The sight of Miles sitting in his chambers with a bare hand extended made Phoenix feel colder than ever. He didn't appear to notice the chill at all, which was worse than if he seemed ready to freeze. He looked like an impossible something in a story, not his father's son. A solid block of ice in his chest... Miles ignored Phoenix's approach as he concentrated on his palm, then smiled as a thin shard of ice formed above it. The ice spun in the air, trembled, and stretched its arms until it had formed an enormous, flawless snowflake.

It was breathtaking.

That was the snow that he, Larry, and Maya had traveled through when winter was still beautiful. It was more elegant than any gemstone, so perfect that he almost forgot how much he hated the season. For a few long breaths, Miles looked like he could be studying some particularly lovely rose in the palace gardens. His eyes had returned to warm raincloud grey, entirely human and enormously reassuring. He's in there, Phoenix thought, letting out a shuddering breath. He'd desperately needed to see this.

The snowflake rotated slowly above Miles' palm as light trickled down from the ceiling. The sun wasn't up, yet sunlight found its way in and was thrown into a thousand perfect shades by the flake. Red and blue and gold danced along Phoenix's vision. For a few seconds, all the colors in the world were in that room.

But only for that long. The snowflake burst larger as icy spikes ripped it apart and the beautiful prism became a dark, warlike shell. As his creation turned as harsh as a steel morningstar, Miles gestured and the flake tore through the room. It struck hard. If Phoenix weren't still wearing his breastplate, it would have cut him to the heart.

"My powers are growing," Miles said with satisfaction.

Wary, Phoenix wrenched the flake free. It broke apart in his hand. Nerves fluttered as he trailed his fingers over the punctures in his armor and pictured what that would have done to his unprotected flesh. "You should be glad I had my armor on, Prince Miles. You're not a killer. When I rescue you and you go home, I'd hate for you to—"

"I am home," Miles said. "And I am a killer."

"No," Phoenix said, risking another step forward. "You're not."

"Manfred told me." Edgeworth studied his hand before pulling back on its glove. "He gave me these powers and I was unable to control them. By this time, fortunately, I have overcome that weakness. When I kill, I will mean to."

Phoenix said nothing, though his mind worked fiercely. How should he approach this? There had to be some chink in this icy armor. Some flaw in that diamond downstairs.

"He was always assigned as my tutor for some subjects, but he should have taught me everything. He's a great man." Miles walked to one of the many windows. With the Guidestar straight above, the only directions were provided by the gates along the southern walls. He looked toward them and, out of sight beyond, the mountains and palace. "I was a fool in handling Deele and should have let him freeze their capital. I was wrong to criticize him in court. He's opened my mind to that error, and for that I thank him. But it took magic to finally pry the scales from my eyes. When it first filled me, I..." His eyebrows pulled together in concern. "I erred."

"How?" Phoenix carefully asked, coming up next to him.

"I remember... ice. Huge spikes everywhere, and..." He shook his head once. Rainstorm grey appeared in a flash, then moved back to cyan, but it was enough. When that grey had shown, a flash of agony had come with it. "I speared my father through the heart."

"No, you didn't." He is in there. He needs to know this. He wants to know this. "Manfred told me what happened, Miles," Phoenix said with emphasis on his first name. When Miles didn't protest, he continued, encouraged. "He told me that he tore out your heart and put ice into you when you were here. Until you reached this palace, you were fighting him." He nodded, smiling. "I saw your chambers in Angelos after he left and there was no ice in them! Snowflakes, that's all, but no ice spears! If you had lost control—"

"I remember killing my father. I remember losing control there." Miles' hands gripped the windowsill and frost spread from them. "I was in a panic and he—"

"He put false memories into you! Can't you see what's happened? He's trying to make you take the blame for what he did to your father! Make you think that you owe him something, make you do what he wants!" Phoenix slammed his hand against Miles' chest and felt it impact something hard. A chill spread up his arm as he touched the icy patch, even through Miles' clothes and his glove. "If he can put this into you, if he can change your heart, then what's to say that he couldn't make you doubt your own mind, too?"

Miles slowly looked down at Phoenix's hand. When he looked back up, Phoenix knew that he had made a terrible mistake. "You're touching me."

He jerked his hand away. "I apologize, my... my prince."

"My father is dead and so I am your king," Miles said, grabbing Phoenix's collar and pulling him close, "and to forget that again will mean your death." His eyes glowed blindingly bright. "I have let you exist on the courtesy of my patience, but I have no time for a love-addled peasant who thinks he is my equal in any way."

I don't know what to do, Phoenix thought in a panic. His mind and instincts had entirely locked up. He'd tried to connect with Miles and had only angered him. Trying to point out the contradictions between his memories and Manfred's words was dismissed. He doubted he'd ever get this close to the man again and all he'd done was to make things worse. Never in his life had he felt so alone, even when those bullies circled him, and the only person on his side back in those days was threatening to kill him now.

No.

There had been one more person.

Do it, Nick, whispered Larry's voice in his mind. Do it. It's stupid and risky and it's probably going to kill you and you have to do it.

Miles' chest moved, but no warmth escaped his nose or mouth as he breathed. His cheeks were dusted with ice.

We know the stories, Nick. We know how this ends. Do it. Do it do it do it do—

Phoenix lunged forward and kissed the man he'd loved ever since that royal procession. Miles was bitterly cold, but his lips still yielded like anyone's and were so, so soft. Reaching up with both hands, Phoenix held the startled prince's face between them and focused on sharing more love than von Karma could ever hate. You saved me. You guided me. You made me who I could be, who I was supposed to be. You're beautiful in every way a person can be and I am not going to let you die. Live. Live, please live, live.

Miles pushed him away so hard that Phoenix hit the floor. Curling into a ball and shivering as he felt more cold seep in, Phoenix looked up and watched. After touching his mouth in confusion, Miles stumbled backward, clutching his chest. Did it work? Phoenix wondered. He'd passed on some of Maya's spell to Miles, the same as he had to his mount, in the desperate hope that it could melt that block of ice inside him. That imaginary Larry was right; this did feel like some grand story, and in those stories a kiss could always save the day.

Frost swirled around Miles' hand and he slammed it against his chest, panting. "You... you..." He fell to his knees and Phoenix rose, hopeful. "You tried to kill me."

Hope withered. "No," Phoenix gasped. "No! I'm trying to save you, Miles!"

"Ngh." Miles jerked and more frost swirled, then dove beneath his jacket. His panting eased. "I could feel my chest being hollowed out."

"What?" Phoenix asked in horror. "No, that's not what I was doing! It's not your heart in there, and so you have to get that ice out!"

"I felt..." Miles' eyes closed. "Pain. It filled me." His mouth formed a single silent word. Phoenix was certain that Miles had cried for his father.

He misses him. He loves him. He feels! "Let me kiss you again," Phoenix said with determination and lunged forward.

Miles pulled back from him, hollow-eyed. "There's strange magic in you. I can't... I told you that I would kill you, Wright. But I..." His hands formed into clawlike curls, but opened again before more snowflakes grew. "I can't... I..."

As Phoenix grabbed for him again, giddy over his success, Miles slammed his boot against the ground and spears sharper than the one in the king's heart erupted at Phoenix's feet. "Stay back!" he ordered, inching toward the door. "Never touch me again! I'll cut you in half, slice off your head, freeze you and leave you for the wolves!"

"You don't mean that!" Phoenix laughed, even though the prince's eyes were glowing fierce blue. "Listen to yourself, Miles: you're feeling! Just let it happen and everything will be all right!"

A snarl warped that handsome face, then smoothed. "You're right," Miles said, visibly collecting himself. "I am feeling something."

"Miles?" Phoenix asked as he disappeared through the door. With a frown, he eased himself through the icy stockade and chased after him. "Stop! Let me help you more, and I can fix everything!" He had no idea where he was going, but the prince's footsteps were always just ahead. The palace was larger than it looked. By the time they returned to the courtyard, Phoenix was sweating beneath his coat.

"I am feeling the need to assert my rightful place as king," said the thing with Miles' face and, with one sweep of his hand, ripped the gatehouse apart with a blast of ice and wind. Phoenix's horse shrieked in terror, and louder still when frost began to creep up from its hooves. Phoenix could only watch in shock as his faithful mount froze to solid ice, forever leaping away from something too awful to escape. "Assert my right to the lives of every being within Angelos."

With one more gesture, his horse shattered into a thousand pieces, then blew away as snow on the wind.

"Touch me again," that thing said, and walked toward Phoenix, who scrambled to let him pass, "and I will kill you."

Phoenix watched him go, numb. When the snow whipped against him, it sounded like it was screaming.