Page 204 of The Mercy of Dawn

The archives weren’t somewhere she dared step foot in again either, even though the guilt gnawed at her. But the place that once felt so safe and sacred held nothing for Cyril anymore. There was no purpose in her learning anything new now.

The only place she made it to with any regularity was the stables, to take Attie out for a ride every other day. She only lasted an hour or two out in the warmth and sunshine before the weight of reality would settle on her shoulders again.

Guilt.

Exhaustion.

Emptiness.

They all worked through her on some sickening loop, and she never knew which one would hit her first when she woke up.

The other reason she didn’t opt to venture far from Mikael’s room?

Fear.

Cyril was terrified of running into Dion, of what he might say or do, of the explosive confrontation she knew awaited them. She did not know where he’d gone to live out his exile, or if he was even in Reykr anymore. If Mikael knew, he said nothing, which was probably for the best. They avoided talking about most things that happened with her now-estranged family.

When she ran into Rendal and Tyriel a week ago, down in one of the service halls, they said nothing about Dion, and she didn’t dare ask. They just took turns hugging her, and said they loved her, that they would always love her no matter the bullshit that happened.

It felt like a goodbye she wasn’t ready for.

Cyril broke down after they left, just a heaped pile of rattling sobs on the floor on the way to the kitchens. She never found out who went to get Mikael. But the prince was there, picking up every broken and jagged piece of her like he’d done so many times now, and carrying her back to his room. Their room, he liked to call it, even though she still firmly maintained that she had her own. She just didn’t sleep there anymore.

Every night since the one she refused to remember the start of, she stayed in Mikael’s room. It was safe to say sharing a bed with him this time around was far more therapeutic than when he stayed with her after Bron’s death, upholding that chivalrous boundary he’d insisted on.

The sex was, well…Cyril didn’t have a point of comparison.

But it took her mind somewhere else, where she was content and carefree, if only for a little while. And Mikael never voiced any complaints about it. She figured that meant it was pretty damn good.

At night, after they’d had a few drinks with dinner, and a few more at the barracks, their joinings felt rough and carnal in the most cathartic way, driven purely by a need for release. Sometimes repeatedly. It was the mornings that were soft, sensual, and a little indulgent. Mikael usually left her ready to sleep for another few hours by the time he begrudgingly went to get ready for his duties.

And that toe-curling threat Mikael made on the very first night he brought her to the barracks? The one involving a desk and not being able to speak?

He’d made good on that threat.

Multiple times.

But that wasn’t why she was sitting in his office today, a few hours past noon and only an hour out of bed.

Well, she certainly hoped that wasn’t why he sent for someone to get her.

Kaia and Ari were here too, and all three of them looked like they’d been put through the wringer repeatedly. A sentiment she appreciated.

Mikael sighed from where he sat on the edge of his desk, scrubbing his hands over his face as he said, “Cyr, I know you haven’t wanted to know anything about, well…anything.”

She tensed in her seat.

“It’s not about Dion. He…he’s in the city, and I don’t think he’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

That wasn’t reassuring at all.

“Did…something happen?” Cyril looked from Mikael to Kaia to Ari. There wasn’t a lick of warmth or humor in any of their faces. Cyril hadn’t wanted to know about anything, but something wasn’t right, and none of them seemed to want to be the ones responsible for delivering the news.

“Mika…” she said.

“Two more bodies, in Brynnhold.”

A shaky breath slipped out of Cyril, and she whispered, “Two?”