Page 136 of The Mercy of Dawn

Never mind dizzy, Cyril barely felt like she was in control of her own body. Her limbs refused to move, and blinking felt like it took an eternity. Distantly, she was aware of warmth radiating up through her chest, of her damp skin and the shirt stuck to her back.

She swallowed and nodded.

“You can…You can show—”

Her eyes drifted to the now empty spot on the sofa that Mikael had occupied.

She blinked.

“Right here.” Hands squeezed her shoulders, and she settled into herself a bit more. Mikael had moved right behind her, letting her lean back against him.

“You’re sure?” Runa asked, and Cyril nodded again.

She was sure for several reasons, one being that she couldn’t stomach that sad look in the queen’s eyes anymore.

Another was the emotions that seeped their way into her as she felt more tethered to herself. The strange, out-of-body happiness was being shoved cleanly out of the way by something dark clawing its way up from deep inside her.

Cyril needed to be alone.

She waited until Runa stopped watching her with wary eyes and tapped into Mikael's mind, to get up on uneasy feet and walk out onto the terrace. The cool evening breeze filled her lungs, and Cyril clamped a hand over her mouth and sobbed.

Well, Cyril certainly looked like her mother.

To an almost unnerving degree.

Mikael was sure his own mother had the best of intentions, but to show Cyril that, of all things… He didn’t feel good about it.

The room slid back into focus as Runa eased out of his mind, a lofty warmth seeping back into his limbs. Not as taxing on him as he was sure it was on Cyril, with how many countless times his mother had done it over the years, but it was still a sensation he didn’t enjoy.

He blinked, looking around and—

“She’s outside,” Runa said softly, all her attention turned to the patio doors.

His eyes found Cyril’s shadowed form standing out near the railing and, for fuck’s sake, he could hear her—quiet, heart-rending sobs.

Mikael went to stand, but his mother held out a hand.

“Go easy with her, Mika. If she’s anything like Dion, she won’t enjoy being coddled. She might need some time.”

Mikael was willing to test his luck.

He drained the last mouthful of his wine and walked out to the terrace.

“Cyril?”

She sucked in a shaky breath and stilled.

Mikael braved a few steps closer.

“I’d ask if you’re alright, but I think I know the answer already…”

“I’m fine,” Cyril mumbled.

Her sniffle and the way she wiped at her face with her sleeve said otherwise. Despite the overcast night sky dimming any moonlight, enough warm, orange glow flickered from the brazier to light up the glossiness in her eyes. She never pulled them from whatever she fixated on out in the gardens.

“No, you’re not.” Mikael brushed his hand on her back, and Cyril bristled.

Wrong move.