Chapter 17
Mikael
Dr. Martin walked Mikael and Malaya outside the castle. “Since you’re leaving and there isn’t much more I can do here, I’m going to head back to Stagholt so I can get there before nightfall. I need to restock my vaccine just in case.”
Mikael nodded once. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”
“I still think you’re pushing it too soon, just to be clear.”
“I know, and if anything happens to me, I promise not to hold you responsible.”
Dr. Martin looked unconvinced by that. His weathered face remained thoughtful for a moment before he sighed heavily.
“Your Majesty,” he said carefully, “I have spent most of my life around farms and predators, and one thing I have learned is that foxes rarely announce themselves.”
Mikael glanced toward him and Martin held his gaze steadily. “Meaning?”
“You should be careful who you trust in your castle.”
The words settled unpleasantly between them.
Mikael wanted to dismiss the warning immediately because the idea that danger had rooted itself inside his own court felt impossible, humiliating even, but too many things no longer fit together properly.
The poisoning and Dag’s increasingly aggressive behavior.
Worst of all, his dragon sensed something was wrong and dragons rarely erred when it came to danger.
“I know,” Mikael admitted quietly.
Dr. Martin studied him for another long moment before offering a faint nod. “Then watch yourself, Mikael. I’ll inform Sven of everything that’s happened here in case you need backup.”
With that, the physician turned to begin his trek back to Stagholt.
Malaya exhaled slowly once he was gone. “Well. That wasn’t ominous at all.”
Mikael didn’t answer because he could still hear the warning echoing unpleasantly in his head.
Fox in the henhouse. The truth of the warning came with all the red flags.
Malaya drove as they headed toward the village. Dawn had broken, but Mikael barely remembered leaving the mountain pass. His dragon paced beneath his skin while Malaya focused on the roads in grim silence. Cold wind lashed against the windows.
Every mile they traveled only sharpened the fury simmering through him because of… he wasn’t even sure what he was most angry about. Beckett was still missing, Lyra was frightened and vulnerable somewhere beyond his reach, and he had no control over anything.
They rounded the bend near the lower ridge and Malaya slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a van sitting half on and half off the road.
“What are your guards doing here?” she demanded as she flexed the stiffness out of her fingers.
“Looks like they’re changing a tire, but still a very good question.”
The guards visibly stiffened when Mikael got out of the truck. “Why are you not searching for the boy?”
None of them met his eyes immediately.
Mikael’s voice came low and dangerous. “Why are you returning to the castle?”
The captain swallowed hard. “Commander Dag recalled us, Your Majesty.”
Mikael stared at him for a long moment, saying nothing at all. Several guards shifted uneasily.
“Recalled you,” Mikael repeated at last, his tone quiet in the way that frightened men more than shouting ever could. “While a frightened child remains missing in the mountains.”
The captain looked miserable now. “We were told the village search had concluded and that the threat against the crown required immediate reinforcement at the castle.”
Threat against the crown.
Mikael nearly laughed at the irony of it. The greatest threat to the crown increasingly seemed to be standing inside its own walls.
His jaw tightened hard enough to ache before he finally jerked his chin toward the road behind them. “Return to the castle if that was your command. I will deal with Dag myself.”
Relief flickered too quickly across several faces. That alone told him enough.
The guards finished the tire change quickly after that, clearly eager to escape the oppressive weight of his temper, and their current situation. Mikael remained motionless for several seconds while Malaya studied him carefully.
“You’re thinking dangerous thoughts,” she muttered.
“There are dangerous people around me,” Mikael replied.
They continued on shortly afterward. By the time they finally reached the village, the winter sun was high in the sky as snow fell softly around them.
Smoke curling warmly from chimneys while people hurried from place to place.
Under different circumstances the place might have felt peaceful and ordinary.
Instead, Mikael could feel the tension the moment they exited the truck. Villagers who recognized their king quickly turned away or disappeared indoors entirely.
“They hate us,” Malaya muttered beneath her breath.
“They fear us,” Mikael corrected grimly. Which, he suspected, was worse.
Malaya pointed toward the bakery. “Coffee first before we continue threatening innocent civilians?”
Mikael almost declined before realizing he had not eaten or slept properly in recent memory and his dragon’s agitation had already left him exhausted. The scent of fresh bread drifting through the cold air suddenly became difficult to ignore.
Inside, warmth wrapped around them immediately along with the smell of cinnamon, butter, and strong coffee. Once again, the moment Mikael stepped through the doorway the quiet conversations inside died almost instantly.
Every face turned toward him, then away again. The woman behind the counter stiffened visibly. She folded her flour-covered arms defensively. “We’re closing.”
Malaya glanced toward the trays overflowing with fresh pastries. “You literally still have customers.”
“Now we don’t.”
Mikael ignored the hostility and stepped closer instead. He removed his gloves slowly so he appeared less threatening. “What’s your name?”
“Meren.” The look on her face said she hated answering him, but since he was the king, she dared not ignore him.
“Well, Meren, despite what happened recently, I’m not here to harm anyone,” he said evenly.
She looked unconvinced. “That’s what royals usually say before things become everyone else’s problem.”
Several villagers quietly murmured agreement.
Mikael forced himself not to react to the bitterness in her voice because, honestly, after what had happened to Lyra, they had earned the right to distrust him. Was this really what his rule had become? People afraid of him?
“I’m trying to find Lyra and Beckett,” he said. “I need to know they’re safe.”
At the mention of Beckett, something in Meren’s expression shifted slightly, a little less openly hostile.
“And if you find them?”
Mikael held her gaze. “Then I make certain no one hurts them again.”
Silence stretched.
“No guards?”
“No one will be taken away again. I take full responsibility for the fiasco, but I guarantee it will not happen again.”
Finally Meren sighed heavily and wiped her hands on her apron. “They’re safe,” she admitted. “Lyra found Beckett earlier today and took him home.”
Relief hit Mikael hard and fast. “Thank the gods.”
Beside him, even Malaya visibly relaxed.
“Where is home?” Mikael asked.
Every expression in the bakery hardened again.
Meren shook her head at once. “Absolutely not.”
“I only want to speak with her.”
“And you’re still a royal,” another villager muttered from one of the tables.
“They’ve suffered enough already,” someone else added quietly.
Mikael could feel the walls closing around him now. Lyra truly had no one protecting her except these people. Somehow that realization only made him respect them more.
Malaya leaned against the counter and pulled out her phone. “Fine. If nobody wants to cooperate voluntarily, I’ll make some calls.”
Meren narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Calls to who?”
“To guards who actually know how to do their jobs,” Malaya replied dryly. She glanced at her brother. “Some of the guys I talked to were with Dag when they recovered you from Lyra’s cottage. One of them may be able to point us in the right direction.”
While she stepped aside to begin her search for directions, Mikael remained near the front windows watching the street outside and that was when he noticed the man.
Tall. Dark coat. Nervous energy.
He stood near the center of the road stopping nearly every passerby who walked near him, speaking urgently before growing visibly frustrated whenever they shook their heads and moved on.
Mikael’s instincts sharpened instantly. The man kept scanning faces, searching for something. Mikael stepped outside and crossed the road directly toward the stranger. The man’s posture stiffened the moment he realized Mikael was approaching.
“What are you looking for?” Mikael asked.
The man’s eyes narrowed immediately. “None of your business.”
Ordinarily Mikael might have let the hostility pass but something was off about the man, and he had no patience left.
“You’re questioning villagers while behaving like a hunted animal. That makes it my business.”
The man turned and started to walk away.
It was time to pull rank. Mikael spoke again, colder this time. “I am your king. You will answer me.”
That finally stopped him. Slowly, reluctantly, the stranger looked back and really saw Mikael. Recognition flickered across his face followed quickly by alarm.
Mikael stepped closer. “Answer me.”
The man hesitated before muttering, “I’m looking for my son.”
Beckett?
Something about the answer felt rehearsed. Mikael opened his mouth to question him further when the bakery door suddenly swung open behind him.
“Mikael,” Malaya called.
He turned toward her voice.
“I found one of the guards.”
The distraction lasted only seconds, but it was enough.
By the time Mikael turned back around, the stranger had already disappeared into the alleyway between the buildings.
“Damn it,” Mikael growled.
Malaya frowned and glanced down the empty street. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know yet.” Which bothered him immensely.
Malaya slipped her phone back into her pocket. “One of the guards remembered roughly where Lyra’s cottage is located. Apparently it’s pretty remote but I know which way we need to go.”
Mikael’s attention lingered another moment on the place where the stranger had vanished before he finally nodded once.
“Then we go now.”
Because every instinct he possessed was screaming that time was running out.