Page 251 of The Mercy of Dawn

That was the fucking Queen of Reykr at her bedside, fussing over her.

Cyril might’ve marveled at the notion, or at least thanked the woman, but that searing ache pulled through her chest again and stole her breath.

“You’re in pain still…” Runa said softly.

A statement, not a question, but Cyril nodded anyway.

Beside her, the mattress dipped as Runa sat down.

“Is it your leg?” she asked Cyril. “Wren said it's mended well, but maybe…”

Whatever Runa mused was lost amidst the furious rushing of Cyril's heart in her ears. That uncomfortable flush was working its way through her body again and the tether in her chest was just pulling tighter and tighter.

It was happening again.

She couldn’t breathe.

She rolled, curling up in a fetal position in hopes it might ease some of the tension. But it was fruitless. The pressure just kept building.

Those cold hands cupped her face, and the queen swore.

“She’s so hot, Dion. Let me—”

“No.” Dion’s voice carried gentleness, but still had a finality to it. “Cyr, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath, slow and—”

“My chest hurts,” she whined.

“Your chest?” Dion asked, but Runa was already filling Cyril’s vision and easing back the blankets.

“Show me where,” she said.

Cyril shifted back enough to press her hand low on her sternum. The pain eased a bit as she gulped down a few full lungs of air. Runa brushed her fingers over the back of Cyril’s hand.

“Oh…I see. Well—” The queen gave her an empathetic smile. “That should ease a bit every day, and you’ll feel much better once Mika is home. But you need to rest as much as you can until then, and try to stay calm, for both of your sake.”

The last thing Cyril wanted to think about right now was Mikael.

Of course, she would feel better when he was home. She didn’t need Runa telling her that. Just hearing his name made her chest ache a bit more.

“And if you’re alright with it, Cyril…” Runa exchanged a glance with her uncle, and he gave a resigned nod. “I’m going to help you sleep. No nightmares, okay? Just rest. I’ll get the kitchens to make something easy for you to eat, and wake you up in a bit. We can figure out some kind of schedule, but I think you should be asleep more often than not for a few days.”

Cyril didn’t have it in her to think or protest or do anything other than nod.

Runa’s hands touched her temples. She felt cold, then she felt nothing.

For the next few days, Cyril didn’t spend more than an hour or two at a time out of Runa’s sedation. She wasn’t sure if she could be more grateful for the queen’s particular flavor of magic.

Little more than mild aches lingered in her leg and her chest, now. And of all the bruises splattered across her body, only a ring of yellowish-green clung to her throat.

Honestly, without the pink, scarred flesh wrapping around her waist and a gruesome recount from Wren, Cyril would have doubted that she had almost been disemboweled the week before.

When she joked about owing Gunner a thanks for making sure her insides stayed inside, Dion and Runa didn’t find it as funny as she did.

But it was the truth, and humor felt like her most significant return to form yet.

A visit with any of the King's Guard just wasn’t something Cyril was confident she could handle yet. Even the few times Wren, Dion, and Runa all occupied her room, talking all at once, proved to be more taxing than Cyril cared to admit.

Normal, apparently, for her head injury, but still annoying as fuck.