Chapter 15
Mikael
Mikael had intended to be gone before dawn fully broke across the mountains.
Remaining inside the castle while Lyra fled farther from him with every passing hour had become unbearable in a way he could neither explain nor control.
He had scarcely finished putting his boots on when hurried footsteps echoed through the outer corridor.
The doors to his chambers swung open hard enough to strike the stone wall behind them.
Malaya entered first with the snow still clinging to the long braid that hung over one shoulder, while Dr. Martin followed several paces behind her.
“You should still be in bed,” Dr. Martin snapped immediately, his expression sharpening the moment he saw Mikael already dressed for travel. “I haven’t given my consent for you to travel yet.”
“You don’t need to,” Mikael replied while his attention had already fixed itself entirely on Malaya. Something in her face told him this was not routine information.
He didn’t read danger or betrayal. It was something else.
Malaya crossed the room quickly. “I returned as quickly as possible.”
Mikael stepped toward her. “You found information about Lyra.”
“You already know her name.” She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised? And yes, I did.”
The words tightened something low in his chest before he could stop it.
For the entire night unease had stalked him relentlessly because part of him had remained unable to silence the suspicion planted there by Dag’s increasingly strange behavior.
He had wanted to believe her innocent, yet his dragon’s relentless fixation on her had only made him wary of his own judgment.
He braced himself for hidden alliances or manipulation. He was fully prepared for proof that her kindness had merely been a carefully crafted lie. Disappointment had already started to build.
Instead, Malaya stared at him for a long moment as though deciding how best to deliver news she herself still struggled to understand.
“There’s nothing bad about her. Literally nothing. No evidence of deception on any level,” she said at last. “In truth, Mik, I could scarcely find anyone willing to speak about her without becoming emotional and all for the good reasons.”
Silence settled heavily through the chamber. Mikael frowned slightly. “Explain.”
Malaya removed several folded sheets from her satchel before continuing.
“The villagers describe her as the woman who quietly leaves food outside empty homes during winter shortages. Several families believed the church had been helping them until they discovered she had been using nearly all her earnings to buy flour, medicine, and firewood.”
Mikael said nothing.
Malaya continued carefully. “There are records from the village healer showing she spent weeks tending elderly residents during the blizzard three winters ago when half the younger men refused to travel the roads because conditions were too dangerous.” Her expression shifted subtly.
“One old woman told us Lyra nearly lost several fingers to frostbite because she kept walking between storms to deliver supplies.”
Something warm and painful twisted through Mikael’s ribs.
“She also fosters abandoned children whenever she can,” Malaya said quietly.
“Not officially, because she lacks money and status, but she helps out the foster system and has a social worker that she works with. Lyra is currently fostering a four year old little boy who was severely abused by his father after his mother died.”
Mikael took the papers from his sister. “I remember a little boy being there, but not much about him.”
The writing blurred for a moment and he sniffed before his vision sharpened again.
It contained a list of names and food purchases made locally by Lyra.
There were prescription notes and medicine accounts from doctors and the pharmacy.
There were dozens of thank you notes from villagers expressing their gratitude.
Dr. Martin gave a low grunt from the hearth. “This lady sounds dangerously close to sainthood. Most irritating woman I’ve ever heard of.”
But Mikael barely heard him. Malaya had been thorough and talked to dozens of people, none of them related other than their respect for Lyra.
His eyes moved slowly across the reports while something inside him unraveled with each new detail.
One thing he noticed right off the bat was nowhere within the pages did he find greed or ambition or manipulation.
There was no evidence of someone seeking favor or power, nor was there any indication that Lyra had ever attempted to gain influence from her kindness.
If anything, she seemed almost determined to disappear behind it. While the entire village was familiar with her, there was no talk of close friendships. She simply helped and moved on, with no lasting relationships where someone might feel beholden to her.
“I still have no idea how you ended up where she found you. I talked to several of your guards, but all they knew was you and Dag went on ahead and then he came back alone.”
“Where were we?”
“Top of the mountain.”
A cold chill prickled his spine. “You’re saying I fell off the mountain?”
“From where she found you, sounds like it. My guess is you started an avalanche and the snow cushioned you even as it tried to bury you. One of the guys heard her tell Dag that she saw your boot sticking out.”
“Talk about luck that she found me in time.”
“Add to that the fact that she could have exposed you immediately, especially once she figured out you had been poisoned, or even the fact that she knew the symptoms even if we still don’t know how you received the toxin,” Malaya said more softly as realization settled across his face.
“Think about it. The king poisoned and totally helpless inside a poor villager’s home would have brought her prestige beyond imagining. Instead she protected you.”
“The blizzard helped with that, though, right?”
“Come on, Mik. You know better than that. The weather had never stopped this woman before, but the fact that someone tried to kill you made her take things slow.” She held up her hands. “My opinion only.”
Memory flickered through the thinning haze. Memories of soft hands pressing cool cloths against his fevered skin and the faint scent of winter flowers. She had been a quiet voice speaking to him when darkness dragged at him too heavily to answer.
His dragon stirred beneath his skin at the recollection so intensely he had to brace one hand against the edge of the table.
Mine.
He exhaled slowly as another memory surfaced, not from the cottage, but from years ago. A younger Lyra standing alone while laughter echoed through crowded corridors.
Dag’s voice cutting through the noise and Mikael doing nothing but watching.
At the time he had convinced himself it was beneath him to interfere in childish cruelty, yet now, standing here with evidence of the woman she had become spread before him, the memory no longer sat comfortably inside his conscience.
He looked down again at another report describing how Lyra had sold nearly half her winter flower harvest last year only to use the earnings purchasing medicine for an injured laborer’s family.
A strange ache spread through him because he suddenly could not reconcile her with Dag’s behavior, his own by association.
His jaw tightened faintly. Something still didn’t fit. And Mikael no longer trusted that hatred to be simple cruelty alone.
“What about Dag?” he asked finally. “Did anyone mention conflict between them?”
“Avoidance,” she answered carefully. “Fear, once. Mostly from when they were younger. Several people implied Dag enjoyed humiliating her publicly, though no one would elaborate much beyond that. I got the sense that he was quite the nasty bully.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“But Lyra herself apparently never retaliated.”
Mikael stared into the fire. That somehow made the pit in his stomach worse.
His dragon shifted again, impatient and increasingly agitated the longer they remained separated from her.
Fragments continued surfacing of Lyra’s exhausted face beside the bed, the warmth of blankets tucked around him, her fingers trembling slightly while holding medicine to his lips despite knowing exactly who he was.
She had cared for him when she believed he might die, not because of obligation or reward. Simply because someone needed help.
Mikael abruptly reached for his gloves.
Dr. Martin looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You are still recovering from enough poison to kill three men.”
Mikael fastened the final buckle of his belt with calm finality. “Then I suppose it’s fortunate I’m difficult to kill.”
Dr. Martin muttered something deeply insulting under his breath while Malaya tried unsuccessfully to hide her amusement.
Malaya suddenly straightened. “Oh, and Mik. One more thing. The little boy that Lyra has with her, Beckett. His father is bad news and was suspected of killing the boy’s mother but it was never proven.
Like I said, he’s very abusive and almost killed his own son.
Lyra fought to get Beckett away from him, and he’s not very happy about it according to people I talked to. ”
The fear that he had heard while semi-conscious rose up in Mikael’s mind. Now it made sense. The urgency now pulled him toward Lyra with frightening intensity.
For the first time in many years, the king would ride not toward duty or war or obligation, but toward a woman he could no longer stop thinking about.