Page 71 of Burning Ice
He filled it again, the spoon clicking against the rim. The cat jumped to the table and sniffed at the sugar bowl before Archer shooed him away. They cracked, easy and short, and for a minute it felt like a life that could last. The smell of warm bread, the scrape of chairs, the sound of Cyprian’s voice, together they made the room feel almost safe.
“Helianth,” Archer warned. “Stay off.”
The cat ignored him.
Cyprian moved easily around the kitchen. “Coffee?”
Archer lifted a brow at Mirel. “Another cup?”
“I’d love to,” Mirel said.
They sat at the small table, Archer leaning back with his mug, Cyprian reaching for sugar, Mirel quiet between them but listening. Morning slid clean through the windows, laying light across the plates.
“So, what do you study, Mirel?” Archer asked.
“He’s still catching up,” Cyprian said. Then, after a pause, smiling, “You’re speaking more easily than before. Is that because of your classes, or because of Kylix?”
Mirel’s mouth tilted faintly. “Professor Kiba says it’s about trust.”
Cyprian blinked, the warmth in his face quiet and real. “Then I’m glad you trust me.”
“Oh, sorry,” Archer flushed. “I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” Mirel murmured.
Archer busied himself at the counter, the smell of frying dough thickening in the air. He slid something golden onto a plate and dusted it with sugar before setting it down in front of Mirel.
“Try that before it cools,” Archer said. “My one redeeming skill. That crazy fucker Aviel thinks his cooking’s better, but we know the truth.”
Mirel took a cautious bite. The dough cracked and gave, sweet and soft. He looked up to find Archer watching him with quiet amusement.
“Good?” Archer asked.
Mirel nodded, mouth full. “Better than good.”
Cyprian chuckled. “He’s proud of those. Don’t let him fool you.”
From the counter came a sharp voice. “Helianth, off the counter!” Archer turned, exasperated.
Cyprian grinned. “You know he never listens.”
“That’s true,” Archer said with a sigh.
Mirel glanced toward the cat. “Is he named after the prince?”
Archer didn’t answer, pretending to focus on the pan.
Cyprian laughed. “Mirel, you haven’t noticed? My dear friend here has had a crush on the Imperial Prince for way too long.”
Archer grabbed the nearest towel and flung it at Cyprian, laughing despite himself. “I have not.”
They lingered by the door longer than needed. Archer’s laughter followed them down the stairwell.
Outside, the air smelled of rain and smoke. Vendors shouted from the square, their voices sharp against the hum of transport lines. For a few minutes the city felt almost kind.
They crossed through Umbral Park toward the university, the gravel paths damp from earlier rain. Leaves clung to benches, and the first vendors were setting up near the gates, steam curling from their carts. Two Luminary guards walked a short distance behind, silent shadows in dark coats.
“I heard Moargan say something this morning,” Cyprian said as they neared the park gates. “Something about another Aureate being planned.”
