Page 61 of The Mercy of Dawn

Cyril just hadn’t realized that them entailed Runa, Lars, and Mikael.

No one else.

Astor and Reyna were off visiting her family, and the rest of the guardsmen had all gone back to their usual evenings spent in the barracks or at home with their own families.

A private dinner for four with the Kallans was a bit more intimate than she was comfortable with.

Lars and Runa had been absorbed in conversation with each other almost immediately, leaving Mikael and Cyril sitting across from each other in silence. On and off for their entire meal, the prince observed her in a way that had her wondering why in the hells the dining room was so hot. It felt like every time she looked up that cocked head and glacial blue stare were fixed on her.

She almost wished he’d go back to asking her grating questions.

Cyril had eaten the rest of her meals in her room since then.

“I just prefer the quiet, and being alone,” Cyril added, as if she even needed to justify herself to Tobias.

“I understand completely.” He nodded.

“It reminds me though,” she winced, “that I won’t be around much for the rest of the week. There is training with the guard, and I think it runs all day. I might still come in the afternoons if it doesn’t, but—”

Tobias waved his hand.

“Train and rest, and don’t worry about this all for a few days. The books and I will be here when you are done.” He started stacking some tomes they had spread across the worktable. “It wouldn’t do you any good to be tired on your first day, either, so go get a meal in you and turn in.”

“Is that an order?” Cyril chuckled.

A sliver of amusement passed through his face.

“Why yes, Lady Cyril, it is.” Tobias jerked his chin towards the door. “Get a move on.”

Cyril did not need to be told twice.

She waved goodbye to Isa and Konnor—and mouthed an apology to Tobias when the youngest scribe yelled her goodbye back—and headed back up to her room. Dinner was already waiting for her there, along with a generous pour of wine, and she wasted no time diving into them both.

Then came the task of trying to fall asleep at a reasonable hour.

Even after laying out her base layers for the next day, and spending a bit longer than she should have sitting on her balcony, Cyril couldn’t sleep.

Mikael’s warnings about the training not being glamorous be damned. She was excited. He didn’t know the first thing about just how unglamorous the training she had received back home at the guild was.

The arrogant prick probably thought she wasn’t cut out for whatever was in store for the recruits, or that she’d turn tail as soon as she broke a sweat and got dirty.

Cyril looked forward to proving him wrong.

Chapter 16

Walking up the gravel path to the barracks under the full swing of sunrise, Cyril had little control over the excitement that hummed through every fiber of her body. She tried to school her grin into something neutral, tried to stop wringing her hands and fixing her braid, but her attempts were fucking useless.

Cyril was sure it would come back to bite her in the ass, but she hardly slept the night before. Buzzing and wide awake, she’d tossed and turned endlessly, and found herself up, dressed, and ready to go before the first flickers of dawn filtered across the sky.

She’d forced herself to wait out the hours on her balcony, watching the lake as those muted ripples of light reflected across its tenebrous surface. When the soft pinks and blues morphed into the warm hues of sunrise and the palace grounds stirred to life, she headed out to the barracks.

Through the propped open doors just up ahead, she could see Mikael doing the most mundanely normal thing she was sure she ever witnessed him do—tying back his hair. He wore what must have been the guard’s standard-issue base layers, all dark blues and blacks with Reykr’s sigil stitched onto the chest.

If his sullen expression was any indicator, the man was not a morning person at all.

Mikael cast Cyril a cool, appraising glance as she entered the main hall. Her excitement fizzled and died a miserable death as soon as the prince opened his damn mouth.

“You showed up.” His voice was low and flat, and his gaze drifted and lingered far longer than it should have—on the black, fitted layers she opted to wear, no doubt.