Page 195 of The Mercy of Dawn

“Good gods,” he grumbled, “If you keep that up we aren’t going to make it out of here.”

She let him pull her hand into the water this time.

“Is that…a bad thing?”

“Considering I’ve been able to hear your stomach growling since you fell asleep last night? Yes.” Every trace of heat left Mikael’s face and his gaze turned appraising. “When was the last time you ate?”

Cyril blinked.

Mikael suddenly sounded an awful lot like someone she didn’t want to think about right now. She didn’t have an immediate answer for him either.

“I…” She swallowed thickly. “The day before yesterday, I think?”

“The day before—Cyril.” Mikael shook his head at her, running a hand through his damp auburn waves. “Let’s get dressed and see if we can catch lunch, then we’ll come back and you can have a proper bath if you want. Or…” He notched his fingers under her chin and fixed her with a wolfish grin. “We can come back and occupy ourselves in other ways.”

“Let’s start with food,” Cyril chuckled, because she was now acutely aware of just how empty her stomach was.

Mikael nodded his agreement and took the carved-in steps out of the bath, every proud, naked inch of him on display again until he wrapped a towel low on his hips. That was definitely the outline of a heart tattooed on his backside and a question for another day.

He held out a towel for Cyril as she stood there, waist-deep in the water, with her arms wrapped around her chest. He made an obnoxious show of turning his head away from her.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Cyril sighed as she ripped the towel from his hands and wrapped it around herself hastily. She skirted past him and back out into his bedroom to search for her clothes. The number of different directions each piece had ended up in was almost impressive.

“I think pain in the ass is one of my middle names.”

Cyril snorted. She believed that.

She had most of her clothes tucked in her arms, save for the underwear she still hadn’t located, when Mikael cleared his throat. He was standing by a half-open wardrobe, a glass vial in one hand and pants in the other.

“Cyr, uh—” A hint of a grimace crept onto his face. “You don’t…take a tonic, by any chance?”

“A tonic?” She stilled. “No, I…I didn’t think…I mean, I didn’t know we were going to…”

Oh, fucking fuck.

She was an idiot.

A complete fucking idiot.

Although fae weren't known for their abundant fertility, Cyril wasn't entirely fae and she still didn’t know the implication of that. But if there were a single damn thing she didn’t need to entertain the idea of…

“Don’t worry, I take one.” Mikael’s grimace softened into a smile. Her heart still pounded like a drum in her chest. “I think we’ll be fine, but you should too, to be safe. We can go down to the infirmary after and they’ll sort you out. Maybe Wren can look at your eye too.”

Her…oh.

Cyril touched her face.

Of course. The fucking black eye she was sporting, that she had definitely forgotten about, and wanted to keep forgetting about. It was easier to not think about anything else that existed outside of this little bubble of happiness she had in that moment.

Cyril just nodded and went back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Chapter 47

It was a miracle Cyril and Mikael made it down to the dining room with how little the prince seemed to be interested in keeping his hands off of her.

Just at the tail end of lunch, too, if the casual way Lars, Runa, and Astor were sitting back and chatting was any indicator. The smell of savory, fresh baked pastry hung faintly in the air in the dining room and had Cyril’s mouth watering as soon as they crossed the threshold.

“Afternoon, you two. Come to be fed and watered?” Runa smiled at them—no, she smirked—and tipped her head, and… Oh gods.