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Before Ryneth could step away, Daven closed a hand around his and dragged him along at his side.
“I’m glad we understand each other, aethera.” Daven’s grip tightened. Ryneth tried to wrestle his hand free, but the grip was a vice.
Asshole.
Every time he pulled, Ryneth released static that snapped against Daven’s palm. That should have made Daven flinch, but instead he only grinned. It was infuriating.
“I like the way you look when you’re angry,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath stirred Ryneth’s hair. “It brings color to your face.”
“That’s because you’re holding my hand like I’m five years old,” Ryneth snapped. “People are staring.”
“I doubt they’ve ever seen anyone from Düren before. Are all the boys that pretty over there?”
Ryneth bristled, his cheeks flushing a hot, traitorous pink. Thank Light he was saved from responding as they entered the canteen.
The chatter of hundreds of students died instantly. That was because Daven didn’t just walk into the room. He paraded Ryneth past rows of seats like he wanted everyone looking.
“Moargan,” he called out, pulling Ryneth toward a large table at the center of the canteen. “This is Ryneth.”
Moargan looked up with a lazy, jeweled smile. “There he is. At last. We already came to meet you, but you slept through your own party. Welcome to Helion, Ryneth.”
“Thank you,” Ryneth mumbled, already deciding that this guy freaked him out.
Moargan sniffed the air, smile widening. “No need to be afraid. We won’t eat you.”
“Cut it out,” a lithe, black-haired guy said. His yellow eyes held Ryneth’s. Reaching out a hand, he smiled. “Don’t mind him. The Imperial family is used to behaving like arrogant pricks. My name’s Cyprian. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“Yeah, I—me too.” Ryneth realized it was true. The guy seemed genuinely nice.
Cyprian smiled. “This is my brother, Mirel”—a small man gave Ryneth a shy wave—“and Helianth, Imperial prince. He’s the nice one of the two,” he added, grinning when Moargan gave him a push, then grabbed his face and devoured his mouth in a bruising kiss that made Ryneth look away at once.
“Welcome to the Academy, Ryneth.” Helianth smiled, then held out a basket with what looked like buns. “Archer made tiganos. Want to try one?”
Ryneth didn’t know who Archer was, but aside from the coffee, they hadn’t had breakfast yet, and that wasn’t great for the nerves. “Um—yes, sure.”
“You must be hungry.” Daven’s thumb brushed Ryneth’s wrist. “I wore him out last night.”
Ryneth’s jaw tightened. Heat crawled up his neck at the memory and he had to keep his hand from seeking out the mark Daven had left on his throat.
“Don’t be shy.” Helianth slid the plate closer. “And don’t let that arrogant ass tell you what you can and can’t do.”
Ryneth hesitated, then reached out and took one. The first bite stopped him cold. Cinnamon bloomed across his tongue, sharp and warm at once, chased by a sweetness so clean it almost hurt. The pastry shattered softly between his teeth, light instead of dense, melting into something buttery and rich.
“Good—” he cut himself off, swallowing quickly. “That’s… Light. That’s really good.”
“Right? I remember my first time trying it. Tiganos are a typical delicacy from Helion.” Cyprian snatched two buns away, giving one to Mirel. “And Archer’s are the best. If you’d like, we can organize a breakfast sometime.”
Ryneth hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
If he was still here, that was.
“Well, now you’ve all met him.” Daven’s hand tightened on Ryneth’s shoulder, pulling him up. “Time to go, aethera.”
“But you just arrived!”
“Well, too bad. Ryneth is under my protection.” Daven’s smug expression glanced at the table before it settled on Ryneth. “He’s joining my seminar. Imperial Governance. Come on.”
Ryneth could feel the judging eyes as they left the canteen and headed for the large inner court.
