Page 50 of The Mercy of Dawn

"These runes can’t be touched yet," Cyril asserted, standing up taller. The Rogues’ Guild Heir could bite back. “They need to be documented, exactly as they are, so we can compare them to the others.”

The prince’s glacial eyes narrowed.

“Right…” he sighed, turning back to his men. A point for Cyril. “You heard Lady Cyril. Move the body, but touch nothing else.”

His men exchanged a few words with each other before departing and Mikael turned, cutting Cyril a look so spiteful she struggled to not take a step back. She likely would’ve, if Dion’s hand hadn’t stayed firmly planted on her back.

The prince opened his mouth, nothing but a gleam of sharp canines, but a door down the hall creaked open.

“Mika?” A woman’s voice, sleepy and like a songbird, said, “Are you going to come back to—oh.”

She was a slight thing, with warm, olive skin and a mane of curly hair. Mortal, Cyril realized, as she tucked her hair behind a rounded ear. She looked utterly bewildered and was wearing a shirt that seemed…prince-sized.

Cyril felt her cheeks warm as Mikael swore under his breath. He scrubbed his hands over his face with one hell of a sigh before he trudged over and steered the woman back into his room.

Dion cleared his throat, and Lars just shook his head.

“Well, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” Her uncle squeezed her up against his side, giving her a wry smile. “Get yourself decent and start on the runes. I’ll send word to the boys that their vacation in the city is over.”

Cyril was on her last nerve.

In the two hours she spent carefully documenting the runes, the intolerable prince spent nearly an hour of it just hovering. He was dressed now, at least, his black and blue uniform giving a feigned air of respectability that nearly made Cyril laugh when he first came down the hall.

Sometimes he just leaned against the wall, watching. Other times, he paced behind her or around the runes at a slow, measured speed. More than once he nearly kicked or stepped on—entirely on purpose, she was sure—the paper and charcoal the archive’s scribes so graciously gave her to use.

Cyril wasn’t sure if his presence or the lingering whisper of blood and death hanging in the air was more off-putting.

Mikael said nothing the entire time, giving barely even a grunt of acknowledgement when she had the decency to say hello to him. For having a mother and father who were such polite, warm people, he was an arse.

Now, leaning back near a window, he cleared his throat, and Cyril’s last nerve frayed.

“Is there something I can help you with, Your Highness?”

She didn’t bother restraining the annoyance in her voice as she set down her charcoal and wiped her hands on her pants. She enjoyed quiet work like this, and he had ruined nearly all of it.

Amusement glimmered in Mikael’s eyes.

“Oh, me?” He chuckled, and Cyril clenched her teeth at the smug, grating sound. “No, no. I’m fine. Just observing.”

“You like to just observe, don’t you? Stand around and watch things you have no business being part of?” The words tumbled out of her a bit clipped, but based on the way his brows climbed, the prince knew exactly what observation she was referring to. “I’m sure you have far more pressing things to attend to now.”

Mikael pushed off the wall, starting that slow, infuriating pace again.

“My men are more than capable of carrying out their orders.”

Doubtful, Cyril thought, considering that four people had now died like this and his men did not have any leads.

“Your girlfriend, then?” Cyril waved a hand vaguely toward his room. “I’m sure she’d appreciate some attention after that rude awakening.”

“Girlfriend? Oh, no.” Mikael barked a laugh so rich Cyril nearly dropped the papers she was stacking with care. “No such thing. Just a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Cyril snorted.

She shouldn’t have expected anything less from him—he was an asshole and a pig, and, gods…he was just like Dion.

“Yes, Lady Cyril. Fun. I’d highly recommend you try a form of it someday. I think it would do you a world of good.”

Cyril needed to walk away, and she needed to walk away now. They’d only interacted like this twice, and he already knew how to get under her skin almost as easily as Dion did.