Page 229 of The Mercy of Dawn

Mikael had been following along slowly, fixated on the brief flickers of gold as Cyril’s eyes fluttered open and closed.

“Did you—bone? Her leg?” He blinked at Wren.

That…no.

No, that wasn’t possible.

“Her femur is broken. Badly too.” They both glanced at the cauterized mess of flesh on her thigh. “It almost feels like force magic, but I…” Her eyes drifted toward the bodies strewn on the floor behind them. She shook her head. “I don’t know for certain.”

“Cyr, she’s…” Mikael blew out a slow breath. “She’s part nymph.”

Wren blinked at him before she stared back at her hands, shaking her head.

“Gods, of course she is. Malia…I forgot. Definitely force magic, then. There’s no other way. The poor girl, I can’t even imagine—” Wren’s dark brows climbed and her entire expression softened. “Hi, sweet thing, it’s alright. We’re almost done.”

Tears tracked through the crusted blood on her cheeks, but Cyril’s eyes were half open and drifting between Wren and Mikael. Her hand lifted from the thickening blood on the floor, her fingers flexing towards him.

Mikael took it without a second thought, pressing it to his face and kissing her palm, gore be damned.

The corner of her mouth quirked and her eyes fell back shut.

“Just going to get these bones started on healing and we’ll be done for now. But I have instructions for you, Your Highness.” Breathless, Wren sat back on her heels and started pulling her magic down through Cyril’s leg.

“Of course, anything.”

“Take her straight back to the palace, get her out of these filthy clothes and into a bath. I’ll send for some salve and bandages to dress her wounds once she’s clean. None of them should be open still, but they are raw beneath the surface and have much healing to do. Get some fluids in her and put her to bed.” That soft blue glow dimmed from the room and Wren let out a ragged breath. “Her body is so drained that it’s refusing to heal on its own right now. So I will come and see her tomorrow and do a bit more work if she still isn’t recovering by then. She needs rest though, and lots of it, alright?”

“Of course.” Mikael nodded. Wren could have asked him to do literally anything for Cyril, to aid her recovery, and he would have done it without question. “Is there anything else before…?”

He looked to Cyril as she groaned softly and shifted against the wall, but Wren just smiled and stood, saying, “Take her home now, Your Highness.”

Mikael didn’t need to be told twice.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Wren,” he said, easing a hand behind Cyril’s back. “She’s…”

Everything.

His entire fucking world.

But Mikael’s voice wavered, and he had to focus on breathing.

“No need for thanks, Mikael. I can tell how special she is to you.”

Wren didn’t know the half of it.

Just like Mikael had never truly known what precious cargo felt like until he was cradling Cyril’s half-conscious body in his arms and carrying her out of that fucking hellhole.

A tense, heavy silence swept through the commotion of the guards swarming the warehouse’s main floor as Mikael crested the steps up from the basement. Wren followed just a step behind, and with a flash of light and a beat of wings, she was gone.

Gunner pushed straight through to the front of the crowd and asked, “She’s…alright…?”

Mikael nodded, and it felt like the entire building released a collective sigh of relief for the woman who had become their barracks mother.

He motioned for Gunner to follow him outside.

“Can I…” Gunner swore and blew out a shaky breath. “Is there anything I can do? Here, the palace? Should I ride with you? I can—”

Mikael just shook his head.