43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

C yril didn’t know what force of nature pulled her out of bed.

Guilt, maybe, that it was at least three or four days since she last took Attie for a ride. She knew the stables would see all her base needs well tended to, but they certainly didn’t have time to run every horse every day. And it didn’t feel right for the poor animal to suffer just because Cyril’s life had come apart in every way possible.

That was a trail of thought she tried not to dwell on as she bathed and dressed, making a half-assed attempt at making herself presentable.

Her eyes were still sore from just how much time she’d spent dwelling on miserable things since Mikael became the last in a long line of people to rip her fucking heart out.

The guards manning the residential wing door gave her the same sad, pitying smile as all the various housekeepers who came by her room. It was hard to not tell every single one of them to fuck right off with their pity, but a scant bit of manners felt like the only bit of sanity Cyril had left in her.

She mustered up a smile, waved back to the two guards, and trekked down the main stairs.

After breathing in nothing but the stale linens of her bed for days, the light waft of flowers and fresh air that swept up the staircase was almost overwhelming.

Not unpleasant, but it was stark.

For early afternoon, the atrium hummed with far more activity than usual. It didn’t look like it was busy for a good reason either. Not with the masses of guards standing about and the tension hanging in the air between them.

Not Cyril’s problem.

Or at least that’s what she tried telling herself until she noticed the density of guards and tired faces increased tenfold towards the archives and its wide-open doors. She’d never seen the doors left open like that before, or that volume of people moving in and out of the archives for that matter.

Cyril was halfway there before she realized it.

She wove through guards and lords and chittering courtiers, keeping her head down. There was a long list of people she did not want to see or risk making eye contact with. Kaia hadn’t been a factor on that list, but that didn’t stop Cyril’s eyes from going wide when the guardswoman stepped in front of her.

“Hey, stranger.” Kaia’s smile looked tentative at best, but her hazel eyes were appraising enough that Cyril felt uncomfortable.

A stranger, indeed.

It had been, what, a month?

An entire damn month since…

Since…

Cyril clenched her hands at her sides as she said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I just…”

Kaia’s expression softened, and she shook her head.

“Don’t apologize. We were all at the pyre, and Mika said you haven’t been feeling great since then, understandably.”

Mikael didn’t understand the fucking half of it.

“It’s been…hard.” Cyril didn’t know what the fuck else to say, but she desperately needed to change the topic. “Did something happen in the archives?”

Kaia pursed her lips and followed Cyril’s gaze toward the open doors. “Unfortunately, yeah. Hope you weren’t planning on spending any time there. A scribe went missing and, well…it doesn’t look good.”

Even though Cyril was certain her heart had shriveled and died weeks ago, it ached in her chest.

How fucking considerate of the universe to tell her that, yes, things could still get worse. She wasn’t even sure if she could handle knowing who it was right now, but she felt obligated to ask.

“Which scribe?”

“Ah, I can’t remember the name. But here, come with me.” Kaia’s hand was suddenly on her back, steering her forward through the last few feet between them and the archive entryway. “The others are sitting back there with Her Majesty.”

Cyril understood why Kaia said things didn’t look good.

A small lake of blood had soaked into the carpet near the first set of desks in the center of the archives. Rusty red drag marks snaked themselves back to the scribe offices.

She heard Isa’s wailing next.

It pulled her eyes over to the chairs by the stained glass, muted by the overcast sky, where the young scribe was being comforted by Runa.

Konnor sat opposite them.

That meant…

Cyril felt like she was going to be sick.

She stepped away from Kaia and the archive doors and walked as fast as her feet would take her. People and planters and damn walls kept coming up to meet her, and Kaia’s voice shouted after her, but she didn’t stop.

Cyril struggled to see through the tears in her eyes by the time she made it to the stables, but she kept them at bay. It didn’t stop the stable master from giving Cyril a scrutinizing look as she brushed past him with a tense “ Hello” and got straight to saddling up Attie.

“Lady Cyril,” Boone said cautiously as he ventured down the aisle behind her. “Probably not my place to intrude, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Cyril didn’t even risk turning around. She was hanging on by a fucking thread. Even Attie’s incessant nudging was wearing her down.

“Right.” He sighed heartily. “We’re all around if you need anything at all.”

Cyril waited until the sound of his boots scuffing on the ground nearly vanished before she led Attie out of the stable and mounted up.

When she cleared the hundred feet to the treeline, the tears came in full force, and she just kept riding.

All Cyril wanted to do was go home .

Back to the sun and the grassy fields, to the chores she hated, and dinners in the great hall she loved.

But that faraway place where she once felt safe was in ruins now.

The fleeting bit of tolerance Dion had for her was gone.

Ren and Tyr and all the others wouldn’t care either.

How could they, when Dion paid their wages and put a roof over their heads?

And Bron was fucking dead .

The only person who ever tried, who ever cared.

Gone. Wiped out of existence.

And even here, in the place she was desperate to forget the name of now, the prince couldn’t be bothered with her anymore. She’d been a fool to think he was different, that he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Dion. The same cloth as every other person who only tolerated her when it was convenient for them.

Cyril didn’t even bother making it to the glen before she led Attie off the path. She tied her lead to a low-hanging branch and found a tree to slump down behind.

Under the overcast sky, Cyril cried for hours.

And in those hours of sitting there on her own, under leaves rustling in the humid summer air, Cyril made a decision.

She was done.

Done with Reykr and Helia.

Done with Dion and the Kallans.

Done with the prince and the rogues.

Hells, she was done with Carinae.

There was nothing left for her here anymore, no purpose or calling or people. Nothing to tie her to this place.

So in the morning, before the palace truly came to life, she would leave. She would finally make good on those foiled plans from all those weeks ago in Brynnhold.

That night, she’d bathe and pack, and get her things in order.

She’d write a note for Runa too.

A braver woman would have told the queen face to face, but Cyril was weak. She was broken and tired and didn’t have it in her to talk to anyone anymore.

Well, no one except for Attie.

Cyril hauled herself off the ground and over to where she tethered her equine companion. The singular being who had truly been with her through everything , who never faltered or judged, or cared about anything.

She choked on a sob the moment the damn horse looked at her.

“I’m sorry,” Cyril whispered.

She wrapped her arms around Attie’s neck, nestling her face into her soft, black mane. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“They’ll take good care of you here when I’m gone, I promise. I’ll ask Runa and Boone to make sure someone takes you out and shares an apple with you, alright? You…”

Cyril had to stop to breathe.

“Thank you, sweet girl. For everything.”

Darkness had long since settled when Cyril finally pulled herself together for long enough to make it back to the stables.

She didn’t care that she’d assuredly missed dinner. All she wanted to do was go to her room and shut out the world now. As much as it fucking killed her to leave Attie, she had to do it.

The stable hand that met her at the gate to take Attie’s lead didn’t say a single word after she looked at Cyril. She just gave her a soft smile and nod when she thanked her. Cyril was grateful for that.

The hinges of the main stable door squealed as she pushed it open and—

“Oh! Lady Cyril, before you go.”

Against her better judgment, Cyril turned around. The stable master was jogging down the main aisle.

“Your uncle came by a while ago, looking for you. We told him you were gone for a ride but, uh…” Boone rubbed the back of his neck. “He was quite adamant that we send you to him after, said he’d been down in the royal offices.”

A reminder that, yet again, things could continue to get worse.

“Thank you.” Cyril nodded. She hesitated before she added, “Boone? If I have to go somewhere else, possibly for a long time, will you all take care of her?”

He looked confused as all hell, but nodded slowly as he said, “Of course we will. For however long you need.”

Cyril hoped he understood that however long she needed was going to be forever.

“Thank you. I…can leave some money for her care…?”

Boone waved her off. “Don’t worry about that. Go do whatever you need to do, for however long. Our coffers and stores are plenty full.”

A tight smile and a nod were all she could confidently give the stable master before she turned and kept on her way out the stable doors.

Dion was rock fucking bottom of the list of people she wanted to see, but she wasn’t sure she could handle his wrath if he found out she decided not to come.

So she went to the offices, but no one was around.

A patrolling guard told her he thought he’d seen Their Majesties and Lord Rhodea in one of the lounge rooms, so she went there next.

Lars and Runa looked surprised to see her.

Dion just looked annoyed from where he sat opposite the royal couple at one of the casual tables meant for playing card games. No cards in sight, though, just a bottle of hard spirits, a couple of glasses, and a spread of papers.

“Thoughtful of you, Cyril, to finally grace us with your presence,” Dion said flatly.

“I…I was out riding, I didn’t know you were looking for—”

“Sit.”

He gestured to the chair beside him, but Cyril shook her head. She did not want to be that close to anyone right now, especially not him, or Runa with the sad eyes she was looking at Cyril with.

Dion didn’t look impressed.

“No?” he scoffed. “Fine, don’t sit. I don’t care, as long as you listen to me. Can you do that?”

The way he spoke, like Cyril was so far beneath him she should feel lucky he was wasting his breath on her… This wasn’t going to end well.

“I can,” Cyril said slowly. “What did you—”

“Two things. One, and it should come as no surprise, you are done doing any sort of work for the guild. Ever. Here, Helia, it doesn’t matter. The guild will put a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, but you will have to find work elsewhere. Do you understand?”

Each word that came out of Dion stung, but Cyril nodded against every instinct in her body. Her chest was so fucking tight she wasn’t sure she could draw enough air to even speak.

“Good.” Dion shot back the remnants of his drink and poured himself another glass. “And in case you thought you could still sneak around and get in our way, I had all of your files pulled from the archives and destroyed. Not like anyone will spend much time there anyway, after what happened today.”

“You… You what? ”

Cyril looked to Runa for some sort of reassurance, but the queen’s eyes turned down to the table as she shook her head. Lars had his attention locked on Dion.

He actually did that.

It’s not like it amounted to much, but…that was all she had to show for her time in Reykr. Her notes from learning the old language with Tobias, from the hours upon hours he spent taking her under his wing that she could never get back. Her observations from the crime scenes, too. Every little loose strand of thought about the purists and the murders, and…

And Dion took it all from her.

“I don’t think I misspoke, Cyril.” Dion took a long sip from his glass. “Now, the second thing. No more riding by yourself, no more walking around the grounds on your own. You do not leave your room unless you have an escort and I know where you are going. Do you understand?”

Cyril stilled.

Did he think that was the sort of control he could wield? Her plans to leave aside. There was no fucking way—

“ Dion, ” Runa said quietly, but he ignored her.

Cyril was done.

She was so. Fucking. Done .

It took every ounce of courage, and maybe stupidity too, in her body for her to look Dion in the eyes and say, “No.”

“ No? ” Dion stood and took a couple of swaggering steps towards her. Shockingly, his drink stayed on the table. “I’m not sure what part of that wasn’t clear, Cyril, but—”

“I’m not doing it.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “ Excuse me? ”

“I don’t think I misspoke.” There was no way this would end well, and Cyril couldn’t find it in her to care anymore. One more showdown before she never saw Dion again. She just felt bad that Lars and Runa had to play witness to it. “No escorts, no telling you where I’m going. You can’t control—”

He stepped closer.

“Cyril, this is about your safety , so lose the fucking attitude.” She could smell the spirits on his breath now, and see the dark circles that clung to his bloodshot eyes. “This isn’t up for—”

“My safety? ” Cyril laughed bitterly. “Like you give a fuck about what happens to me. You just want control and you’re too much of a gods damned coward to admit it.”

Dion looked at her with such seething disdain that she wanted to fold in on herself. Cyril was shaking now, her heartbeat just a loud rushing behind her ears, but she held his gaze.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he bit out.

He moved to grab her arm, but Cyril shoved him away, harder than she thought she had in her. Lars scrambled out of his chair in her periphery and said something she didn’t hear.

“No, Dion! Fuck you —”

She never saw the back of his hand coming.

It hit her face with such a crack that her hearing thinned, leaving a muffled, high-pitched whine in its place.

Her vision blurred, a copper tang filled her mouth, and Dion had her slammed back against the wall before Lars grabbed hold of him. The impact rattled her bones and knocked the air from her lungs.

It had to be what getting struck by lightning felt like.

Everything was loud and quiet all at the same time.

Bile burned the back of her throat.

She was dizzy, and everything spun, and her fucking eyes wouldn’t settle on anything .

Cyril slid to the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, Runa’s voice cut through the haze Cyril swam in, the soothing warmth of the queen’s voice telling her to breathe.

Fingers touched her face.

She swallowed down that acrid, sick feeling and took a ragged breath. The room refused to slide into focus. Commotion and noise filled her periphery, but the faces blurred and the words jumbled.

“Can you look at me, Cyril?” Runa asked gently, her voice so much closer than it was before.

Cyril shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m dizzy,” she mumbled.

She didn’t know if Runa said anything else, but moments, or minutes, or maybe hours later, something cold and damp touched her forehead. When it moved down to her cheek, it burned like hell.

Cyril sat there for what felt like forever, struggling to catch her breath. Eventually, feeling seeped back into her limbs and a wicked throb settled into her face. The high-pitched whine in her ears eased too, and when she opened her eyes, Runa was kneeling at her side.

“I…” the queen started, her eyes wary and scanning Cyril’s face. “I think we should go see Wren in the infirmary and get you cleaned up. Then you and I, we can…” she sighed, “we can talk about what comes next, alright?”

What comes next .

Those three words ached .

Because there was no coming back from this, was there?

Dion finally crossed that invisible, finite line that he spent years toeing and pushing and taunting. How could she ever forgive him for that?

A couple of tears slid down her cheek as that weight took its heavy seat in her chest.

She shook her head.

“No…?”

Cyril’s voice wavered as she said, “I… I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Of course.” Runa’s face softened, and she rubbed Cyril’s arm. “Do you want to go to see Wren, or…?”

Cyril shook her head again.

“I need some air,” she said as she pushed herself up on wholly unsteady legs. If it wasn’t for the wall at her back, getting up on her own would have been out of the question.

Runa watched her warily.

“You’ll come find me when you’re ready?” she asked, her voice full of doubt that was entirely justified.

Cyril gave the queen a half-hearted nod before she wandered out into the hall.