Page 179 of The Mercy of Dawn

He looked confused as all hell, but nodded slowly as he said, “Of course we will. For however long you need.”

Cyril hoped he understood that however long she needed was going to be forever.

“Thank you. I…can leave some money for her care…?”

Boone waved her off. “Don’t worry about that. Go do whatever you need to do, for however long. Our coffers and stores are plenty full.”

A tight smile and a nod were all she could confidently give the stable master before she turned and kept on her way out the stable doors.

Dion was rock fucking bottom of the list of people she wanted to see, but she wasn’t sure she could handle his wrath if he found out she decided not to come.

So she went to the offices, but no one was around.

A patrolling guard told her he thought he’d seen Their Majesties and Lord Rhodea in one of the lounge rooms, so she went there next.

Lars and Runa looked surprised to see her.

Dion just looked annoyed from where he sat opposite the royal couple at one of the casual tables meant for playing card games. No cards in sight, though, just a bottle of hard spirits, a couple of glasses, and a spread of papers.

“Thoughtful of you, Cyril, to finally grace us with your presence,” Dion said flatly.

“I…I was out riding, I didn’t know you were looking for—”

“Sit.”

He gestured to the chair beside him, but Cyril shook her head. She did not want to be that close to anyone right now, especially not him, or Runa with the sad eyes she was looking at Cyril with.

Dion didn’t look impressed.

“No?” he scoffed. “Fine, don’t sit. I don’t care, as long as you listen to me. Can you do that?”

The way he spoke, like Cyril was so far beneath him she should feel lucky he was wasting his breath on her… This wasn’t going to end well.

“I can,” Cyril said slowly. “What did you—”

“Two things. One, and it should come as no surprise, you are done doing any sort of work for the guild. Ever. Here, Helia, it doesn’t matter. The guild will put a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, but you will have to find work elsewhere. Do you understand?”

Each word that came out of Dion stung, but Cyril nodded against every instinct in her body. Her chest was so fucking tight she wasn’t sure she could draw enough air to even speak.

“Good.” Dion shot back the remnants of his drink and poured himself another glass. “And in case you thought you could still sneak around and get in our way, I had all of your files pulled from the archives and destroyed. Not like anyone will spend much time there anyway, after what happened today.”

“You… You what?”

Cyril looked to Runa for some sort of reassurance, but the queen’s eyes turned down to the table as she shook her head. Lars had his attention locked on Dion.

He actually did that.

It’s not like it amounted to much, but…that was all she had to show for her time in Reykr. Her notes from learning the old language with Tobias, from the hours upon hours he spent taking her under his wing that she could never get back. Her observations from the crime scenes, too. Every little loose strand of thought about the purists and the murders, and…

And Dion took it all from her.

“I don’t think I misspoke, Cyril.” Dion took a long sip from his glass. “Now, the second thing. No more riding by yourself, no more walking around the grounds on your own. You do not leave your room unless you have an escort and I know where you are going. Do you understand?”

Cyril stilled.

Did he think that was the sort of control he could wield? Her plans to leave aside. There was no fucking way—

“Dion,” Runa said quietly, but he ignored her.