30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

G oing to the barracks— alone— with the sole purpose of seeking Mikael may have been the most nerve-wracking thing Cyril had ever done, and she’d been thinking about his unassuming invitation all damn day.

During her quiet breakfast, and the much-needed ride she took with Attie afterward? Nothing but the question of why bounced around in her brain. Thankfully, no one else was in the dining room when she knocked over her tea. Twice.

When she’d spent an indulgent couple of hours bathing and trying to make herself presentable? Her thoughts went wandering right back to solstice night, and her hand went wandering with them. As murky as they were with lockmead haze, Mikael left her with just enough memories to sate that ever-growing itch.

And when Cyril went down to the archives, in a last-ditch effort to distract herself for a few hours before dinner? She got through precisely half a page of The Dark History of Purism in Reykr before her mind started rolling through every damn possible reason Mikael would want her to come to the barracks that early—not good reasons, either.

The scribes must have noticed her just stewing away in that chair by the stained glass, or the timing of Isa’s invitation to help re-shelve a few carts of tomes was the perfect coincidence. Not quite enough of a distraction to halt her spiraling thoughts completely, but they slowed to a less panic-inducing speed.

Now, though? Cyril was fucked .

Not quite twenty feet separated her from the propped-open barracks doors, and her palms were clammy. The silky, charcoal gray fabric of her blouse clung to her back too, and the muggy afternoon heat wasn’t entirely to blame for that.

She was grateful, now, that she’d persisted through the struggle of braiding her hair into the crown style Sebille taught her last summer. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but at least it was up and out of the way.

Cyril realized her momentary distraction had evolved into a full-on delay tactic as she stood there on the path, adjusting her blouse and pressing her hands along her hairline far more times than she needed to. Embarrassing, really, that she’d let herself get this flustered over something she had so little information on.

To hells with what Bron said about them never being disappointed in her, Cyril had let her hold on her faculties slip to an abysmal degree.

She forced a slow breath in and out of her lungs, pulled her shoulders back, and walked straight into the barracks.

Two steps past the threshold and the panic came back in full swing.

People were everywhere .

Some she recognized, sort of, but most she didn’t. And she realized then that the barracks were huge , and she didn’t know where Mikael would be, or where he even wanted her to go. She started scanning from one end of the room to the other, looking from table to group to—

“Good afternoon, beautiful!”

Cyril whipped around to where that familiar, feminine voice came from—Kaia.

What a fucking relief.

She strode over with a grin plastered on her face, and Cyril felt an immediate twinge of guilt.

“Sorry I never came by,” Cyril said with a grimace. “I tried looking for you all at the solstice party, but…”

Kaia just shook her head and slung her arm across Cyril’s shoulders. “No hard feelings. The boss mentioned you got pretty sauced, had a rough day after?”

“I…yeah,” Cyril sighed.

Lovely to know that was the sort of information Mikael was passing on about her to the guards. A nagging, itching part of her wanted to ask if the prince mentioned anything else about her, but Kaia cut in first.

“You know, I never asked you about your trip to Brynnhold. Did you get to do anything other than… work ?”

Cyril winced. “No. But I finally got to see a bit of the city at least, so that was nice.”

“Shit.” Kaia stared at her. “Had you not been yet?”

Cyril shook her head.

“Well, we would have taken you weeks ago if we knew!” Kaia squeezed her shoulder and grinned. “I’ll make sure we drag you along the next time a few of us sneak away for some drinks. The ale is so much better in the city, and some of the clubs are quite an experience.”

“I’d seriously have to sneak away.” Gods, Cyril didn’t even want to think about broaching that sort of conversation with Dion. He’d shut her down before she even got it out. “But I’d like that.”

Kaia gave her a bit of a curious look, but she nodded. “Good, we would too. Oh!”

Her eyes darted around the room, and she hooked her fingers in her lips, letting loose a whistle so shrill that Cyril winced. She may have had a lingering headache.

“Ari? Gunner? Pay up, you cynical fucks. I told you she’d show!”

There were a couple of grumbles and curses from the other end of the room, and a middle finger waved in the air. Cyril just blinked.

“Did you…?”

“Bet on you? Oh, absolutely we did. It’s our new favorite pastime.” Kaia chuckled. Her dark eyes gleamed with a bit of mischief. “Mika mentioned you might drop by for a little visit this afternoon, and those two arses didn’t believe him. But I did. So I bet them each five coppers that you would show up. And, lo and behold, I am now ten coppers richer, so thank you for actually showing.”

Cyril sighed and shot Kaia a glare.

The barracks were really just a repackaged version of the estate; the guards weren’t any better than the rogues.

“I’m honestly not sure if I should congratulate you or tell you all to go fuck yourselves.”

“Oh, I’d love it if you did both.” Kaia grinned and started moving, pulling Cyril along with her. “But come on, the boss is in his office with some of the boys. I’ll take you back there.”

Cyril had no control over the frantic rhythm her heart set into when she walked into Mikael’s office behind Kaia.

He fixed her with one hells of a fucking smile from where he leaned against the edge of his desk.

With his hair down.

And his uniform jacket unbuttoned.

And his hands slipped in his pockets.

Gods help her.

Kaia bumped her shoulder with a smugly cocked brow as she said, “Come grace us with your pretty face again soon, yeah? Doors are always open.” Cyril didn’t manage more than a stuttered syllable or two as Kaia looked from her to the two men lounging in the chairs pulled in front of Mikael’s desk. “Come on, boys. There’s still a whole rack of shields I need help with.”

The men grumbled and sulked out of their chairs. The one with short, blonde hair and a wicked scar along his jaw smiled and dipped his head at Cyril as he walked past. “Nice to see you again, Lady Cyril.”

Cyril didn’t have the faintest idea who he was.

But she smiled anyway and said, “Nice to see you too.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and a modicum of sense rushed back into her. She turned back to Mikael, eyes narrowed, ready to—

“ Gods, isn’t it disgusting how cute she is ?! I swear, if Mika isn’t fucking her already… ” Kaia’s voice disappeared down the hall and the flush crept back into Cyril’s cheeks.

Mikael looked at her with raised brows.

“Do not . I’m annoyed with you.” Cyril folded her arms over her chest and planted herself firmly in front of the door, willing every semblance of reason back into her body.

“Annoyed with me ?” Mikael, obviously, was skeptical, if his huff was any indicator. “Please, go on.”

“What kind of half-assed note was that this morning? Come see me at the barracks before dinner . You couldn't be bothered to give me any context? Let me know why ? You ruined my morning ride and my trip to the archives.”

He certainly didn't ruin her bath, but he didn't need to know that.

Cyril took a deep breath, and the insufferable prince smiled at her.

“You know, Cyril.” He took his hands out of his pockets and leaned back on them on his desk. “You could’ve just said you spent the whole day thinking about me.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I do. But, if you’ll let me defend my actions today…”

Cyril gestured for him to get it the fuck out already .

“One, I think I deserve a bit of credit for tidying up and tucking you in without waking you up. Two, I was half asleep when I wrote that, so cut me some slack. Three—”

“ Three ? You can’t be serious.”

She had the sneaking suspicion that Mikael might like to listen to himself talk as much as Dion did. And that was…concerning. Also endearing in the worst way possible.

Mikael was not impressed with that.

“I’m very serious. Three , if I had written that dinner tonight is just you, me, and my mother, I had a feeling you might not show up. And lastly—”

“Wait, why is it just the three of us?”

Cyril didn’t care if she was interrupting him anymore. She would have found an excuse out of dinner if she had known that beforehand. It sounded like a recipe for one hell of an awkward evening.

He sighed.

“Because my brother and his wife are gone, your uncle is apparently back in the city, and my father is busy. Can I finish?”

Cyril gave him a wary look but nodded.

“ Lastly , I also wanted to ask you something, and it felt a little disingenuous to just write it down on a note instead of asking you in person.” Mikael’s voice was far gentler than with his previous declarations, and her damn palms started to sweat again. “Does all of that sate your annoyance with me, or…?”

“I… It might.” Cyril gripped her arms and frowned at him. “What did you want to ask me?”

She was already rolling through a list of possibilities and—surprise, surprise—none of them were pleasant.

Mikael fidgeted, gripping the edge of his desk.

Fucking hells.

She was sure she’d never seen him look nervous before, and there was no realm in which that boded well. This was when he was going to tell her it was a mistake, right? Say that it wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t drunk, and ask her to keep her mouth shut about it?

She would’ve preferred a note, honestly. This was excessively cruel.

“On solstice…was that just drunk desperation, or are you actually interested?”

Cyril stiffened.

That was…not what she was prepared for.

The answer to that was something she knew immediately, but she was not ready to put any of it into words. She was certain she liked Mikael. A lot. More than made sense to her for how little she knew about him.

But she didn’t think he’d want to fucking talk about it.

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

“You won’t hurt my feelings or scare me off either way.” Mikael gave her a smile she assumed was supposed to be reassuring. It was not. “I was going to ask you last night, but it seemed like a pretty shitty follow-up to the whole dead girlfriend thing.”

“I…I forgot we talked about that.”

Cyril wrapped her arms a bit more tightly around herself. She’d handed him something so fucking personal and hadn’t thought twice about the implication of it. He had the upper hand in everything now, but that didn’t scare her like it should.

“What if I said the answer was both? That I’m…interested, and that may have influenced my drunk and desperate behavior?”

Tension slipped from his shoulders.

“Well, Lady Cyril , if that were your answer, I would say—” Mikael extended his hand to her, and she took it, letting him guide her over. The unease in his eyes gave way to a sort of frosty intensity that made her want to kiss him again. Badly. “—that I am very relieved.”

A smile passed between them that Cyril wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to properly articulate the feeling of. Her body thrummed with this warm and foreign sort of happiness that she didn’t want to leave. Ever.

“What happened to Wrath Incarnate ?” she breathed.

Mikael already had his fingers notched under her chin, his thumb grazing her lower lip. He lowered his mouth to hers, pausing when their noses brushed to murmur, “I’ll call you whatever you want, Cyril, as long as I get to kiss you again.”

That made two of them.

Cyril braced her hands on his hips, surging up on her toes, and didn’t hesitate to close that last breath of space between them. The rich, rumbling hum of appreciation that left Mikael sent any last rational thought of hers skittering and she nipped at his bottom lip.

The prince approved of that.

His tongue met hers with a consuming, needy sort of hunger and he flipped them in one fluid movement, pinning Cyril between the warmth of his body and his desk. Any fear she’d had of her solstice memories being tainted and distorted by all the damn lockmead went out the window.

All that heat, and need, and want, coursing through her body like wildfire? A thousand times more intense than she remembered. The feeling of his hand slipping across her throat, cradling her jaw? It sparked a tone of possessiveness that had her knees weak and her thoughts vacating.

She slipped a needy whine against his lips, and Mikael moved her like she was made of air. He hauled her up onto the worn wood surface behind them and tugged her legs around him.

The desk groaned and something metal creaked as Mikael leaned forward and ran his lips down her throat.

“Just a thought,” he whispered, and the three words turned her molten . “We could skip—”

“Boss? We— Oh fucking hells, really?”

Cyril didn’t recognize the male voice that came from the other end of the office, and her lust-addled haze may have had something to do with that, but she went deathly still.

Mikael’s eyes flared with shock before they narrowed. His attention snapped over his shoulder, a snarl peeled back on his lips. “In what fucking world do you not knock ? What. Do. You. Want ?”

“It can wait!”

The door clicked shut and Mikael swore a name that Cyril didn’t know.

That was probably for the best.

Mikael’s breathing was uneven as he looked at her with resignation.

“Sorry about that.” He squeezed her thigh before untangling himself from her legs and taking a step back. “We should get going, anyway.”

Cyril may have pouted.

“That wasn’t what you were going to suggest, was it?”

“No,” Mikael chuckled. He extended a hand to help her down and ran the other through his hair. “But we shouldn’t be late for dinner. My mother already isn’t impressed with us.”

“…Isn’t impressed with us ?”

She tensed, and Mikael’s grimace did nothing to help.

“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She saw us in the hall on the solstice.”

Suddenly, Cyril had no appetite.