Page 22 of The Mercy of Dawn

“Runa, I am soaked—”

Runa, the Queen of Reykr.

She laughed at Dion.

“Like I care. Come here, you stubborn fool.”

Dion followed her order with so little resistance that Cyril just blinked at them. The man who never took an order, yielding with such ease to this soft-spoken woman.

“Miss. I’ll take your—”

Cyril went rigid when hands were suddenly on her, working at the clasps of her heavy over-cloak.

A slight woman, much shorter than herself, with hazel eyes and neatly tied blonde hair, eased the dripping cloak from her shoulders and slung it over her arm. She had to be staff, with the modest, pale blue dress and practical leather shoes she wore.

“Ah— Thank you. Oh, no. That’s—” The woman already had Cyril’s brooch undone, and she went stiff as a board. Handling by anyone, at any time, was not something Cyril enjoyed. “That needs to stay with—”

“Not a worry, miss. It is safe with me.” She smiled warmly at Cyril and dipped her head, taking a step back with an armful of sopping outer layers. “I will bring these to your room.”

Her room.

Cyril wasn’t sure if a whimper actually left her lips.

“And you…” The queen’s voice came from her right.

In hindsight, Dion may have had a point when they departed camp a few days prior. Now, facing the Queen of Reykr in her soft, flowing robes of silver and blue, Cyril’s fighting leathers and assortment of weapons may have been a poor choice of base layers.

If the queen took any offense, it didn’t show.

Runa stepped towards Cyril with that same grin still plastered to her face, double canines gleaming, and took Cyril’s hands in her own. They radiated warmth even through Cyril’s gloves. Eyes like fine crystal tinged with blue roved Cyril’s face, like Runa couldn’t take in the details fast enough.

“I have waited so long to meet you,” Runa said quietly, and something flickered in her eyes Cyril didn’t quite catch. She reached up and tucked a strand of dark, damp hair behind the point of Cyril’s ear.

The queen turned to her uncle. “She’s stunning, Dion.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Cyril felt her cheeks warm. Moon-fae were supposed to be dark and twisted people, but this woman exuded unsettling kindness.

Dion eyed her expectantly.

“It is nice to meet you, Your Majesty,” Cyril got out with no small amount of effort. It wouldn’t do well to piss off the royalty already.

“Likewise, dear.” Runa squeezed Cyril’s hands one last time before she stepped to the side and looked past them. “I did not want to make assumptions about where the three of you would like to stay. There are accommodations here and in the city, whichever you’d prefer.”

Cyril turned and watched as Tyr, Ren, and Bron glanced at each other, having one of those silent conversations that she fucking hated. Bron, as usual, spoke.

“The city, Your Majesty, will do us perfectly.”

“I thought that might be the case.” Runa smiled. “We’ll have your things brought down, and one of the guards can show you the way.”

Bron must have caught the pout that tugged at Cyril’s mouth, because he stepped up and squeezed her shoulders, saying, “Be good, dove. We’ll see you soon.”

At that, Cyril saw the queen’s smile grow.

“Now, before I send the two of you to your quarters,” she glanced between Cyril and Dion. “Come meet my family.”

With the thin strands of her attention tied up meeting a damn queen, Cyril failed to notice the modest crowd congregating in the palace entryway.