Page 32 of The Mercy of Dawn

“—from earlier, as well, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted the drapes closed or not, so I left them open. I hope that’s all alright?”

“That’s perfect, honestly.” Cyril winced. “I’m sorry it was such a mess. I usually—”

Rika shook her head and laughed.

“It is my job, Lady Cyril, and truthfully, I have had to clean much, much worse many times before. So please don’t worry about that.”

“Are guests usually a lot of work?”

Rika’s eyes flared, and she nodded.

“Just the other week Their Majesties had a guest from the city.” She took a step closer to Cyril, lowering her already soft voice. “She wanted someone in her room at sunrise every day to put on her slippers for her before she got out of bed.”

Cyril blinked.

“Are you serious?”

Rika’s little chuckle brought a smile to Cyril’s own face.

“Painfully so. She would never sip from the same glass twice, either, and always wanted every one of her dozen dresses laid out every day to pick from.”

“She sounds awful.”

“A peculiar woman. But that is all to say, please do not worry about being a bother. We deal with worse regularly and—”

Rika’s eyes snagged over Cyril’s shoulder and she stilled. Just like that, her smile vanished, and she dropped her attention to the floor, her hands clenched in front of her.

“What is—” Cyril turned. “Oh.”

Hand in hand, the crown prince and his wife strode down from the doors. At least Cyril wasn’t the only one turning in early.

“Have a good night, Lady Cyril,” Astor said as they approached, wearing the same reserved smile that Cyril had yet to see leave his face. Reyna looked like she just wanted to go to bed, and Cyril appreciated that sentiment.

“Ah, you too!”

She looked back at Rika, whose eyes still hadn't left the ground, ready to ask what in the hells spooked her like that when she had an abrupt realization—the fucking gift.

“Thank you, Your Highness, for the gift!” Cyril called out down the hall, to where Astor and Reyna were nearly at their suite. She still didn’t know what the fuck the gift even was, but… “That was very thoughtful of you!”

From this far away, Cyril could only see Reyna dip her head in acknowledgment before Astor was opening their door and leading his wife in.

“I won’t keep you from your rest any longer, Lady Cyril,” Rika said, and it was like the casual playfulness Cyril had just heard in her voice never existed. “I’ll come by in the afternoon tomorrow to see if you need anything.”

Cyril blinked.

These people were fucking strange. Talk about hot one minute and cold the next. At least when Dion wanted nothing to do with her, it lasted a few hours at a minimum.

Rika was halfway back to the main doors before Cyril could think of anything to say. Instead, she shook her head and opened her door.

Inside her suite—now tidied and turned down as promised—Cyril pulled every drape shut, left her clothes piled on the floor, and crawled right into bed. The duvet’s weighty press and crisp, clean scent that saturated her senses had her lulled halfway to sleep in a matter of minutes.

She hoped the morning wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Chapter 8

Mikael was three-quarters of the way to freedom when his mother’s all too familiar lilt reached his ears.

The woman had the most uncanny ability to come out of fucking nowhere.