Page 109 of A Chill in the Flame
“Anxious, mostly. I want to do it. I want to scrub him off the face of the earth, no matter how big or small his role in Caris’s death was. He’s still a part of it.” She rubbed her arms almost as if she were cold, despite the warmth of the night. “I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
Dwyn pressed in closely. “I can help with that.”
Ophir’s eyes widened as she looked to where Tyr still stood. She hoped Dwyn was talking about how she used to hold her in order to help her with her nightmares. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to tackle the inappropriateness of the siren implying anything else while Tyr stood arms’ lengths away.
He made a face telling them that he’d understood exactly what Dwyn meant. “I’ll give you two some, um, privacy. I’ll go find the kitchen. I could use a few minutes to myself anyway. Maybe I’ll bring something that isn’t orange-flavored.”
“Tyr,” Dwyn began, frowning, “I am sorry. About…”
“I get it.”
“Great.” She smiled. “Bygones? Over that whole thing? With the…With your, I mean…”
“Stop talking about it, please.”
“Super. Don’t come back,” Dwyn called after him with her light, singsong voice as he stepped into the place between things.
***
Food was the last thing on Tyr’s mind.
Dwyn’s pettiness clung to him with sticky, tar-like insistence. Her attempt to alienate Ophir from him over Svea had been cruel, but it was hardly the most dangerous thing about her. If anything, fighting offered the bit of normalcy he’d needed to distract himself from outing her. He needed to focus on the issue at hand.
No, not there.He eased another door shut.Goddess dammit, how many rooms does this place have?
It took him several tries and pressing his ear into numerous doors before he found what he was looking for. Tyr quietly opened the bedroom door and slipped in just in time to see Harland go rigid. The guard scanned the empty air in search of the disturbance. Samael stood near him against the wall, hands in his pockets as the men discussed Berinth. If they’d been asleep, he wasn’t sure if he would have had any hope of finding them.
Their gazes flew to the opened door, eyes straining against the dim, flameless fae lights for evidence of an intruder.
Though Harland’s room was far smaller and more sparsely decorated, it maintained the high ceilings throughout the palace. If Ophir was nervous, then Harland was a wreck. Tyr looked at the doorframe but was dismayed to find a lack of runes. They’d have to stay quiet.
He closed the door behind him before stepping back into visibility.
Harland was on his feet in an instant. Tyr wasn’t sure what kept him quiet, but the man didn’t go for his sword, nor did he cry out. Perhaps it was Samael’s lack of reaction that kept the guard from lunging for him. Harland’s hand stilled against the hilt at his waist, tense and ready.
“Nice to officially meet you,” Tyr said, wondering if Harland recognized him from their brief meeting at Guryon’s estate. His guess was yes a Sulgrave fae who’d escaped with his princess moments before he was knocked unconscious was hard to forget. “My name is Tyr. We have a problem.”
Forty-eight
12:30 AM
6 hours and 15 minutes until execution
“I knew it.”
Tyr’s laugh was humorless. “I very much doubt that. I didn’t figure it out myself until about twenty minutes ago.” He knew he was at a disadvantage. These men neither knew nor trusted him, and Harland certainly didn’t like him. Tyr walked to the desk and turned the chair around, swinging his leg over it to straddle it while he continued facing them. It was meant to put them at ease, posing in a way that would leave him disadvantaged in a fight. This was not how one sat if they needed to throw a punch.
He did his best to look relaxed, but his ears hadn’t stopped ringing since taking a bow from Dwyn in the dungeon. They’d barely survived their attacks on one another, and his adrenaline wouldn’t let him forget it. He wondered if her heart was also thundering, if her stress hummed through her body, if she felt hot and cold at the same time as if under the threat of an oncoming flu, if her eyes danced with the dizzying stars of nauseating, impending unconsciousness. Probably not. He was beginning to doubt she felt anything at all.
Harland stood firm. “Ididknow it. I knew from the moment I met Dwyn that she was not Ophir’s friend. Sheknew what Firi could do. Somehow, she knew. She was behind this. I just couldn’t have fathomed…”
“How deep the rabbit hole went?”
Samael followed suit and took a seat. Harland shot an uncertain look at his companion, then relaxed, though not fully. Samael leaned back in his chair, twisting his lips as he considered the information. “If this Dwyn person is behind Berinth, why is he in Tarkhany? Why isn’t he in Sulgrave?”
“Because Tarkhany has motive for revenge. Not only did she create and frame so-called Lord Berinth, but she crafted a failsafe. Tarkhany was primed to be framed for Caris’s murder, should her Berinth scheme be discovered. It’s why she sent him to the farthest corner of the desert before her hold on him came to an end,” Tyr said.
Samael pressed further. “You’re saying this with certainty. What do you know?”
