Page 252 of The Mercy of Dawn

It came as a relief that the spritely moon-fae man Runa hired from the city to come and deal with Cyril’s hacked-off hair didn’t ask questions. He took one long, apprehensive look at her before he set about his task in total silence.

Dion and Runa both watched on with tentative curiosity as he worked, trimming and snipping away at Cyril’s hair until it was even again. The ends didn’t even skim the tops of her shoulders.

After the man left as quietly as he came, it was Dion who loosed a breath and said, “And we thought you looked like her before.”

A cursory look in the mirror hanging near her bedroom door told Cyril she had indeed become the spitting image of her mother.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

It didn’t help that she was still so fucking exhausted.

Whether it was a side-effect of the sleep Runa kept putting her in to stave off the nightmares and panic, or she was still in the thick of recovery, she didn’t know. But it took a concerted effort to travel back to where Dion and Runa were sitting by the fire.

She didn’t even stifle her groan as she dropped back onto the sofa and curled up against the arm. Dion pointed at the teapot on the table, but Cyril shook her head.

Food and drink were still iffy, almost as iffy as the entire notion of Dion waiting on her hand and fucking foot, as he had every hour she had been awake. Her fatigue was making her far more tolerant than she was sure she should be of him.

“It looks good, Cyril, it really does,” Runa supplied with a wistful smile that she didn’t feel like reading too far into. Cyril just gave her an awkward thanks and settled under the blanket that Dion draped over her. “And I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for certain, but it looks like Mikael and the others will be back in the morning. Quite early, I believe.”

Cyril’s back went rigid, and she felt a familiar ache in her chest.

“Tomorrow morning?”

She had refused to let herself think about it during her brief hours of consciousness over the last few days, but she missed the insufferable, arrogant prince.

So, so much.

Runa nodded, and she looked so damn happy.

“Tomorrow morning, and I’m sure he’ll come see you as soon as he can. All the families will have made it back too, so we’ll be going ahead with the pyres after sundown.” Runa brushed off her robes as she stood. “I should go be with Astor for now though. Do you want me to help you sleep now, or should I come back later?”

A few months ago, the idea of someone entering her mind and manipulating her like that would have been the most off putting thing Cyril had ever heard. Even though most people had magic running through their blood, the southern states regarded it with such unease. A thing to be neither seen nor heard.

Not the case in Reykr.

It was as casual of a gesture as Runa offering her a glass of water.

“No, thank you, I…I’d like to try things on my own tonight.”

Truthfully, if Mika was going to be home in the morning, Cyril wanted as clear of a head as possible. And it wasn’t like Runa could tuck her in and knock her out every night for the rest of her life, anyway.

Runa looked at her hesitantly.

“Alright. But you know if you change your mind…”

“I know where to find you.” Cyril smiled. “How is Astor doing?”

The long pause Runa took was telling.

“The illness in his blood is mostly cleared now, so I’m relieved about that.” She smiled sadly at Cyril. “Given the circumstances though, I would not say he is doing well.” And how could he be? All roads pointed to his wife being the catalyst for at least a dozen senseless and brutal deaths. “I’ll tell him you asked after him, though. It’ll mean a lot. He’s asked about you too, you know.”

“He has?” Cyril blinked. A log in the fireplace cracked, and she flinched.

“Often, actually.” Warmth settled back into Runa’s face that Cyril was relieved to see. Stress was not a look the queen wore well. “He sees how Mikael looks at you, and how you keep Mikael in check. Astor has a vested interest in seeing you make a full recovery.”

A stifled noise left Dion that sounded awfully like a laugh, and Cyril couldn’t help her smile.

Runa offered them both a quiet goodbye before she slipped out of the room. Cyril waited until she was sure the queen would be well out of earshot to turn and look at Dion.