tension ratcheted up until I thought the air itself would become unbearable, but Zion wasn't going to back down—I was starting to know him well enough to see that.

“All right!” Ivanov said, raising his hands. “No problem, I'll pay the Voluz portion. Let's just get this over with.”

He pulled out his phone and concentrated on the screen. A moment later, Lionel's device beeped on the desk. The director checked it, smiling when he saw the funds had likely hit his account.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.” Lionel stood, ending the meeting.

“The pleasure was all ours,” Ivanov replied, opening the door. He was clearly forcing a fake smile.

Zion didn't say goodbye—he just gripped my shoulder and steered us toward the exit. He stayed behind me like a bodyguard, getting us out of there as fast as possible.

Okay. Now I was certain things were about to get ugly for me. We walked in silence to the administration building's exit. Outside, the sky had already gone dark, and from the lack of movement or sound, I'd say all the students had been dismissed. When we'd moved far enough from the door, he lifted his hand from my shoulder, making me stop to face him. I looked up at him. He gazed down at me, his expression revealing nothing.

“Are you hurt?”

The question caught me off guard. I'd expected a soul-chilling sermon or a terrible argument, but not this.

“N-no,” I murmured, rubbing my wrists. His eyes immediately dropped to them. The skin still hurt and itched, but the bruises had faded, thanks to my gift. “My body's already healed the injuries.”

He assessed me for another moment and didn't seem at all satisfied with what he saw.

“Go get your things from the locker room. I need to report to the king, so feel free to clean up if you want, but I'll be back soon to get you.”

“You don't need to worry about me.”

“Don't I? Are you sure about that, Kyller?” His eyebrows rose in challenge. “What I just saw through Ivanov's gift proves exactly the opposite.”

I remembered he'd seen the whole thing—Adrian pressing my face into the dirt—and instantly my cheeks flushed. His expression told me this wasn't the time for jokes, and I was wise enough to lower my gaze. A good soldier should recognize her defeat.

“Just don't argue with me, all right? Get your things and wait for me here.”

His voice made me hunch my shoulders, putting an end to the discussion. Noticing this, he turned and started walking toward the shadow of a tree. He looked tired.

“I want to go home alone,” I said, but after seeing him agree—something he never did—my determination wavered. “Hey?” I called out awkwardly, keeping my hands clasped in front of me. He stopped for a moment. “Are you angry with me?”