34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

T he next morning, Dion returned from the city. He came and found Cyril in the archives, where her scattered brain had her jumping between six different tomes on different topics with almost no relation to one another.

Under the heavy fog of sleep deprivation and a touch too much ale, little made sense. But Cyril was determined to find a kernel of something , even if it took her all damn day and night. She didn’t care if it was something to aid in the murder investigation or something she might give Mikael about his suspicions. She was desperate to contribute.

“You look like you’ve been...busy?” Dion’s voice was tentative as he pulled up a stool beside her.

Cyril groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Nothing makes any fucking sense. I think I’ve been through half the archives and haven’t found anything helpful.”

“Cyr, you’ve been learning another language, and cataloging for us. I’d hardly call that not helpful.”

Cyril cast him a narrow, sidelong glance from her palms. She wanted precisely nothing to do with a half-assed pep talk from her uncle.

Dion turned his attention to her shitshow of a desk.

He plucked one of her pieces of notepaper, turning it this way and that as he mumbled aloud what she had written. “Scales tipped…must be reset…cleansing…rune—”

Cyril tried to snatch it out of his hands, but Dion held the paper out of her reach, his eyes still roving her half-scribbled notes and drawings.

“Don’t,” she groaned, “I told you nothing makes sense.”

He cast her a look that had her sinking down into her chair.

“And I already told you about the elemental cleansing stuff, remember?”

Dion made a noise. “The stuff I told you not to worry about? That Ezra and the guard already dismissed?”

“…Yes.”

“The stuff that you are still evidently worrying about?”

She sighed.

“Yes.”

“Do I even want to know why you think the purists, this cleansing stuff, and Runa’s home have anything to do with the murders?”

“They—”

Cyril stilled.

Dion and the general be damned. Two of those had a connection. But the third…her brain just tried to forge a foolish and unsettling connection.

Sleep deprivation was really taking its toll.

“They don’t,” she lied. “I just…I don’t know anything about Reykr and I’m trying to learn.”

Dion looked skeptical at best.

“I can appreciate that. Does anyone other than myself and the scribes know you are looking into all of these topics at the same time?”

Runa. Mikael. Bron. Hells, probably Tyr and Ren too, and a handful of guards.

“No,” she lied, again .

Fuck. Twice in one conversation.

“Good. It’s probably best if it stays that way.” Dion gave her a tight smile. She knew full well it meant there was no room for argument. “I can’t even begin to describe how bad it would look if the wrong person found out you were doing that. We’ve had a few things surface in the city that are promising, anyway, so I wouldn’t worry about getting yourself too wrapped up in this stuff.”

“You have leads?”

That was certainly news to her ears.

“Mm, we do.”

News that, of course, must be above her pay grade.

“I take it that means you won’t be here long?” she asked. At least she could get something personally beneficial out of him if he was set on keeping her in the dark about everything else.

“Probably until the day after next. Eager to get rid of me already?”

Yes.

Painfully so.

Because the longer he sat here beside her, dictating what she should and shouldn’t do, the more she thought about two nights ago.

About him and her parents sitting out on the back lawn, happy and carefree.

About the opportunity he seemed fine to rob her of.

Her anger started to surface again.

“No.” Cyril hadn’t meant to snap, but she did. “I just never know where anyone is anymore.”

Dion’s brows climbed, and he leaned back, studying her.

“What’s wrong?”

Fucking hells.

“Nothing, I just—” Cyril groaned and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

It wasn’t a lie, at least. Between her brutal hangover from the solstice and the last two nights of fitful sleep, ragged would barely describe how she felt.

“Less research, more sleep, kiddo.” Dion smiled at her and kissed her temple. “Some fresh air and sun might do you good too. I’m sure Runa would love to join you in the gardens at some point.”

Cyril tried not to roll her eyes. Mother hen Dion was always a taxing thing. She was sure Runa would love to, but Cyril wasn’t sure she was ready for a one-on-one with the queen anytime soon.

“I’ll go for a ride for now.” She got up and started stacking her papers and tomes. Dion gave a nod of approval. “Do you want to come with me?”

She knew the answer already and truthfully didn’t want him to, but for the sake of keeping up appearances…

“Ah, if only. Have to meet with the guard today, and keep everyone coordinated and apprised of what’s been going on. But I’ll walk with you to the stables.” He took a wary glance at her stack of tomes and the surrounding shelves. “Do you have to put these away, or…?”

“No, thankfully.” Cyril grabbed her stack of papers and Dion trailed behind her. “The scribes prefer them left on the desks so they can put them away. I just need to give these to Isa.”

“…Cyril, do you have the scribes doing filing for you?” Dion’s voice was quiet, but the amusement was plain.

Isa offered them both a warm smile and a wave as Cyril dropped off her papers at the main desk.

“No! I—” She frowned at him once they were out of earshot of the scribe’s desk. “They offered to keep everything here for me, so I can keep my notes organized and not always have to bring papers back and forth from my room.”

“Ah.”

They cleared the archive doors, and a wry smile tugged at Dion’s lips. Cyril could see him again, much younger, smiling like that as he talked to her father.

“Someone must have told them about the state of your room back home.”

“Wonder if anyone told them you’re a right pain in the ass,” she grumbled, and Dion laughed .