Page 238 of The Mercy of Dawn

Chapter 62

Cyril wasn’t sure if it was every nerve in her body being alight with discomfort, or the intense smell of rain that pulled her to consciousness.

Whatever it was, she wanted no part in any of it.

Her eyes burned something fucking fierce as she fought to will them open, a lovely accompaniment to the aching muscles she was becoming all too aware of.

“Mika?” she rasped as she tried to blink away the gritty blur in her eyes.

It had to be him, sitting in a chair beside the bed, with his face resting on his propped-up fist.

No answer.

Cyril blinked again, the dim room gradually coming into focus in agonizingly slow waves. The pale linens, the feminine wallpaper, the—this was her room.

Why in the hells…

“Mika?” she repeated, her voice little more than a scratchy whisper. She pushed up onto her elbows, despite the screaming protest of her arms.

That got his attention.

Mikael straightened up, his dark circle-framed eyes going eyes wide for just a moment before all of his features softened.

“Hey, wrath.” His voice was ragged, but his smile warmed something in the very foundation of her being.

She tried to push herself up on trembling arms, and he was there in an instant, easing her up and stuffing pillows behind her back.

The sudden verticality made her head throb.

“Is the window open?” Her neck hurt too much to bother looking for herself.

Mikael blinked at her and shook his head. “Do you want me to open it?”

“No, I—” The entire room felt like it shifted, and Cyril squeezed her eyes shut. “I smell rain…”

Not like a summer shower, either.

No, it smelled like a storm, like the very cusp of a torrential downpour.

The mattress dipped beside her and Mikael took one of her hands from her lap, threading his fingers with hers.

“Cyr, you, uh…” Mikael cleared his throat, and Cyril braved opening her eyes again. The uneasy look on his face was unsettling as all hells. “You had a head injury, like a really, really bad one. Amongst…other things.”

Her confusion must have been clear, because Mikael added softly, “You don't remember, do you? Being attacked?”

Attacked?

Her breathing became a little uneven.

She searched Mikael’s face for some sort of reassurance, but she only found worry there, in the tension in his jaw and the tight, sad smile he offered her.

Awareness crept its way up her spine.

Awareness that her mind fought to keep at bay, but it was there, clawing its way out.

Glimmers of blood and bodies, of pain and fear, and—

Oh gods.