Chapter 13
Mikael
The room remained tense long after the guards departed to search for Beckett.
Mikael sat near the fireplace and felt as though the castle itself had shifted into something unfamiliar around him.
Exhaustion still dragged through his body in slow punishing waves despite the antidote working steadily through his blood, but it was not weakness alone that left him unsettled.
Confusion pressed harder with every conversation.
Nothing felt right, certainly not Dag. The longer Mikael watched his oldest friend, the more unease settled beneath his skin.
Lyra stood near the far wall with her arms folded tightly around herself as she tried unsuccessfully to mask both fear and exhaustion.
Although she still carried herself with stubborn dignity, he could see the strain beginning to wear through her composure.
She had spent the night imprisoned after watching Beckett vanish in terror, and now she stood surrounded by the same people who had accused her of attempted murder.
The realization sat poorly in Mikael’s chest.
“You will be given a room for the night,” he said at last, breaking the silence while turning toward one of the servants lingering near the doorway. “Somewhere warm. You’ll not be returning to the dungeon.”
Lyra blinked, visibly startled by the unexpected kindness.
“And in the morning,” Mikael continued before she could argue, “you can join the search. There’s no safe way to try to make the trip tonight. One way or another, we will find Beckett.”
For a moment she only stared at him cautiously, as though she did not quite know what to make of his words.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Dag made an irritated sound under his breath and crossed toward the sideboard where he poured himself a drink with sharp jerking movements that immediately dragged Mikael’s attention back toward him.
“You are not joining the search?” Mikael asked.
Dag glanced over one shoulder. “The guards can handle one frightened child.”
“He disappeared because your men arrested his guardian in the middle of a crowded market,” Mikael replied, his voice low but edged with warning. “He is alone somewhere in the snow.”
“And Lyra remains the prime suspect in your poisoning.” Dag took a slow swallow from his glass before adding flatly, “Forgive me if I’m not eager to waste the entire guard searching for her runaway brat.”
The words struck Mikael wrong instantly. His irritation surged hard enough that his dragon stirred beneath his skin.
“He is a child.”
“He is a liability,” Dag corrected carelessly. “If she poisoned you, he is useless to us.”
Across the room Lyra stiffened visibly. Mikael felt her fury mixed with fear and something dangerous tightened sharply inside his chest at the sight of it.
Dag noticed nothing, or just didn’t care.
“Though honestly,” Dag added with a humorless laugh, “the entire accusation that she was capable of such a crime suddenly sounds absurd to me.”
Martin looked up from the notes he had been writing. “You were the one insisting she be arrested.”
“I made the accusation,” Dag replied. “But now, I question it. Low-Life Lyra was never smart enough to poison anyone.”
Heat exploded violently through Mikael’s chest. His dragon surged awake with such savage force that Mikael physically flinched beneath it and nearly lost hold of himself entirely.
Threat.
The reaction stunned him. Never in all the years he had known Dag had his dragon reacted this way toward him. Mikael stared at him in silence while his pulse hammered painfully against his ribs. His dragon snarled beneath his skin with unmistakable hostility.
Protect.
The possessiveness wrapped itself fiercely around Lyra, who remained rigid beneath the insult even as she refused to lower her gaze.
Unease crawled colder down Mikael’s spine. Why now? And if Lyra hadn’t poisoned him, which he had absolutely no suspicion that she had, then who had?
Dag noticed this time. “Mikael?”
Mikael’s eyes narrowed slowly. “You just said she was not smart enough to poison anyone.”
Dag’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “I said—”
“I heard what you said.” Mikael rose slowly from his chair despite the weakness still lingering in his body. “So answer me this, Dag. If Lyra didn’t poison me… then who did?”
Silence stretched.
For the first time since waking up, Mikael watched genuine tension flicker across Dag’s face.
“It could still have been her,” Dag answered carefully. “Perhaps she had help.”
“But moments ago you sounded certain she was incapable of it.”
Dag’s jaw tightened. “You are twisting my words.”
“No,” Mikael replied quietly, “I am listening to them.”
Martin glanced uneasily between the two men while Lyra remained perfectly still while she watched the exchange with wary attention.
Mikael’s dragon had not calmed. If anything, the instinctive hostility toward Dag only continued growing stronger every second the man stood before him.
Fragments of memory flickered through Mikael’s mind again. Snow, horses, and voices shouting against mountain wind.
His gaze hardened. “What exactly happened on that mountain?”
Dag blinked once. “What?”
“The day I went missing. You told me very little before the antidote, but things are starting to come back now. So explain it to me properly.”
Dag set his glass down harder than necessary. “We were on a hunting expedition, you thought you saw something and had the men fall back. Then you just disappeared.”
“You let me go off by myself?” That certainly wasn’t royal protocol on any outing.
“You thought you saw something…” Dag stammered, clearly not liking the line of questioning.
Mikael snapped his fingers. “A snow cat. I thought there was a snow cat, didn’t I?” Finally it made sense why he kept seeing the animal in his brain.
Dag simply shrugged but didn’t say anything.
Lyra gave a soft bitter laugh. “That is a remarkably convenient version of events. A king just disappears off the top of a mountain and a week later, you know to come banging on my door.”
Dag’s head snapped toward her. “No one asked for your opinion.”
“No,” she replied evenly, “you usually preferred humiliating me rather than listening to me.”
Something cold twisted through Mikael’s chest. Another fragmented memory surfaced at the edges of his mind of school corridors, cruel laughter, and Lyra shrinking away while Dag mocked her openly. Worst of all, Mikael remembered himself standing nearby doing absolutely nothing to stop it.
Shame hit him unexpectedly hard, not merely because Dag had such a bully, but because he had allowed it. The realization left him feeling vaguely sick.
“How did you know to go to her home?” Mikael asked quietly.
Dag stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Gods, Mikael, we searched everywhere.” Dag threw one hand upward in frustration. “Her house was just one of many.”
Lyra laughed once under her breath, though there was no humor in it at all. “It really didn’t seem all that random. You already knew he was there. Of that, I’m certain.”
Mikael watched both of them carefully, increasingly certain that something far uglier existed beneath the surface of memories he still could not fully access.
Something was wrong. The certainty settled deeper into his bones with every passing second.
And for reasons he could not yet explain, his instincts no longer trusted the man standing before him.
Before the silence could sharpen further, Mikael forced himself to refocus. “None of this matters right now while Beckett is still missing.” He pushed himself to his feet fully despite the wave of dizziness that followed almost immediately, and Martin swore under his breath.
“You are in no condition to be joining the search.”
“I am going.”
“You can barely stand.”
Mikael opened his mouth to argue, but Martin stepped closer before he could.
“The treatment is working,” he said carefully. “Your cognition is already improving. Another night will make a significant difference. By morning, we can re-evaluate and see where you stand in your recovery.”
Mikael hated that the man was probably right. His strength still returned unevenly, his body frustratingly unreliable beneath him, and if Beckett truly was alone somewhere in the snow, becoming dead weight during the search would help no one.
Reluctantly, he looked toward Lyra.
“At first light,” he told her, “if the guards aren’t back and I am able, I will go with you myself.”
She studied him uncertainly for a long moment, clearly weighing whether she trusted the promise at all. Considering the memories slowly resurfacing between them, Mikael could not blame her hesitation.
Still, eventually she nodded once. “Thank you.” The sincerity in her voice unsettled him far more than anger would have.
That night Mikael slept poorly despite the antidote continuing to clear the poison from his blood.
His dreams circled endlessly between strange warmth and ugly memories he did not entirely understand.
Several times he woke with his dragon pacing violently beneath his skin while the same warning circled relentlessly through his thoughts whenever Dag entered his mind.
Threat.
Each time the instinct returned stronger. By dawn, Mikael had stopped dismissing it entirely.
Snow fell steadily beyond the windows, and Mikael had barely opened his door when raised voices suddenly echoed from outside his chambers.
He stepped into the corridor immediately.
One of the younger guards paled upon seeing him. “Your Majesty.”
Mikael’s stomach tightened instantly. “What happened?”
The guard hesitated. “The prisoner… she… she’s gone.”
Cold fury swept through Mikael so quickly that even the dragon recoiled beneath it.
“Gone where?”
“We don’t know, sire. The servant assigned outside her room said she slipped away sometime during the night.”
Of course she had.
Mikael closed his eyes briefly as understanding struck all at once because Lyra had never truly believed the castle would help her find Beckett quickly enough. After years surviving alone, she trusted herself far more than anyone inside these walls.
“She went back for him,” he muttered.
Martin appeared farther down the corridor already looking exhausted. “Mikael, if you rush into another snowstorm half-recovered, it will not end well.”
“She is alone.”
“And you are barely recovered yourself.”
Mikael ignored the protest entirely and continued toward the stairs while servants scrambled hastily aside to clear his path.
Because somewhere out there, Lyra was searching frozen roads and dark forests alone for a terrified child, and every instinct inside Mikael screamed that if he did not reach her soon, something terrible was waiting in the snow ahead.