The sun was just starting to dip behind the jagged peaks of the Arcanus Mountains, turning the study into a mess of long shadows and orange light.
Miles was in the corner, obsessively checking a leather satchel full of resonance crystals. He looked like he hadn't blinked in an hour. Krystian, meanwhile, was sitting on the edge of the Prince's mahogany desk, swinging his legs and trying to figure out how to fit an extra loaf of honey wheat bread into his pack.
"You know, for a suicide mission, the food is pretty much boring," Krystian said, hoping to break the silence that had been stretching since the War Room.
Miles didn't look up. "It is not a 'mission for fun,' Krystian. It is a strategic strike against a dangerous cult. Every ounce of weight in your pack should be for survival, not... food."
"Hey, morale is a survival tool," Krystian countered, finally stuffing the bread in. He hopped off the desk and walked over to Miles. Up close, the Prince looked like he was vibrating. His fingers were stiff as he tried to secure a buckle. "Prince. Seriously. You're going to snap a strap if you pull any harder."
Miles stopped. He let out a breath that sounded more like a shudder. "I am fine. I am simply... cold"
"Right. Cold" Krystian said softly. He reached out, hesitating for a second before he gently knocked his knuckles against Miles's armored shoulder. "It's okay, you know. To be scared. Even the Ice Prince is allowed to have cold feet."
Miles finally looked at him. The clinical, "Sovereign" look was there, but it was cracking at the edges. "I am not scared of the Pact. I am scared of... the noise. The closer we get to the Heart, the louder it gets. It feels like a scream inside my head."
Krystian's expression softened. He realized then that Miles wasn't just being a a perfectionist. He was literally feeling the world break.
"I can't hear the scream," Krystian said, stepping a bit closer—well within those 'two degrees' of personal space. "But I can hear you. And you're breathing too fast. If you pass out before we even hit the secret tunnels, I'm going to have to carry you, and that's going to be really embarrassing for your legacy."
Miles let out a small, dry sound that might have been a laugh. "You are incredibly insufferable."
"It's my best quality." Krystian reached out and straightened Miles's collar—the one that had been bugging him since the meeting. His fingers lingered there for a second, right against the cool skin of Miles's neck. "About that meeting... you really stuck up for me. Even with your dad looking like he wanted to turn me into a rug."
Miles didn't pull away. He looked down at Krystian, his gaze flickering to Krystian's mouth before snapping back to his eyes. "You are my asset. I do not permit others to... devalue what is mine."
There it was again. That word. Mine.
Krystian felt a flush creep up his neck. "You really need to work on your phrasing, Prince. People might get the wrong idea."
"And what idea would that be?" Miles whispered. The room was nearly dark now, the only light coming from the faint blue glow of the crystals on the table.
Krystian felt his heart doing a frantic dance. "That you actually like having me around. Not just for the maps or the scouting. Just... me."
Miles took a half-step forward. The air between them felt like it was charged with static. "If I didn't like having you around, Krystian, I would have left you in the streets."
Before Krystian could process that, the door to the study creaked open. Tara stood there, dressed in dark traveling leathers, holding a lantern.
"The guards are changing shifts at the East Gate," she said, her voice low and urgent. "If we're going to move, we move now."
The tension broke like a snapped wire. Miles stepped back, clearing his throat and grabbing his satchel. "Right. The East Gate. Krystian, grab your pack."
Krystian blinked, trying to get his brain to work again. "Right. Packs. Tunnels. Saving the world. Got it."
As they followed Tara toward the secret passage behind the Great Frost tapestry, Krystian caught Miles's eye. The Prince looked back, and for just a second, the mask was gone. There was a look of raw, terrifying affection there that made Krystian's stomach flip.
"Hey, Miles?" Krystian whispered as they stepped into the dark, damp air of the hidden stairs.
"Yes?"
"Try not to freeze me if I trip. I'm sensitive."
Miles's voice came back through the dark, sounding just a little bit warmer. "I make no promises, Scout."