Page 64 of A Chill in the Flame
“It’s not a cult,” he defended. “Their powers are real. They’ve been wielding blood magics to access new andunnatural powers without it hurting themselves or drawing from their own blood. We’ve seen others do it. Berinth brought…”
“Berinth brought what?”
Guryon sounded like he might cry, but his whimpering only annoyed her. “He would bring people in sometimes—usually women. Peasants, women from the pleasure houses, women who didn’t know why they’d come to his home… He’d show us a new power he’d accessed without it harming him. He’d drain them instead, leaving him whole.”
Dizziness made it hard for Ophir to focus, but the anger brought her back.
Women.
Vulnerable women who worked in brothels, who were impoverished, who trusted too much, who were princesses and heirs to the throne. It didn’t matter. Women. No one woman was safe from those who took and took and took. She swallowed again, still feeling dry bread in her throat. “And Caris?”
“Royal blood…royal organs, a royal heart…it’s the power of gods, Princess. There’s no other way for me to say it. This was no simple blood magic. This was not the borrowed power of some peasant. We thought we’d be accessing abilities as great as the All Mother’s.”
Her mouth was in a hard line as she brought her fire to her fist once again. “And what power is that?”
He shook his head, looking at the floor. He was prepared to die. “Everything.”
Thirty-one
Dwyn and Tyr waited outside with fidgety impatience.Whether they’d heard the conversation or simply been confident in her abilities, it was unclear.
“So?” Dwyn asked.
Sedit trotted at her side as Ophir passed the two without speaking.
“Firi—”
“Don’t.” She spun on them. “Don’t call me that.”
Dwyn raised her hands, eyes wide with true surprise. “What happened in there?”
Ophir looked from one, then to the other. “I’ll be moving forward on my own.”
Dwyn’s eyebrows puckered in the center, but Tyr remained unbothered. He took two steps forward, looping his arm around the princess’s. “No, you won’t.”
“Hey!” She called her fire, and the moment he grabbed her wrist, the fireball stopped short in her palm. It smoked out, leaving her hand empty.
Ophir groaned with her exertion and thrust it forward with her mind alone, but much to her surprise, Dwyn quenched the flame that had been intended for the Sulgrave man.
“Firi, I’m happy to let you kill Tyr. Tell me why, and I’llbe the first to see him die.”
Her jaw clenched. “Sedit?” She looked to her hound. The beast let a low growl rumble through its throat.
“Don’t,” Dwyn breathed, genuine fear flashing through the single syllable.
“Tell me why you’re here,” Ophir demanded.
Dwyn’s hair shook around her in a cloud as dark as the night. The surprised whites around her eyes could be discerned despite the late hour. “We’re here to support—”
“Tell me why you’rehere! Why did you cross the Frozen Straits? Why are you in Farehold? Why were you in the water that night? Why did you come to find me?”
Tyr released her wrist, holding his hands flat as if he hoped to pacify her. “What did Guryon say?”
“Firi—” Dwyn tried again.
“Stop lying!” She brought her hands up and summoned a large black serpent. Both Dwyn and Tyr tensed against the presence of her beast. “Tell me another lie. Tell me!” She threw out her hand and a second vageth sprung into place, adding to her demonic pack of hellhounds as they slowly populated the shadows of the continent. “Lie to me again!”
Her army of nightmares filled the space, too many black eyes, too many dripping teeth all focused on the bewildered Sulgrave fae. The snake’s tongue tasted the air before them as if licking the sweet nectar of their fear. A noxious wave of rotten meat rolled off of the creatures as their horrible odor filled the air around them.
