“I wasn’t aware I needed permission to sit,” I said before I could stop myself.
Kael made a low whistle. “Careful, little flame. You’ll melt his patience.”
Kaelith’s jaw tightened. For the briefest second, the air around him shimmered with cold, sharp enough that my breath caught. He reined it in with visible effort, drawing a steadying breath through his nose.
“Some fires burn out quickly,” he said evenly. “Best not to stand too close.”
Kael grinned wider. “Then it’s fortunate I enjoy the heat.”
I could almost hear the frost crack under the weight of their rivalry. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make every noble in the hall stare studiously at the floor. They knew a storm when they saw one.
Kaelith straightened. “Our father has called for council. You’re expected, Kael.”
“Ah,” Kael said with exaggerated dread. “The endless lectures on duty and decorum. Just what I needed to ruin a perfectly pleasant morning.”
“Pleasant,” Kaelith repeated. His tone made the word sound fragile, like glass about to break.
Kael rose, brushed a speck of frost from his sleeve, and winked at me. “Don’t let him scare you, little flame. He means well, in his own frozen way.”
“Kael,” Kaelith warned.
“Relax, Brother.” He gave me one last grin and sauntered away, leaving behind the faint scent of citrus and trouble.
The silence he left behind was absolute.
Kaelith didn’t move. Neither did I. The hall was emptying, courtiers hurrying away under pretense of duty, but all I could hear was the slow rhythm of my heartbeat and the faint hiss of frost reforming on stone.
Finally, he said, “He plays at things he doesn’t understand.”
I rose, forcing my voice to stay even. “And what things would those be?”
He looked at me then, really looked, and the full weight of that gaze made my throat tighten. “You don’t want to know.”
He turned before I could answer. But as he passed, the edge of his cloak brushed my sleeve, and every nerve in my body sparked like frost meeting flame.
He felt it too—I saw the minute pause in his step, the way his fingers flexed as if to reach back. But he didn’t.
He walked on, leaving a trail of melted footprints behind him, but he didn’t exit the room yet.
Kael’s laughter still lingered faintly in the air, but Kaelith’s silence drowned it out. He stood near the end of the long table, shoulders tense, every line of him drawn tight as a bowstring.
I stayed where I was, pretending interest in the crystal decanter before me. Its contents had frozen solid. Fitting.
“You didn’t have to dismiss everyone like that,” I said finally. “It makes people talk.”
“They were already talking,” he replied. His voice was calm, almost too calm—the kind of calm that was chilling.
I turned. “And now they’ll talk louder.”
He was watching me again, eyes cool gray under the frostlight. His stare felt like it cut through layers I didn’t mean to show.
“Does my brother amuse you so much,” he asked, “that you forget where you are?”
The question hit harder than it should have. “We were talking. That’s all.”
“Talking.” The word carried an edge. “Is that what you call it when he leans close enough for half the court to notice?”
I folded my arms. “If you’re implying—”
