Page 66 of The Mercy of Dawn

“Kaia?” Mikael shouted toward where she was struggling to restring a bow—the fourth one to come apart in just a couple of hours. When Kaia’s eyes found him, he motioned for her to come over.

Cyril knew exactly what was coming next.

The prince and her uncle truly were two peas in a fucking miserable pod.

“Mikael, this isn’t her—”

“I have a title here, Lady Cyril. I would suggest you use it and check your tone, or don’t address me at all,” he interjected, with the sort of commanding edge that had Cyril’s blood boiling.

If this arrogant asshole thought he was in any position to dictate how she spoke, he had another fucking thing coming.

Mikael’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if to say, Understood, before he turned to Kaia as she approached.

She ran a hand through her short, snowy hair and sighed, “Yes, Commander?”

Flatly, he said, “I’d love to understand why Lady Cyril here felt the need to take it upon herself to teach one of your recruits how to work around their inadequacies?”

“Inadequacies?” Cyril stared at Mikael.

The poor man was in fucking training.

“I…I didn’t ask her to do that, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Kaia’s attention bounced between Mikael and Cyril before she narrowed her eyes at the prince, waving vaguely behind her. “I’ve been busy cleaning up after whoever did a fucking piss-poor job of stringing the bows last night. I should thank her for—”

“If it happens again, I’ll pull you from training.”

Kaia balked.

“She’s qualified, Commander, I don’t understand what your—”

“Not up for discussion, Gatlin,” he rumbled. “You’ve got an hour. Go eat.” Mikael turned and left without another word, leaving Cyril and Kaia to stare at each other in silence. When he finally disappeared out of eyesight, Cyril winced.

“Shit. I am so sorry,” she said as she gathered the bow and half-empty quiver her trainee had discarded on the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

The other woman shook her head.

“Not your fault.” Kaia looked in the direction Mikael walked and sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He usually loves training.”

It was Cyril’s turn to let her shoulders sag with a sigh.

“Oh, that’s definitely my fault. I think he hates me.”

Kaia’s features pinched.

“No…I don’t think it’s that.” She laughed and shook her head. “Honestly, chances are his bed’s been cold for a few days and he’s bent out of shape about it.”

Cold? Cyril certainly didn’t have any complaints about the temperature of—

Oh.

Oh.

Her cheeks heated.

Mercifully, Kaia clasped her on the shoulder and started steering her back to the barracks, saying, “Let’s get some food, yeah?”

As everyone filed into the barrack’s mess hall for lunch, Cyril took an opportune cut in from the gaggle of idiots to break away from Kaia and the other King's Guard. At the far end of the room, she found an empty table to eat her stew in a few moments of peaceful solitude.

Kaia shot her a few pointed glances, always subtly tipping her head towards the empty seat at her table, but Cyril just smiled and shook her head.