Page 72 of A Chill in the Flame
“But alas.” He grinned somewhat humorlessly, tugging at the collar of his tunic to reveal his tattoo. “There’s little you can do about that hate, is there.”
Dwyn’s gaze shot to where a similar, complex swirl of ink wrapped around her leg and over her hip. It was always hidden below whatever pants or tunic or dresses she wore, but it marred her just as it did him. He’d watched her eyes fill with rage every time she caught the way the darkened edges of his tattoo licked above his collar, impossible to truly conceal. Neither of them needed the constant reminder of the single biggest mistake they’d ever made.
“Her royal guard,” Tyr began, changing the subject as hismind wandered to the man he’d set beside his horse in the yard nearly one week prior. He’d been able to find them when no one else had.
“Harland,” Dwyn supplied.
He grunted his acknowledgment. “Will he pose any problem?”
Dwyn shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He’s already tried his best, after all. I’ve known him for some time. He doesn’t like me very much, but he’d die for Ophir. I can’t be sure, but something about the way he looks at her leads me to believe they’ve shared a bed. He loves her,” she said, ruing the word with a tinge of jealousy. “Even if we come across him, I think we’d be able to win him to our cause if it means reuniting them. He’s uptight, but he wouldn’t make the worst traveling companion.”
“You wouldn’t kill him?”
The siren’s chuckle reminded him of belladonna blossoms and brightly colored serpents and other poisonous things that came in pretty packages. “I’m trying to get Ophir on my good side, remember? Even when they fight, it’s like a spat between family. Besides, you’d run and tell her what I’d done immediately. If you knew how, anyway.”
“Right,” he said, voice as dry as the crusted earth he dusted from his palms. “And you can, because of the farmers you slaughtered so you…what, exactly? Why did they need to die?”
“Nice try” came her deadpan reply. “You know that I can borrow any ability I want from the well of power that flows through the earth. It’s why you followed me across the Straits. If I wanted to find Ophir right now, I’d just”—she snapped her fingers to underscore her point—“and there you have it, I’d be a natural-born tracker.”
“Then do it.”
“I’ve only borrowed two lives,” she said. “And I have far more than two things to accomplish if I want to help Ophir. Finding her is a quarter of the battle at best. Can’t go wastinggood blood, now, can we?”
He drummed his fingers against his bicep. “Why don’t you show me how to borrow powers like you do, and then we can double our efforts to help her?”
“Your selfishness betrays you,” she said. “You’d get what you want, and you’d disappear to do goddess-knows-what with your newfound powers. You don’t care about Ophir.”
“She won’t love you,” he replied. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as quietly as it had. His words felt both too heavy and too quiet for the small country home and its crackling fire. There was a sadness and weight to the simple statement. It soured the room that had been filled with the warm, hearty smells of fire, ash, cooked ham, and eggs only moments before.
“She may yet,” Dwyn said quietly.
“Why do you need it?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t answer.
“No.” She refilled her glass. “Why I need it isn’t the question. You’re not unintelligent. You’ve discerned my motives.”
“Power for the sake of power?”
“If it were as simple as that. But yes. The true question is, oh noble Tyr, why doyou?”
Revenge. But he wouldn’t tell her that. If she knew about Svea…if she knew of his weaknesses…well, he didn’t need anyone else to see his weak spots. They’d been his undoing. He looked away and could see Dwyn smile.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it? Your secret?”
He didn’t look at her.
“It is,” she pushed. “I knew it. I’ve always known it. Let’s see…you weren’t high status enough for her? Something to prove? A heart to win? A lover scorned?” She leaned forward on her elbows, testing each question against his impassive expression. “No, that’s not it… Was she family? A sister? A mother?” Dwyn stood and wandered nearer to him, still holding her wineglass. “I’m getting warmer, aren’tI? Something happened to her.”
His face tightened in a way that would have been utterly imperceptible to anyone else.
“That’s it, isn’t it. Did she die? They always die.”
He closed his eyes slowly.
“Yes? No? Let’s try again… Did someone hurt her?”
“Stop speaking of things you don’t know. It’s not for you to understand, Dwyn. We’ll get Ophir back. You can continue whatever game you’re playing for her heart, though I have to say, I think she’ll see through it. She kept me in Guryon’s house when she kicked you out, remember?”
“You don’t know what she will and won’t do.”
