Page 102 of A Frozen Pyre
“It is. And I mean that as the highest compliment. The continent has been waiting for you for centuries. Zita could have called her frenzy hundreds of years prior, but she was waiting for you, whether or not she knew it. Raascot would have been squished beneath Farehold’s thumb. You changed history. You make and unmake. That’s godhood, Ophir. You’re the goddess of change, of creation, of—”
“Discord and strife,” she sneered. “I know what I want, Dwyn, and it isn’t to rule. If you’re going to stand in front of me and tell me to go back to the throne, then you’re no better than my father. I haven’t come this far just to have someone else’s will imposed on me. Stand with me, or step aside. I’ll take care of the crew myself.” She turned and marched toward the specks of workers in the distance, who busied themselves around the dock at the edge of the Straits.
“By going to Sulgrave, you’re throwing it away,” Dwyn said, voice ripe with pain and frustration.
But Ophir didn’t turn to look at her. She’d said all sheneeded to say. The siren could scream into the snow all she wanted. Ophir wasn’t going to Sulgrave. But she was finished being told what to do.
***
Two Hours Following the Wedding
As far as she knew, the ship had never seen the sea. It was built on skates for northern ice, not for salt and waves. Why then, she wondered, did the sailors reek of rotting fish?
“I hate these men,” Dwyn said, eyeing the sailors bundled against the arctic as they bustled in and out of the ship in preparation for departure. The men were citizens of Farehold paid by Ceneth’s coin to take his new bride and her companion to Sulgrave.
Ceneth had promised that the men would ask no questions. They had been skeptical, but were ready to do whatever their princess needed, particularly when their pockets were lined with gold. People rarely survived passage across the Straits, but Ophir’s gift for flame was well known across the kingdom. It was the reassurance they needed that, should the ship falter and the wind crack its hull, she could call a fire as large and hot as the sun to keep the ice and snow from consuming them.
“You hate all men,” Ophir hissed back.
“That’s not true.” Dwyn’s attempts at a whisper fell short. A crew member raised a disapproving brow as he passed.
Ophir had been aboard pleasure cruises that idled around the coast with Farehold’s nobility. She’d enjoyed the rocking of the western sea while drinking wine and dipping crab legs in melted butter as dolphins leaped into the wake behind them. She’d enjoyed watching the wind fill the sails and the way Caris had clutched the mast while she’d scanned incessantly for the merfolk that most certainly didn’t exist. This enormous, land-bound ship reminded her of the seafaringship in many ways, but it was on an interesting set of thin, flat skis, prepared to glide across the snow. She was told that they were still several miles from the Straits and that the crew would set to work switching out the boards for blades once they hit the ice. She struggled to imagine what the Straits must look like if this barren sea of white nothingness was still several miles from its territory.
“Name one man you don’t hate,” Ophir demanded. Though she had been shown to the captain’s quarters, she had opted to stay amid the crew beneath the ship. If the men needed to be brainwashed into telling a very specific story, she thought it might serve her well to observe them before they utilized that ability.
Dwyn chewed on her lip.
“Told you.”
“I’m thinking,” Dwyn bit back defensively.
After a long pause, Ophir leveled her a dry, unamused look.
“Well, in my defense, I don’t like any women, either. Except you. My misanthropy is an equal opportunist.”
Ophir wasn’t sure what to say, so she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the inner wall of the ship. She’d expected it to be cold as it absorbed the winter winds beyond, but some lovely insulation kept heat pulsing through the sides of the vessel. What saddened her wasn’t Dwyn’s statement. It was that she believed that Dwyn meant exactly what she said. She knew Dwyn cared for her, and liked her, and wanted to be with her. And even still, Dwyn didn’t understand her at all. She’d have Ophir return to Aubade and don a glittering crown to rule over a people in turmoil.
Either she didn’t care to empathize with Ophir enough to absorb just how much she’d hate that future or she knew and she didn’t care.
Dwyn loved her. She knew it was true.
She also knew that being loved by Dwyn would never bring her peace. And maybe she didn’t deserve peace. Perhapsshe’d earned every miserable second that stretched out before her. But if she was going to spend eternity suffering, she wouldn’t do it with a kingdom beneath her.
“How did you cross?” Ophir asked, changing the subject.
Dwyn looked about the ship for a bit before saying, “I came by sea.”
She twisted her mouth into a mock smile as she said, “And not with your ability to travel?”
Dwyn lifted a cheeky brow. “I absolutely would have used that ability if it had crossed my mind. At the time, the only thing I could think was to venture south using the water. I nearly perished.”
Ophir’s contempt calmed for a moment as she considered Dwyn’s words. “You almost died?”
Dwyn nodded. “I came alone. It was how I learned I couldn’t stockpile stolen abilities indefinitely. I’d wanted to move as fast as the wind. I killed…” She stopped herself from the number on her lips. “Many,” she said finally. “I needed rapid speed and to keep myself warm. I thought if I traveled beneath the waves, I’d be spared from the elements. I didn’t need a ship, or a crew, or anything of the sort. I thought I’d make it all the way to Aubade.”
“You didn’t need to breathe underwater, either?”
Dwyn shook off the question. “No, that’s unnecessary. I just move the water around me. It bends for me, so I can keep a bubble of air and change it out for fresh air. The water has always been my friend.”
