Page 129 of Burning Ice
When Milanov lowered his glass, he nodded to his sons. “My sons will show you a glimpse of what the future will look like.”
Moargan moved first, smiling. “Our family thanks you for your loyalty. May you enjoy the evening and all it celebrates.”
Helianth followed, charming as ever. “And may the wine last longer than our speeches,” he said, earning laughter.
Then Kylix stepped forward, voice calm and sure. “I’m grateful you could all be here. It means more to our family than you know. Tonight marks the beginning of something worthkeeping.” He found Mirel across the terrace. The black fur of his cloak caught the glow, his face unreadable but beautiful. “My bonded and I thank you for your presence. Let the evening continue.”
Applause rippled. The rhythm deepened. Glasses clinked. Then, slowly, silence crept back between the notes of conversation until only the soft percussion remained.
Milanov’s hand brushed his shoulder in approval before he turned back to the guests. “Spoken well. Now, let us enjoy what comes next.”
The Luminary guards entered the light, black and gold uniforms gleaming, boots striking the path in perfect cadence. Their presence alone hushed the laughter. They took position behind the fountain, movements exact, expressions hidden behind smooth visors.
Milanov gestured. “And here he is. Come closer, my boy.”
Mirel stepped forward, the black fur of his cape brushing the marble, his attire matching Kylix’s dark elegance. Lantern light caught in the pale edges of his blond hair and glimmered in his yellow eyes, the same vivid shade as Cyprian’s, bright and unyielding. He looked regal, but Kylix could see the tension under the surface, the faint tightness in his shoulders, the measured breath of someone who felt every gaze on him. He didn’t bow, but simply stood there.
Whispers rippled.
“He looks so small.”
“Small, yes, but they say his touch could stop a heart.”
“Let’s hope it’s not ours.”
Kylix’s jaw tightened. This was the ritual. Restraint over impulse.
The air cooled. Sound dropped a register. Milanov’s voice carried from somewhere behind. “Helion honors its traditions. Let us remember that justice can be beautiful.”
Moargan leaned toward Helianth, smiling. “Always the same. Delicious. I can almost hear the screams before they start.”
Helianth’s grin brightened. “Not much screaming tonight. It’s going to get very cold.” Their father’s quiet nod told everyone what came next.
Kylix felt the anticipation settle low in his body, heat pooling beneath his ribs. His incisor itched, a faint pulse of hunger that made him clench his jaw to keep still.
Then boots struck the path again. A soft ruffle joined them from unseen percussion. From the garden’s edge, the guards appeared, black and gold uniforms gleaming. Behind them came the prisoners in violet jumpsuits, wrists bound with glowing restraint cuffs that pulsed in rhythm with their hearts.
The procession became a catwalk of ruin beneath the lights. Servants carried trays of shimmering drinks and cold Helion delicacies of sliced sea-fruit and spiced roots in silver leaves. Laughter softened as the prisoners crossed the grounds.
Kylix recognized each face. He had arrested them himself. The Doctor blinked, confused. The Attica rebels trembled.
Two men stood apart from the line, purple jumpsuits marked with the same insignia he remembered from the frost-stained cells of the graveyard.
One stared straight ahead, lips pressed in defiance, the other smirked faintly, proud of the damage he had done.
Kylix felt no satisfaction, only the cold precision of a promise kept. And then there was Theo, pretty even in fear, blond curls damp, blue eyes wide and lost.
Mirel turned toward Kylix. The question sat silent in his eyes.
Kylix’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You think you can tell me what they did to you and I’d let them live?” he said quietly.
Helianth stood a step behind him, arms folded, silent and certain.
Around him, people shifted. The rhythm deepened. His eyes found Mirel, and the bond stirred under his skin. Mirel didn’t look at him, but Kylix felt the pull, felt the calm before the strike. Pride mingled with love, heat with restraint. Mirel was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Mirel moved, slow and deliberate, cloak sweeping like shadow. Faces turned as he passed, some wary, some awed, some unable to decide which.
The percussion ceased. Stillness followed.
