Chapter 9
Mikael
Pain dragged Mikael upward through heavy darkness in slow brutal waves. For several long moments he remained motionless beneath the crushing weight of exhaustion, unable to separate dream from reality as fragments of snow and warmth still clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind.
The sound of a door caught his attention. A castle door. He was home. His eyes opened sharply.
Light flickered across the ceiling above him but it was distorted by the haze still clouding his vision. Confusion hit almost immediately because he didn’t remember returning to the palace at all.
The last thing he could clearly recall was cold. Not ordinary cold, but the kind that settled deep into his bones while snow lashed against his face hard enough to blind him as his dragon raged uselessly somewhere inside his skull.
After that, nothing.
Mikael pushed himself upright too quickly, and agony exploded through his head hard enough to force a curse from his throat while the room tilted violently around him.
Movement erupted nearby.
“Your Majesty, don’t.”
A servant rushed forward with panic flashing across his face, but Mikael held up his hand. His dragon reacted instantly with savage hostility that surged through his chest so violently that he felt as though he’d been physically struck by it.
Mikael gritted his teeth hard enough to ache. Where had his dragon been?
“Get out,” he snapped.
The servant obeyed immediately.
Silence returned once more. Mikael pressed a hand against his temple and forced himself to breathe slowly while fragments continued slipping frustratingly through his grasp like water through open fingers. There should have been memories or explanations.
Instead there was only absence and blank spaces. Along with the absence of a person. A woman.
He couldn’t see her face clearly when he reached for the memory nor could he remember her name or voice no matter how hard he tried.
Only the impression of her lingered with strange intensity beneath the fog that clouded his thoughts and left behind flashes of gentle hands and the unmistakable feeling of safety that made no sense whatsoever.
Who was she?
The harder he pushed for details, the more his head throbbed in protest until nausea twisted sharply through him and forced him to stop before the pain became unbearable.
A knock sounded against the chamber doors moments later before Dag entered without waiting for permission. He appeared all broad-shouldered and composed as always despite the exhaustion lining his face.
“You’re awake.”
Mikael studied him carefully. Dag showed relief but it felt restrained somehow, dulled beneath something Mikael could not quite place. His captain bowed appropriately but there was tension in the gesture that immediately sharpened Mikael’s suspicion.
“What happened?” Mikael asked.
Dag hesitated. “You were found injured near the base of the mountain.”
“By whom?”
Another pause.
“A villager.”
Mikael frowned instantly. “That’s all?”
“You were unconscious when my men arrived.” The answer felt intentionally empty.
Mikael leaned back slowly against the pillows as he studied Dag with narrowed eyes while his dragon prowled restlessly beneath his skin. They were both growing increasingly agitated by the lack of answers.
“I remember snow,” Mikael murmured. “And a woman.”
Dag’s expression did not change, but something flickered behind his eyes quickly enough to catch Mikael’s attention.
“A fever dream,” Dag said flatly. “You were found in the snow.”
“No, I was not.”
The word came harsher than intended because even without memory, Mikael knew with absolute certainty that she had been real. He could feel it just as he felt like Dag was intentionally lying to him.
“Mik, you’ve been unconscious for some time. Dreams were bound to happen.”
“Why couldn’t my dragon heal me?” That question finally produced visible discomfort.
“We don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“The poison interfered somehow.”
Poison. The word struck hard enough to silence the room.
Mikael stared at him. “I was poisoned?”
Dag nodded once but didn’t say anything else.
Rage rose immediately beneath Mikael’s skin, but confusion followed just as quickly because dragon healing should have burned through almost anything short of poison.
“I want every physician consulted,” Mikael said coldly. “And send for the doctor who treated Sven of Stagholt after the Skelvarns poisoned him. Perhaps it was the same toxin.”
Dag exhaled slowly through his nose. “You’ve barely regained consciousness.”
“Do it anyway.”
The captain gave a stiff nod that looked far more irritated than respectful. The exchange unsettled Mikael more than he cared to admit.
Dag had served the crown faithfully for years, yet something about his behavior felt wrong now.
Not treacherous exactly, but inconvenienced, as though Mikael waking had complicated matters Dag would have preferred remain settled.
It lingered unpleasantly in Mikael’s mind long after the captain departed.
That night sleep came only in fractured restless pieces, and every dream led back to her. He woke each time with his pulse hammering violently against his ribs and an unbearable sense of loss clawing through him so fiercely it bordered on madness.
He searched every fragment of memory for her constantly, replayed blurred impressions over and over until frustration drove him into violent moods that left servants fleeing his chambers and guards avoiding his gaze altogether.
His dragon had become nearly impossible to control. Restless fury rolled through Mikael day and night as though the dragon itself were hunting for something stolen from it.
Or someone.
And through it all, Dag remained maddeningly useless.
The captain refused to elaborate on where Mikael had been found, how long he had been missing, or who exactly had saved his life. He only offered vague dismissive answers that made Mikael increasingly certain information was being deliberately withheld.
Eventually he stopped asking Dag altogether. Instead, he summoned the only person he trusted to move quietly through the kingdom unnoticed. He timed her arrival with orders for a mission that took Dag and most of the guards out of the castle.
Malaya arrived after sunset wrapped in a dark traveling cloak. She knew the castle well enough that no one even saw her enter his chambers. Her expression was already suspicious before the doors even closed behind her.
“You really should tighten security around this place.”
“I purposely got rid of security so you could sneak in,” he replied drily.
Unlike the rest of the royal family, Mikael’s younger sister had abandoned palace life years ago in favor of a quiet existence beyond the capital, preferring farms, books, and distance from politics over court games and royal expectations.
She tolerated the crown solely because Mikael wore it.
“You look terrible,” she observed calmly.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s usually true.”
Despite himself, Mikael almost smiled. Malaya crossed the room and studied him more carefully then, some of the dry humor fading as she took in the lingering exhaustion beneath his eyes.
“I’ve heard rumors that you were poisoned and sent for King Sven’s personal physician who treated him after his assassination attempt. Do you think someone tried to kill you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s one of the many things I need to figure out. I figured a doctor who had already encountered whatever is keeping me from healing might be useful.”
“Is Dag searching for whoever poisoned you?”
“He says he is. I’m still trying to figure out how I got hurt in the first place. I’ve been told that I led a hunting party the morning I went missing, but they came back without me even though none of the men knew what had happened to me. How is that possible?”
“And why didn’t they find you once you disappeared?”
“I know there was a blizzard, but other than that, I have no other answers.”
“Mik, it took them days to find you. You’re right. Someone absolutely had to have taken care of you or you would have died out in the elements.”
“That’s why I called you, Mal. Something has been off in Dag’s attitude, and I’m not sure I trust him right now. I may be overreacting, but my gut says I’m not, even without memories.”
“They’ll come back to you.” Malaya reached over and took his hand. “What do you need?”
Mikael hesitated only briefly. “I want you to find out what happened and who found me.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Dag won’t tell you?”
“No.”
“That alone makes me interested.”
Mikael leaned back slowly and ignored the dull ache that still lingered through his body.
“There was a woman,” he said quietly. “I can’t remember her face. I barely remember anything at all, but I know she was there.” He could feel a soft kiss on his forehead.
Malaya watched him for a long moment. Because she knew him better than almost anyone alive, her expression shifted subtly as realization settled in.
“This is serious,” she murmured.
Mikael looked toward the darkened window where snow drifted silently beyond the glass, while deep inside him his dragon stirred again with restless aching fury.
“Yes,” he said softly.
It was.