49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

T wo weeks passed and Cyril still hadn’t found it in herself to give Runa an answer.

The queen stressed Cyril needed to take her time in deciding if she wanted to renounce everything she had in Helia—which wasn’t much at this point—and become a ward of their family. But time wasn’t helping at all, because Cyril wasn’t any closer to knowing what she wanted to do than she was on that awful fucking day.

It hadn’t helped that the days sort of blended into one another. A normal thing, she supposed, for someone who spent most of their time sleeping.

Being awake meant treading dangerously close to having to process reality, and that wasn’t something she was fond of. It also meant having to find things to occupy her time, and that proved to be challenging.

After the weeks Mikael spent shirking his duties just to hold Cyril and all her broken pieces together, his backlog of work neared on offensive. It kept him tied up most days from breakfast until dinner, and Cyril didn’t have it in her to bother him often.

The archives weren’t somewhere she dared step foot in again either, even though the guilt gnawed at her. But the place that once felt so safe and sacred held nothing for Cyril anymore. There was no purpose in her learning anything new now.

The only place she made it to with any regularity was the stables, to take Attie out for a ride every other day. She only lasted an hour or two out in the warmth and sunshine before the weight of reality would settle on her shoulders again.

Guilt.

Exhaustion.

Emptiness.

They all worked through her on some sickening loop, and she never knew which one would hit her first when she woke up.

The other reason she didn’t opt to venture far from Mikael’s room?

Fear.

Cyril was terrified of running into Dion, of what he might say or do, of the explosive confrontation she knew awaited them. She did not know where he’d gone to live out his exile, or if he was even in Reykr anymore. If Mikael knew, he said nothing, which was probably for the best. They avoided talking about most things that happened with her now-estranged family.

When she ran into Rendal and Tyriel a week ago, down in one of the service halls, they said nothing about Dion, and she didn’t dare ask. They just took turns hugging her, and said they loved her, that they would always love her no matter the bullshit that happened.

It felt like a goodbye she wasn’t ready for.

Cyril broke down after they left, just a heaped pile of rattling sobs on the floor on the way to the kitchens. She never found out who went to get Mikael. But the prince was there, picking up every broken and jagged piece of her like he’d done so many times now, and carrying her back to his room. Their room, he liked to call it, even though she still firmly maintained that she had her own. She just didn’t sleep there anymore.

Every night since the one she refused to remember the start of, she stayed in Mikael’s room. It was safe to say sharing a bed with him this time around was far more therapeutic than when he stayed with her after Bron’s death, upholding that chivalrous boundary he’d insisted on.

The sex was, well…Cyril didn’t have a point of comparison.

But it took her mind somewhere else, where she was content and carefree, if only for a little while. And Mikael never voiced any complaints about it. She figured that meant it was pretty damn good.

At night, after they’d had a few drinks with dinner, and a few more at the barracks, their joinings felt rough and carnal in the most cathartic way, driven purely by a need for release. Sometimes repeatedly. It was the mornings that were soft, sensual, and a little indulgent. Mikael usually left her ready to sleep for another few hours by the time he begrudgingly went to get ready for his duties.

And that toe-curling threat Mikael made on the very first night he brought her to the barracks? The one involving a desk and not being able to speak?

He’d made good on that threat.

Multiple times.

But that wasn’t why she was sitting in his office today, a few hours past noon and only an hour out of bed.

Well, she certainly hoped that wasn’t why he sent for someone to get her.

Kaia and Ari were here too, and all three of them looked like they’d been put through the wringer repeatedly. A sentiment she appreciated.

Mikael sighed from where he sat on the edge of his desk, scrubbing his hands over his face as he said, “Cyr, I know you haven’t wanted to know anything about, well…anything.”

She tensed in her seat.

“It’s not about Dion. He…he’s in the city, and I don’t think he’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

That wasn’t reassuring at all.

“Did…something happen?” Cyril looked from Mikael to Kaia to Ari. There wasn’t a lick of warmth or humor in any of their faces. Cyril hadn’t wanted to know about anything, but something wasn’t right, and none of them seemed to want to be the ones responsible for delivering the news.

“Mika…” she said.

“Two more bodies, in Brynnhold.”

A shaky breath slipped out of Cyril, and she whispered, “ Two? ”

Mikael’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded.

“At the temple near the harbor, someone found them this morning. A priestess and a midwife. It’s…I mean, it’s fucked up beyond belief. They helped destitute women, ones that came stowed on ships from the mortal lands wanting better lives for their unborn children.”

“That’s awful…” Cyril said quietly.

More good people, more senseless deaths.

She was certain she should have felt something, anything , but her heart didn’t feel like it even beat enough for herself anymore.

“It is. And the temple, it’s…” Mikael rubbed his hands over his face again and blew out a slow breath. “None of that is for you to worry about, other than to please be mindful. We—”

“We need your help,” Kaia cut in, giving Cyril a rueful smile.

Mikael stared at Kaia and shook his head before he looked back at Cyril.

“Not in the city or anything like that, so don’t worry,” Mikael said, because he must have known what sort of tension was already creeping its way back into Cyril. “We need help here . Most of the King's Guard is being dispatched to the city on top of the royal contingents because it’s a fucking mess . But there just isn’t enough space at the city station, so everyone will be rotating through here. So…” His smile was half-assed at best. He looked as drained as she felt. “I need help here. Servicing weapons, keeping supplies stocked, directing traffic, and the like. I know it’s not glamorous, but—”

Not glamorous .

Cyril was certain he’d said those same words to her in some fever dream of a different life.

“Of course I can help,” she said. “Back home, I used to…”

It stung, just saying that, but a little sigh of relief swept through the room.

Gods, Cyril could do those kinds of tasks with her damn eyes closed. It felt like an eternity ago now, but she was useful once, playing her part in running a thriving, bustling place.

“I know.” Mikael nodded. The softness in his eyes carried words she was glad he didn’t say.

Kaia didn’t let her linger on that for long. She tapped Cyril’s leg with her foot, wearing the most pleading grin as she said, “You, uh, have any plans for the rest of the afternoon? We have so many travel packs to put together.”

“No plans, no.” Cyril forced a smile, and it felt tight, foreign. “I’m all yours.”

“Fuckin’ right you are.” Kaia grinned. “I knew we could count on you.”

“She means thank you,” Ari sighed and started steering Kaia out the door. “We very much appreciate the help. Everything is set up downstairs, so come join us whenever.”

Cyril went to follow them out, but only made it a few steps before Mikael hooked her around the waist and hauled her back. He tipped her chin up and chuckled when Kaia made the quiet gagging noise she seemed fond of making whenever Mikael got affectionate with Cyril.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No.” Cyril winced. “I…I haven’t been up long. But it’s fine, I don’t need—”

“I’ll go fix her up something,” Ari called out from the doorway. “Just head to the assembly room with Kaia, and I’ll bring it down to you.”

Cyril turned to thank him, but only caught his back as he disappeared down the hall. Kaia stood in the doorway, watching the two of them with a raised brow.

“Thank you,” Cyril said as she turned back to face Mikael, and he tipped his head curiously. As if he didn’t understand why she would thank him.

“Thank me ? Gods, no, thank you .” He clasped her face and kissed her forehead, then her lips. Kaia gagged again from the door. “You are a remarkably useful person to have around, I hope you know. And…” He leaned in, brushing his lips to her ear, and he whispered, “I’ll probably be stuck in here all day if you want to come by when you’re done. Just you.”

For as tired as his eyes seemed, just a hint of mischief flickered in them.

“See you then, Commander.” She smiled at him, probably more freely than she had in a while, and followed Kaia down the hall.

“You two are disgusting,” Kaia chuckled to her.

That haughty solo visit to Mikael’s office never ended up happening. Midnight had long passed when they finished the last of the packs to send out with the guard at first light, and Cyril only had a foggy memory of actually leaving the barracks afterwards.

The next morning though, she woke up fully dressed and curled up on top of Mikael’s bedding. The prince was sprawled out on his stomach beside her, still in his uniform.

For the first time in weeks, Cyril got out of bed before Mikael even stirred.

As she padded over to Mikael’s wardrobe, where more and more of her things seemed to live now, the first traces of morning light painted the room’s dark surfaces in a warm glow.

Despite the way her back and feet both ached, Cyril found herself smiling.

She couldn’t wait to go back to the barracks and feel that sliver of purpose again.