Page 239 of The Mercy of Dawn

“Do you remember?”

Mikael’s knuckles brushed along her cheek and Cyril tried to swallow down the phantom taste of copper in her mouth, but her throat felt like it was full of shards of glass.

“The warehouse?”

Mikael nodded.

“I…” Fuck, her mind felt like broken glass too. Fragmented glimmers of memories strewn about that hurt like hells to piece back together. “What happened?”

“Well, you went into the warehouse on your own…” Mikael said slowly.

Fuck. She did, didn’t she?

She could remember the untrustworthy roof and that damn drainpipe. The endless rain too.

“And I’m not exactly sure what transpired after that, but Gunner and Ari found you in pretty fucking rough shape.”

Cyril wanted to laugh, because she still felt in pretty fucking rough shape, but a fit of coughs took hold of her lungs instead. Mikael had a glass of water in front of her before she’d even realized he moved.

It felt like the best damn thing she’d ever drank.

“Who attacked me?” she asked after Mikael had taken the glass and settled back down on the edge of her bed.

He hesitated.

“One of Reyna’s sisters. And…” Mikael looked so fucking conflicted. “Well, it looks like a lesser demon did most of the damage.”

Cyril’s eyes narrowed.

Her childhood was filled with tales of lesser demons, most of which ended in her being eaten by one if she didn't behave or finish her meals. But she learned quickly as an adult what a crock of shit that was.

“A lesser demon, here?”

“I know,” Mikael sighed. “Carinae is supposed to be too rife with environmental magic for them to survive, so they don’t stray far from the mortal lands. Not usually, at least.” He shrugged. “For every answer we got, a half dozen more questions popped up. But you don’t need to worry about any of that right now. You have a lot of recovering to do.”

She had so many questions, so many things that weren’t adding up in her mind. But the heavy undertow of whatever the fuck happened to her was already tugging at her body, muddying her thoughts.

Cyril couldn’t argue with him.

And truthfully, only one thing mattered right now. He was sitting right in front of her and she just wanted him closer. Cyril extended her sore and bruised hands towards Mikael and he took them with a smile so genuine she felt the corners of her own mouth lift.

Despite her lack of full lucidity, she could tell something was bothering him. His smile couldn't hide the tension causing the crease between his eyebrows, or the way his glacial eyes carefully studied her face.

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to get out with it or lie down with her, but Mikael said, “I almost lost you, Cyr. And I…” He blew out a shaky breath. “I realized that I’ve never—”

Mikael closed his eyes and swore as a set of knocks came from her bedroom door. He looked back at her with resignation and muttered something about privacy as he hauled himself off her bed.

Cyril heard Runa before she saw her.

“Sorry for intruding! I heard voices and thought I should check in.” The queen rounded an unimpressed Mikael, squeezing his arm. She grinned when her eyes landed on Cyril. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Like I got trampled…”

Runa laughed, a sound that did nothing to help Cyril’s now-pounding head.

“All things considered, Cyril, that is remarkably good.” Runa settled into the spot Mikael had just occupied on the edge of Cyril’s bed, giving her calf a gentle squeeze. “When Wren came by again yesterday to do more work on your leg, she said the progress on your injuries was promising, and you should feel substantially better every day.”

Cyril blinked.