Page 146 of The Mercy of Dawn

“What’s wrong?”

Fucking hells.

“Nothing, I just—” Cyril groaned and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

It wasn’t a lie, at least. Between her brutal hangover from the solstice and the last two nights of fitful sleep, ragged would barely describe how she felt.

“Less research, more sleep, kiddo.” Dion smiled at her and kissed her temple. “Some fresh air and sun might do you good too. I’m sure Runa would love to join you in the gardens at some point.”

Cyril tried not to roll her eyes. Mother hen Dion was always a taxing thing. She was sure Runa would love to, but Cyril wasn’t sure she was ready for a one-on-one with the queen anytime soon.

“I’ll go for a ride for now.” She got up and started stacking her papers and tomes. Dion gave a nod of approval. “Do you want to come with me?”

She knew the answer already and truthfully didn’t want him to, but for the sake of keeping up appearances…

“Ah, if only. Have to meet with the guard today, and keep everyone coordinated and apprised of what’s been going on. But I’ll walk with you to the stables.” He took a wary glance at her stack of tomes and the surrounding shelves. “Do you have to put these away, or…?”

“No, thankfully.” Cyril grabbed her stack of papers and Dion trailed behind her. “The scribes prefer them left on the desks so they can put them away. I just need to give these to Isa.”

“…Cyril, do you have the scribes doing filing for you?” Dion’s voice was quiet, but the amusement was plain.

Isa offered them both a warm smile and a wave as Cyril dropped off her papers at the main desk.

“No! I—” She frowned at him once they were out of earshot of the scribe’s desk. “They offered to keep everything here for me, so I can keep my notes organized and not always have to bring papers back and forth from my room.”

“Ah.”

They cleared the archive doors, and a wry smile tugged at Dion’s lips. Cyril could see him again, much younger, smiling like that as he talked to her father.

“Someone must have told them about the state of your room back home.”

“Wonder if anyone told them you’re a right pain in the ass,” she grumbled, and Dion laughed.

Chapter 35

Two evenings later, Cyril couldn’t get her damn hands to stop shaking as she saddled up Attie, alone in the stables well after sundown. Whether that was from excitement or fear, she didn’t know.

Both, maybe.

Communicating with Mikael while Dion was at the palace had been a monstrously frustrating task.

When Dion was occupied with meetings? Mikael was in attendance.

When she would finally see the prince at dinner? Dion was glued to her.

He’d apparently interpreted her inquiring after his whereabouts as a sign that she missed him, that she was feeling uneasy on her own.

That couldn’t have been any further from the truth.

Feigning indifference to the prince had been a monumental exercise in restraint, especially when he found every opportunity to fix her with a piercing stare or brush his leg against hers under the table. Cyril didn’t have the faintest damn idea how to navigate a regular relationship, let alone one that demanded secrecy.

She didn’t know how the fuck she ended up here.

When Cyril woke up that morning, the same day Dion was heading back to the city, she found a note slipped under her door. Addressed to Wrath Incarnate from one Prince of Darkness, it contained a set of very specific instructions in the prince’s handwriting.

The same instructions that now had her riding towards the palace gates, a cowl pulled up over her head, and a kernel of excitement blooming inside of her. The guards manning the gate let her through with nary a second look, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she found Mikael waiting down the road.

“You’re ready to go?” he asked her as if she hadn’t just shown up dressed and ready, on her horse.