Page 86 of Burning Ice
“Yours,” Kylix said.
Mirel’s answer was not a word. He leaned the bare weight of his wrist into Kylix’s palm. The mark flared, then cooled.
Milanov withdrew his hand. “Heir’s bond recorded.” His tone was simple. His eyes were not. He looked a little tired and a little relieved. “The city listens,” he added, almost to himself.
It did. Screens blinked in distant rooms and steadied. A fountain along the east terrace hissed and cleared. The lamplight over the inner bridge brightened a fraction, then returned. No one spoke of it. They all felt it.
Vandor moved to the shelf and set a cloth beside the bottle without being asked – a small, practical gesture. He did not look directly at Mirel. He stood beside Kylix like a wall set where it should be.
“Done,” Kylix said.
Mirel breathed out. The breath fogged their joined knuckles faintly, then melted to warmth.
Moargan let his grin back in. “Romantic, yes. Terrifying, more.”
Helianth’s eyes had gone bright. “Both can be true.” He sounded pleased by it.
Reina crossed and brushed Mirel’s shoulder with two fingers, light as a blessing. She did not try to hug him. She knew better. “Welcome,” she said.
Kylix’s father gave one short nod to Mirel. Then one to Kylix, the same weight. “Good,” he said. A verdict, not praise.
The fire popped. The room exhaled.
Kylix lowered their hands. The lace relaxed a fraction, still sealed. The mark held. He did not test it further. He did not need to.
“Inside,” he repeated, softer now.
Mirel’s mouth moved. The word did not come. He held Kylix’s gaze instead, eyes pale with the last of the cold.
“Enough,” Milanov said, not unkind. “Let the bond learn in quiet.”
The study seemed to agree. The light steadied. The air warmed by a degree no one named.
“Look at that,” Kylix murmured, stunned. “Even your ice knows who you belong to. Keep your palm right there. Ready?”
“Yes.”
Their hands started warming. The light from the lace pulsed once, slow as a heartbeat, then sank beneath the skin. The fire in Kylix’s veins eased, the frost on Mirel’s lashes melted to gold. For a moment they breathed the same breath. Heat and cold, perfectly even.
Kylix didn’t look away. “I shelter what is mine. I answer when called.” A pause, soft enough to cut. “I bring you inside before all else.”
Both Mirel’s eyes flared pale blue, coated with a thin layer of frost. “I stand with you. I come when you call.” A beat that measured a past life and set it down. “I don’t run anymore.”
Frost spiraled up his wrist, the two meeting halfway, the mark sealing itself with a hiss.
“He’s making it look romantic. Terrifying, but romantic,” Moargan muttered toward Helianth.
Finally, the material began to cool.
For a heartbeat nothing moved. Then Kylix exhaled, a short, sharp sound between a laugh and a growl. “We did it.”
He turned, grabbed the nearest bottle, and crushed it in his grip. Glass cracked. Wine and a thin line of blood hit the tiles. He didn’t flinch.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Helianth let out a low whistle.
“Let it burn,” Kylix murmured.
“It already is,” Mirel said, brave for a second. Then his knees gave out.
