Page 62 of The Mercy of Dawn

Cyril blinked up at him, suddenly reminded of just how cold, tired, and hungry she was. Snide comments and wandering eyes were not what she was in the mood for, even less so as some of the other King's Guard filtered into the room.

“And why wouldn’t I?” she challenged, folding her arms over her chest. Mostly for warmth, truthfully.

Mikael shrugged half-heartedly.

“It’s early, and no one actually enjoys running drills.”

Well, he was half right—it was fucking early. But as for the other…

“I enjoy them.”

The way his brows climbed in some sort of shitty amusement spoke volumes to just how little he believed her.

“We’ll see about that,” was all he said before he turned to the group of guards that watched them with less than discreet curiosity.

“Ari and Gunner, you remember Lady Cyril?”

Tension flickered in her jaw—Lady was not a title she bore with any amount of pride, and Mikael enjoyed wielding it whenever he could.

The two moon-fae men that she met during their string of large dinners offered her nods of acknowledgment. Both men were both friendly enough, but had kept to themselves during the dinners.

Ari, their captain, was a tall, reserved man with light olive skin and a mess of short, black curls. His warm, dark eyes always seemed to be on the lookout for something.

Gunner, if she remembered correctly, was a well tenured guard, and a complete contrast to Ari. Only a few inches taller than Cyril, he had a stockier build and sandy-brown hair that looked like it always hung in his light green eyes.

She willed a smile onto her face.

Mikael looked back at her and took a breath.

“Nolan, Kaia, Byron, Nikolai, Silas, Ellis.”

He motioned through the rest of the group with each name while Cyril returned each smile and nod and wave, but she was completely lost by the time he reached the end.

“Lady Cyril is visiting from Helia.” Mikael glanced between her and the guards, and the most infuriating smile tugged at his lips. “And apparently has a masochistic streak, so she plans to join some of our training of the recruits, entirely of her own free will.”

The group’s laughter covered up her petulant sigh.

She should have known this would be an uphill battle.

Gesturing towards the far end of the barracks, Mikael said, “Shall we? I think we’ve kept them waiting down on the grounds long enough.”

A few people grunted their agreements, and someone suggested they let them freeze their little asses off for a bit longer, before the others filed off through the building. Cyril fell in line close behind them.

The main hall they walked through was spacious, lined with dark, wood-paneled walls and a vaulted roof dotted with skylights. The walls themselves bore no shortage of weaponry and armor, housing everything from racks of shields that looked like they’d seen better days to decorative axes and glaives hung with bronzed plaques beneath them.

Of all the tables and chairs that filled the center of the room, laden with discarded uniforms and papers and leather blade rolls, no more than two seemed to match. Cyril wasn’t sure how a few of them were still even upright, with the conditions the legs were in.

The more she looked, the harder the budding ache in Cyril’s chest became to ignore. But she shoved away thoughts of that other place that also smelled like old leather and late nights.

It was not the time for pining after home.

At the far end of the barracks, a set of large doors gave way to another gravel path, and Cyril cursed quietly as the cool morning air again wrapped its claws around her.

When they reached the main clearing, well-appointed with striking dummies, ranged targets, and training weaponry, there were easily forty smiling faces waiting patiently. A mixture of men and women, much to her surprise, and not all of which were entirely fae.

Cyril hung back behind the King's Guard as Mikael addressed the trainees, giving some well-rehearsed speech about their accomplishments thus far, and the challenges they would still face. Apparently, they’d be lucky if half of them toughed it out to their alpine assessment the following spring.

A few eager faces fell at that revelation.