Page 125 of The Mercy of Dawn

Cyril nodded. It was like Mikael plucked the thought right from her head.

In all the weeks she’d been in Reykr, it felt like they’d been away more than home. Not like she fully understood what the roles of a crown prince and his wife entailed, but it struck her as odd. Surely they had obligations at the palace.

“Honestly? No, not at all. Every couple of months, maybe. And even then, Astor doesn’t always go with her.” Mikael sighed and sunk back into the sofa. “He told my parents it’s because of all this bullshit with the murders. Reyna feels safer back with her people, and I get that, but…”

Royal family drama wasn't on the list of things Cyril thought she'd be in for today—or ever, really. It didn’t help that her pleasantly full belly was just whining at her to crawl back into bed and go to sleep.

“But?” she asked.

Mikael was quiet for a long, burgeoning moment, rapping his fingers along the sides of his mug.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that Reyna might be sick.”

“Sick?” Cyril blinked. “But why would she be leaving then?”

“Reyna’s village is apparently renowned for their healers, and their practice with old medicine. Or at least that’s what she’s always said. And I’ll admit, I’ve never been exactly…close with her or my brother.” There was a subtle bitterness in Mikael’s huff of a laugh that spoke volumes to the depth of that statement. “But something feels weird about it.”

“You haven’t asked your brother?” Cyril asked, because she was too far out of her element to offer anything helpful.

Mikael sighed. “No. He’s never alone while he’s here. And I’m not about to corner him coming out of a council meeting.”

“…Could you ask Reyna?”

To that, Mikael laughed.

“Have you tried asking her anything? It’s like talking to a damn wall.”

Cyril grimaced and drained the last dregs of her tea.

During her time in Reykr so far, her interactions with the soft-spoken woman were few and far between. They exchanged some quiet greetings and friendly smiles at a handful of dinners, and the princess even asked Cyril how she was enjoying her stay during a passing encounter in the archives. Cyril just thought her to be reserved and a bit shy, especially after she found out about the whole second language business.

But she could see where Mikael was coming from.

“Well, I hope she’s alright.”

Cyril couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be ill and have a murderer terrorizing your home.

“Gods, you and I both. If anything happens to her…” Mikael groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Astor will be a fucking mess, and I’ll be stuck covering his duties.”

Cyril said nothing.

It was clear Astor and Reyna were enamored with each other, as she supposed a husband and wife should be. But Cyril knew firsthand just how irrationally love like that could make people act.

“You know,” Mikael added, “I came here to give you a hard time, not to wallow in my impending doom.”

“Give me a hard time?” Cyril pulled the blanket around her shoulders taut and sunk back further into the corner of the sofa. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Why?”

“Why?” He laughed. Better than his groan of misery, she supposed. “Because you surprised me last night, Cyril. You hadn’t struck me as a virgin.”

She caught one look at the total amusement in his eyes and Cyril wondered if the sofa would be kind enough to swallow her whole.

“You don’t need to tease me about it…” she grumbled, and Mikael’s brows climbed.

“Oh, no, not teasing at all. Just surprised. You had a lot of bark for someone who’s never been…bitten?” The prince looked as uncertain as he sounded when those last few words came out of his mouth.

“That’s an awful analogy.” Cyril’s nose wrinkled, and Mikael just shrugged at her. “And it’s…it’s not for a lack of want, or trying, okay? It’s just difficult…”

“Difficult to find a man willing to take you to bed?” He scoffed as he sat back, draping his arm across the sofa back. “I have a hard time believing that.”