Page 55 of Burning Ice
“That’s the Dariux,” Kylix said. “It remembers what the body forgets. We call it instinct, but it’s older than that. You weren’t someone else, you were more yourself.”
Mirel shook his head, a faint tremor. “Felt wrong.”
“Because it should,” Kylix said. “If it ever stops feeling wrong, that’s when you’ve lost yourself. Don’t let anyone teach you comfort in cruelty. It isn’t mercy. It’s power. And power always feels wrong the first time.”
The silence stretched, close enough to touch. Kylix’s mouth curved, dangerous and slow. “The first time I killed, I thought the same thing. Until I realized what it woke in me. I felt everything. The sand under my feet, the boy’s breath against my skin, the pulse that raced faster than mine. They called it training, but it was worship in disguise, an altar built of fear.” He leaned closer, voice a quiet lure. “I was sixteen. He was older, but smaller, trembling. When he begged, I thought it was mercy. It wasn’t. It was surrender. And when I gave him what he asked for, the air changed. The sound of him stopping, Good Light, it went through me like fire.”
Mirel didn’t look away.
Kylix’s eyes glittered, half heat, half memory. “I came out of the arena with blood on my hands and my heartbeat steady. The crowd roared. I tasted calm. That’s what I saw in you today. That calm. The stillness after power lands.”
Mirel’s breath trembled. “It felt like that. Like everything stopped moving.”
“Stillness is truth,” Kylix murmured. “That’s what makes it beautiful. You, of all people, should know.”
He wondered, not for the first time, why Mirel was so silent. What he’d have to say once his mind would let him. He realized he couldn’t wait.
“You heard the Imperial. Tomorrow it will be made official. They’ll say I claimed you.” His mouth curved, a smile that heldboth pride and defiance. “They’ll believe it’s politics, or penance, or some act of mercy.” He looked at Mirel, the glow from the glass catching on his throat. “But it isn’t mercy. It’s fact. You stand beside me because I want you there. Let them write their reasons after.”
Kylix reached to the sideboard and slid a slim book across the table. The cover held a single glyph. “Read the clause I marked.”
Mirel hesitated, then traced the line with a finger. “Article Eleven. Speech is not required when silence is declared a formal answer.”
Kylix nodded. “Good. That is your shield. Silence is not absence. It is a position. Use it.”
He lifted a grape from the bowl and held it near Mirel’s mouth. “Reward,” he said, almost kind.
Mirel leaned in. At the last inch Kylix pulled it back and ate it himself, slow. “Next time I want your truth, not the book’s.”
Another grape. Closer. Mirel opened. This time Kylix let him have it, watched the swallow, thumb resting at the hinge of his jaw. “You learn fast when you want to.”
He didn’t say the word. He didn’t need to. The room already knew the shape of it from the way Mirel leaned toward the heat and stayed.
He reached for a cigarette and lit it, the ember catching slow and red. When he exhaled, the smoke curled between them, soft as a sigh. Mirel leaned forward, breath meeting his, the air turning warm again.
The smoke curled slow between them. For a moment he could almost believe the night had ended cleanly, that the world outside the estate was still waiting for their permission to move.
“Tomorrow you’ll begin classes at the Academy of Helion, but private instruction under Professor Kiba. You’ll study law, state protocol, anything that keeps the council quiet. You’ll learn faster than they expect.” He reached out, brushing ash fromMirel’s sleeve. “She’ll help you find your voice again. You’ll need it.”
Mirel shook his head faintly. “I don’t.”
“You will,” Kylix interrupted, his tone gentler than the words. “You don’t have to speak for them. Only when you choose.”
For a moment, the air eased between them, a silence that didn’t demand. Kylix’s smile softened, almost human. “They’ll call it education,” Kylix said, the edge of authority creeping back into his tone. “I call it preparation, protocol and law that will make you useful to me.”
His expression stayed stern for a heartbeat, then softened into a brief, amused wink.
Mirel blinked. “Useful how?”
“You’ll find out,” Kylix murmured, the smallest smile curving his mouth. “When you’re ready.”
Once again, Kylix wondered what silence cost him. Why he held it so fiercely. He had heard hundreds speak, beg, pray, all their voices blurred into the same sound. Mirel’s quiet was different. It drew attention like music. He found himself wondering what it would do to him, hearing that voice unbroken, speaking his name.
“Thank you for today,” Mirel said, thin as breath. He hesitated, eyes glassy. “Mama.” A pause. “She knew me.” Frost climbed his lashes, glittering with each blink.
Kylix reached across the space between them, brushing his knuckles along Mirel’s cheek. He felt the temperature shift, the ice trembling beneath his touch.
I want to give you everything, his heart sang.
