Page 142 of The Mercy of Dawn

She shook her head at him and gathered the tomes up in her arms. Mikael followed behind her as she wove out of the desks and back towards the doors.

“Isa?” she called out, the woman having made herself scarce again. “Is it alright if I take these two tomes upstairs? I’ll bring them back in a few days.”

A soft thud and a curse traveled down an aisle.

“Yes, yes, that’s fine!” Isa stumbled down, sticking her head out. “Have a good night Cy—Your Highness and Lady Cyril.”

Cyril was certain Mikael grabbed her around the waist and kissed her cheek as they walked past Isa just to see the poor woman stammer and zip right back down the aisle.

Chapter 33

“You like it here, don’t you?” Mikael murmured in her ear, and Cyril nodded. It might have been the doing of her third pint of ale, but if Cyril closed her eyes, it felt like she was back home.

Her earlier assumption about the barracks was largely correct.

The primary activity the off-duty guards busied themselves with the evening was indeed drinking. With a healthy dose of darts, card games, and a few other pissing contests sprinkled into the mix, of course.

The laughter and bawdy behavior saturating her senses was identical to the raucous symphony that rumbled out of the great hall on any given night at the estate. That familiarity, combined with the generous serving of ale placed in her hands the moment she and Mikael walked through the doors, did wonders to help her ease in.

“It’s like home,” she said quietly, eyes never leaving the current pissing contest unfolding between Kaia and two other guards.

Apparently, this was the part of the evening they usually migrated down into the throwing room to prove their mettle. A sizeable amount of copper had already changed hands.

Mikael just made a quiet noise of confirmation, tugging her closer to him.

The only difference, really, between the barracks and her home was that other than Bron or Ren or Tyr hauling her over a shoulder to put her to bed, no one at home ever came near her.

Not in the same way the prince did, at least.

From the moment they left a mildly awkward dinner with his parents—Lars was enthusiastic about their prospect, just as Runa had mentioned—Mikael was hellsbent on never not being in physical contact with her. Either his fingers were twined with hers, an arm sat wrapped around her waist, or, much to her horror, he was hauling her into his lap while they played cards.

The prince’s particular brand of possessive and public displays of affection was an experience Cyril had been wholly unprepared for.

The thrum of embarrassment she’d felt in the archives earlier paled brutally compared to what seeped into her when Mikael kissed her in the barracks, in front of everyone.

Not just a peck, either. No, it was a kiss that lingered with depth.

Her entire damn body flushed afterward, and Cyril drowned herself in her mug.

Everyone else got a laugh out of it, at least.

By the third or fourth time Mikael had tipped her head back and slipped his tongue into her mouth, Cyril may have found herself less worried that people were around and more annoyed that they had company.

Even now, as they stood against the back wall of the throwing room, watching knives of a concerning size fly toward targets on the far wall, the prince gave her no reprieve.

Just like when he came to her rescue at the state dinner, his hand sat splayed across her stomach. This time, though, he had his thumb hooked in the waist of her pants, and he kept her pulled back snug against him. Merciless heat had bloomed in her core even before he started pressing his lips to her throat, from the crook of her neck to the base of her jaw, and up along the shell of her ear.

The arrogant prince was out to drive her fucking mental.

“If you want to go upstairs at any point…” Mikael finally said, his voice a gruff whisper.

Cyril didn’t need any further elaboration.

She lifted her eyes to his and nodded. Mikael was steering her out of the room before she’d even fully set down her empty mug.

From behind them a voice she now clearly remembered hearing the day before called out, “For fuck’s sake, lock the door this time!”

A rumble of laughter and whistling chased them out of the room.