Page 250 of The Mercy of Dawn

Everything went downhill from there.

With the sparse threads of her attention pulled every which damn way, Cyril missed the table in its entirety as she set her cup down. The porcelain shattered as soon as it hit the floor.

Chairs scraped, dishes clattered, and searing pain tore through Cyril’s ears. She clutched at her head as it pounded and that screeching ringing became unbearable.

It didn’t stop.

“Cyril, you need to—”

That agonizing sound was going to tear her fucking head apart…

And she…

“…Please, Cyr, just…”

She couldn’t fucking breathe.

The pressure in her chest wouldn’t go down, and the pull was just fucking merciless, holding her ribs in a vise. Her vision swam, gray and hazy, and something firm grazed her back.

Like stone.

A damp and metallic smell hit her then, like blood and death and rot and—

Nononononono.

Darkness slammed into her like a wall, and a painful rush of air filled her lungs. Hands gripped her face, fingers skimming her temples, and pulled her attention up—silver eyes, red hair.

Runa.

A wave of calmness forced itself through every fiber of Cyril’s body, loosening every damn muscle in her, until she felt like putty in the queen’s hands. Thick and tangible shadows swirled all around them, dampening every light and sound until the alarmed voices she could hear faded to broken whispers.

“…happened, D…like it or not…”

She took a few ragged breaths, and the furious beating of her heart eased.

“…no…she’s not re…”

Runa swiped her thumbs over her cheeks, pulling dampness with them.

Had she been crying? Her eyes burned like she had.

Cyril wanted to ask what in any of the fucking hells just happened, but all she rasped out was, “What…?”

“I think you panicked.” The queen’s smile was soft and empathetic. “You may have been too ambitious with your first excursion. That poor body of yours has been under so much stress, and still is, trying to heal.”

The lump in Cyril’s throat was painful to swallow down.

“I’m going to settle your mind a bit, alright?” Runa said, carding her fingers through Cyril’s hair. “And then Dion is going to bring you upstairs and put you to bed.”

Cyril nodded, and darkness consumed her.

Chapter 65

Cyril had no memory of leaving the dining room, but she was back in bed the next time she was treated to a moment of consciousness.

The room was dim and quiet, but it was fucking hot.

Or maybe she was the one that was hot, because Runa’s fingers felt like ice when they brushed over her forehead and swept her hair back. Her skin felt flushed and sticky, and…gods.