Page 126 of Burning Ice
Helianth shrugged, entirely too pleased. “He worries when I don’t answer.”
“Worries, hm?” Aviel murmured. “That what they’re calling it these days?”
The room warmed again, lighter, hesitant, grateful for the noise. Helianth muttered something under his breath about children and court gossip.
Cyprian rolled his eyes. “Good Light, there they go again.” He reached for the bottle of Kalla sitting open on the counter and poured into two glasses. “These boys and their strength contests. Here. Drink with me, brother. Today, you were a hero.”
“A hero.” Mirel shrugged it off but felt the praise warm his chest. The Kalla was sweet and strong, exactly what he needed.
Cyprian leaned in. “What was it like?”
“In that building?” Mirel shivered. “Awful. Like death. I don’t know why they hate us so much. And then Kylix… and I saved him.”
Cyprian nodded. “Yes, brother. You did.”
Something crackled in the air. Mirel felt his veins cool. He sought refuge in Kylix’s embrace. His amano was talking to Vandor, but his arms tightened instantly, as if feeling Mirel’s need.
Cyprian’s smile felt off, as if he’d been waiting for the right breath. He lifted the canvas from his knees, thumb dragging a soft line through the charcoal. The smear darkened the paper, deepening the shadows until the scene looked almost alive. He rubbed at a corner, smudging the outline of a roof until his thumb came away gray. The drawing looked both precise and restless, as if the lines had been dragged out of a storm rather than drawn by hand.
“I told you I’d show you when it was finished,” he said quietly. “It’s my blinding light, brother. They’re visions.”
He turned the drawing toward them. Black strokes caught the glow from the stove, a graveyard rendered in smoke and ash, frost curling through every line, helicopters ghosted above like pale insects of light. Even the air on the page seemed to move, snow swirling in stillness.
Mirel’s breath hitched. The image was beautiful but wrong, too exact, too knowing. It was the building where he had almost lost Kylix, the tunnel of fire and ice reborn in charcoal. Mirel could almost feel the heat again. The blast, the choking air, the moment Kylix’s voice tore through the flames. Seeing it through his brother’s eyes made him shiver. The memory carried teeth.
Kylix’s hand found his waist, steady and warm, as if anchoring them both to the present. For a heartbeat the noise of the room vanished, only the pulse of that shared fear between them.
Moargan leaned forward, voice rough with pride. “That’s my lover,” he said.
Mirel’s eyes stayed on the page. “You saw all this… before it happened?”
Cyprian nodded once. “The light shows what needs saving. I only follow.”
Mirel remembered the hospital, his visit to the Imperial Consort. “Norma…”
Cyprian pointed toward another figure that sat on the side of the drawing. It wasn’t more than a few strokes, but drawn with an urgency he immediately recognized. “Ryneth.”
A hand found Mirel, his brother reaching out. He squeezed it.
“Davon-tus.”
The words left his mind on a whisper, and Cyprian’s eyes turned wet as he nodded. He’d heard him. The echo of the word still hummed between them, soft and electric, proof that the bond carried farther than speech. Mirel’s chest tightened at the sound.
“Norma has been restless over the past weeks. Perhaps that’s why Milanov decided to have your Aureate take place in the gardens of the Green Mansion and not in the arena.”
“I thought it was because he likes me.”
Cyprian chuckled, hand still on Mirel’s. “That too. Believe it or not, the Imperial is a good man. He dearly loves his wife. He wants Norma to be present, but won’t risk her health for crowded places.”
Cyprian had managed to portrait everything with uncanny precision despite the blunt grain of his instrument, the charcoal biting deeper where the memory still hurt. Mirel nodded, tracing the dark grain where memory still hurt. He traced his finger over the shape of Kylix, ghosting the canvas, then let his gaze take in the presence of Ryneth.
“She found him,” Cyprian said before Mirel could ask.
Mirel raised an eyebrow. “What? Who?”
“Norma. She came to me in my mind. Perhaps she found him before I did.”
Mirel frowned. “He was so fragile. Those animals. Light knows what they did to him.”
