Page 94 of The Mercy of Dawn

Attie snorted again, and Cyril planted her hands on her hips.

“Fine. It’s your loss, you know, and—”

From behind her, a rasped rendition of a familiar voice asked, “Are you arguing with a horse?”

Cyril spun around.

Out of all the people she thought she might run into that morning, Prince Mikael was not one of them. Just the faintest glimmer of amusement sparkled through the dark shadows around his eyes. Someone got very little sleep last night.

He looked as rough as his voice sounded.

“What— Why are you here?” She blurted out. Graceful, like usual. “And I wasn’t arguing, I was…scolding.”

A wry smile tugged at his lips, and he cleared his throat.

It did nothing to help his voice.

“Scolding a horse. Right.” Mikael chuckled and pushed off of the stall he’d been leaning against. In his hand? Two apples. “I was told to make myself useful and bring these to the kind Lady Cyril.”

“Thank you.” Cyril tucked them carefully beside a book in the soft canvas bag she’d slung across her shoulders before leaving her room. With a healthy dose of skepticism, she said, “Did you come to ride?”

A wheezed laugh left him, and he leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“Gods, no. Don’t think I’d even make it up on one today.”

He raked a hand through his hair, and Cyril was clearly staring. She hadn’t even realized it wasn’t tied up—the loose, auburn waves hung just about his shoulders, half tucked behind the point of one ear.

Why did she know so many men with such fucking nice hair?

Entirely coincidental on the heels of their conversation the night before, right?

Cyril schooled her appreciative stare into something more appraising and said, “You sound like shit.”

“The lady is generous with her compliments,” the prince chuckled, and his eyes tracked her hands as she pulled her sad, limp braid over her shoulder and toyed with the end. “Truthfully, I feel like it too.”

“So if you’re hungover, and you’re not here to ride...” Cyril said slowly, Mikael nodding along until she stopped.

He blinked, and a sheepish look settled into his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. I’m here because I wanted to ask you something.”

Gods, this was painful. She didn’t have the slightest idea what the prince might want to ask her that would involve coming all the way to the stables.

“…Go on.”

“Would you like to join us at the barracks tonight?”

It was Cyril’s turn to blink at him.

“I…don’t see why not?”

“Good.” Mikael grinned and then winced, pressing his fingers to a split on his lip. Cyril didn’t want to know where he got that last night. “Apparently, the others consider you one of us now, and I came under siege for not bringing you yesterday. So…tonight?”

Cyril fought to contain her smile, but her mouth completely betrayed her.

She nodded and agreed, “Tonight.”

A social invitation, under the pretense of people wanting her there?

Cyril had never received one in her life.