Chapter 19
Mikael
Mikael had slept in war zones, natural disaster situations, and even in a tiny cave because it had been the only shelter available during a mountain storm, yet somehow the cottage tucked close to the base of the mountains felt stranger to him than any of those places ever had.
Because this place held peace.
Not complete peace, perhaps, because fear still lingered beneath every quiet moment, and uncertainty stalked the edges of every conversation, but there was warmth here that Mikael had not realized he had been starving for until he stepped inside it.
The fire crackled softly while Beckett eventually fell asleep sprawled against Malaya beneath a pile of blankets on the floor.
The television murmured quietly in the background as snow continued to drift outside the windows.
Lyra moved through the cottage with hesitant hospitality that somehow felt more intimate than the formal rituals of court ever had.
When she quietly offered for them to stay the night because the roads were worsening again, Mikael accepted immediately. Not because of the weather, but because every instinct inside him refused to leave her unprotected now that the truth had finally begun surfacing.
He waited until Lyra disappeared briefly down the hallway to gather extra blankets before he stepped outside onto the porch alone. The freezing air bit at any exposed skin as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number.
The guard captain answered almost immediately. “Your Majesty.”
“I want six men stationed around the village before dawn,” Mikael said quietly. “No royal banners. No uniforms visible to the villagers.”
“Yes, sire.”
“I want two guards specifically monitoring the man searching for Beckett.” Mikael gave him a quick description. “I want to know where he goes, who he speaks to, and whether he attempts to leave town.”
The captain hesitated briefly. “Should Commander Dag be informed?”
Mikael’s expression hardened instantly. “No.” The single word turned the night colder. “You will report directly to me and to no one else. Dag is not to be included in these orders, and if he should find out and attempts to interfere, you personally contact me immediately. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Mikael ended the call slowly and stared out across the darkening forest while unease settled heavily because the decision should have troubled him more than it did.
A king isolating his own commander by issuing secret orders and hidden guards. He hated the distrust that was taking root inside his own court, and yet none of it felt unreasonable anymore. Not after the poison.
By the time he returned inside, Malaya watched him with narrowed eyes from the couch. “You’re doing the scary silent-thinking thing again.”
“I was assigning protection.”
“For the village or for Lyra specifically?”
Mikael didn’t answer at first. “In the village for the benefit of Lyra. We will be here with her.”
Malaya sighed dramatically before turning her attention toward Lyra when she walked back in carrying a tall order of blankets. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
Lyra dropped the extra blankets across the armchair. “What?”
“When you rescued him from the mountain and stripped the wet clothes off him…” Malaya paused thoughtfully. “Did you notice any marks on his body besides the obvious injuries from the fall?”
Lyra scratched her head as she thought. Mikael became abruptly aware that he had never actually considered what she must have seen during those feverish days while caring for him.
Heat crept unpleasantly up the back of his neck.
Lyra looked equally aware of the implication now, though she answered carefully after a moment.
“There were bruises everywhere,” she admitted quietly.
“Along his ribs and back mostly. I thought they came from hitting the rocks during the fall.” Her brow furrowed slightly as she glanced toward him.
“There was also a deep puncture wound near the back of his shoulder.”
Mikael straightened immediately. “What kind of puncture?”
“I assumed maybe a branch or icicle caused it, something thin and sharp.” Lyra hesitated. “It looked strange though.”
Malaya was already moving before Lyra finished speaking. “Take your shirt off.”
Mikael blinked once. “You could phrase that less aggressively.”
“You survived attempted murder. Stop being dramatic.”
Lyra looked mortified. Mikael almost smiled despite himself before he pulled his shirt over his head carefully. His shoulder was still stiff enough that the movement pulled uncomfortably against half-healed bruising.
Lyra’s eyes flickered over his torso before she quickly looked away again. Just enough so that his dragon noticed immediately.
Warm possessiveness surged sharply through him at the realization that she was looking at him differently now. He had to forcibly shove the instinct back down before it overwhelmed common sense entirely.
Malaya stepped closer and examined the fading bruise near the back of his shoulder while Lyra slowly approached as well.
“There,” Lyra said softly, pointing near the edge of the bruise.
Mikael twisted slightly to see better. At first glance it appeared insignificant beneath the discoloration left by the fall. But now that they were actively searching for it, the mark became unmistakable.
A small darkened ring sat near the center of the fading bruise.
Malaya went very still. “That,” she said quietly, “is not from a branch.”
Mikael felt something cold settle through his chest.
Lyra stared at the mark. “You think someone injected the poison?”
“The bruising from the fall probably hid it,” Malaya murmured. “But yes. That ring is consistent with toxin injection.”
Mikael tried to remember the details of his last moments on the top of the mountain. It still didn’t sit well with him that he had fallen despite years of surviving mountain terrain that would kill most men.
It hadn’t been exhaustion, carelessness, or altitude. It had been poison and the last face Mikael remembered before the fall was Dag’s.
His jaw tightened hard enough to ache.
Across the room, Lyra watched him carefully now, as though she sensed how dangerously close his temper sat beneath the surface.
“Hey,” Malaya said lightly, though her tone carried a warning beneath it. “There’s no one here to murder tonight. We’re guests.”
Mikael gave her a glare as he put his shirt back on. “No guarantees for the future.”
After dinner and a few board games, Malaya chose to camp out on the floor in Beckett’s room, much to his delight. Once they headed off to bed, Mikael and Lyra sat in the living room as the cottage atmosphere settled for the night.
The fire crackled softly in the stone hearth and spilled dancing light across the little living room.
Mikael sat at one end of the worn sofa with one arm stretched along the back cushion.
His broad shoulders relaxed in a way they rarely ever were within the castle walls, while Lyra sat beside him with her legs tucked beneath her and a blanket gathered loosely around her lap.
For a long while neither of them spoke very much, and strangely, Mikael found he didn’t mind the silence at all. It was completely void of awkwardness and was just…nice.
The scent of woodsmoke lingered in the air along with faint traces of fried chicken and winter herbs from the kitchen. Every now and then Lyra would smile softly at something unspoken before turning her gaze back toward the flames.
“You keep staring at me,” she murmured eventually, though there was no real accusation in her voice.
Mikael huffed a quiet laugh. “You noticed.”
“It’s difficult not to notice when a king looks at someone like that.”
His eyes lingered on her profile as the firelight reflected off loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid, and he realized with unsettling clarity that he had begun memorizing these small details without meaning to.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who speaks to me as though I am simply a man,” he admitted.
Lyra gave him a small smile. “Maybe because beneath the crown, you are.”
Her words hit home. Most people feared him, others obeyed him. Very few saw him.
Yet somehow this woman, who sat barefoot beneath a faded blanket, looked at him more honestly than anyone at court ever had.
Mikael shifted slightly toward her before he could stop himself. He was drawn closer by instinct rather than thought, and when her eyes dropped briefly to his mouth, heat curled low beneath his ribs. His dragon stirred lazily beneath his skin, not restless this time, but warm and deeply attentive.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that either.”
A faint blush rose into her cheeks. “Like what?”
“As though you’re thinking dangerous things.”
“And if I am?”
Mikael held her gaze for a long moment while the fire popped quietly beside them. The air between them grew warmer and tighter with every passing second.
“Then,” he said carefully, his voice roughening, “it would seem we are both in trouble.”
Neither of them moved away, but neither of them continued on with the conversation. When Lyra retired for the night a short time later, Mikael felt the emptiness of the room.
Sleep didn’t come easily, and the following morning arrived quicker than expected.
Mikael woke without the crushing fog that had clouded his thoughts, and although his body still ached somewhat from the fall, his mind felt sharper now, clearer in ways that relieved him.
His memories had started returning. He remembered leaving his horse and searching for signs of a snow cat that Dag was positive he had seen. And then, a sharp sting near his shoulder.
Mikael stood near the kitchen window staring out at the snow while the memory sharpened painfully. He distinctly remembered wondering if a snow cat had circled back and taken a swipe at him.
But no animal attack had followed. Only the fall.
“You remembered something,” Malaya observed from the living room without looking away from the television Beckett was enthusiastically watching beside her.
Mikael nodded once slowly. “The injection.”
Lyra looked up sharply from where she stood near the stove.
“I thought an animal had clipped me during the storm,” Mikael admitted quietly. “I remember the sting now.”
He fully understood the truth with complete clarity that Lyra had saved his life. And not only his own life, but also the life of his dragon. If the poison had fully progressed, if the elements hadn’t killed both of them, the toxins would have.
Mikael dragged a hand down his face roughly and forced himself to step away from the window. Whatever Dag had done, there was nothing he could do right at the moment.
Several minutes later, Malaya became distracted helping Beckett with the television remote after he somehow managed to activate subtitles in three different languages simultaneously.
Lyra took the opportunity to quietly approach Mikael near the hallway.
“Can we talk?” she asked softly.
Mikael’s pulse reacted instantly to the request itself. “Of course.”
They moved into the kitchen while Beckett and Malaya argued faintly about television settings. Lyra busied herself preparing coffee with visible nervousness while Mikael leaned silently against the counter watching her.
Finally she spoke without turning around. “When you were unconscious…” She hesitated carefully. “I saw things.”
Mikael’s brow raised. “What things?”
“The heat, at first,” she admitted softly. “Your skin would become impossibly warm whenever you had nightmares.” She swallowed slightly before continuing. “Then one night I saw scales along your ribs.”
Shock rooted Mikael motionless. Lyra had witnessed it all and still stayed beside him long enough to keep him alive.
“You know what I am,” Mikael said quietly.
Her eyes held his steady now. “I think I do.”
Mikael should have felt threatened by that knowledge. Instead, something far more dangerous unfurled slowly inside his chest.
Trust.
And his dragon reacted to it immediately with fierce, possessive satisfaction.