Page 117 of A Frozen Pyre
“Yes,” she agreed quietly, “and I made the change I wanted to make. I’m done, Dwyn.”
But Dwyn wasn’t finished. “Your dragon took out scores of people in Tarkhany. Your creation destroyed a wing of Castle Gwydir. But do you know what you did to truly change the world?”
Ophir remained silent as, step by step, Dwyn crossed the frozen meadow.
“You simply made a decision. It wasn’t your power. It wasn’t your manifestation. It was yourchoice. Zita used what she had. Her husband stood in your stead, wearing your face. Ceneth posed as lure and bait. The kingdom and those who deigned to call you family came to seeyourwedding.You didn’t break the wheel of the world because you’re a manifester. You changed kingdoms and powers and dynasties because you’reyou.”
“I did what I needed to do,” Ophir said. She looked around at the trees. “I avenged my sister’s murder in Midnah. I ensured her beloved was set up for the world he deserves. I dethroned a tyrant. I helped Zita see crumbs of the retribution she’s owed. And I don’t want more, Dwyn. I don’t want to go back and wear a crown. I want to be here.”
Dwyn’s eyes were wild with disbelief. “That’s absurd, Ophir. You’re highborn. You grew up in a castle. You loved parties, and life, and drinking, and sex. You can have anything you want. You can’t simply walk away from that to be alone in the woods.”
“I can.” Ophir looked at her feet again. “And I have, Dwyn. And that’s why I had to walk away from you, too. Forsaking one means losing both, and I accept that. I know it’s painful, but I need you to respect my choice.”
“Your choice to sit in the snow by yourself? You’re a fucking goddess. You don’t like the old faith? That’s great. Start a new religion. You don’t want to obey the laws of an old kingdom? Fine. Create a new nation. Become the mother of monsters, Ophir, and set them free. There’s only one thing you do not do, and it’s isolate yourself in the goddess-forsaken middle of nowhere to be queen of nothing!”
Dwyn closed the space at long last. She swept Ophir into her arms in a crushing, tearful hug. Ophir felt the hot, wet salt of Dwyn’s pain and regret as cheek pressed against cheek. Dwyn snatched up Ophir’s hands and used her fingers to wipe away her tears.
Ophir looked sadly at her for a moment before something chilling and solid broke the tender heartbeats between them. Ice filled her veins the moment the cold pressed itself to her hand, shooting down her spine and up her wrist in tandem until it met in the middle. She looked down in horror at the small piece of metal on her hand.
“Dwyn…” The word escaped as a phantom in a graveyard. Dizziness claimed her. She stumbled backward, but Dwyn caught her elbow and kept her upright. Her stomach churned as she stared at the tiny silver-and-sapphire handcuff that had been placed on her finger.
“I love you, Firi,” Dwyn said through her sobs. She lifted the other ring and looked between Ophir’s wide, terrified eyes and her own hand. “I love you.”
Ophir tried to yank her hand away.
“Please don’t pull away. Let me rule beside you. I can help you see your potential! I can get you to the top, but clearly you can’t do this alone. You can’t get rid of me, Firi. I won’t leave.”
“Let me go,” Ophir yelled, the noise neither fae nor human as she tore her forearm from Dwyn’s grasp. Dwyn clamped down with bruising strength to keep Ophir steady.
If Dwyn wasn’t going to let her go, she would make her. Ophir called for her flame, but Dwyn preempted it with a drenching flood of water, bending to her will from the snow around her. Ophir called the fire into her very arms, her limbs blistering with infernal heat as she lost herself in its power, but Dwyn was every bit the water summoner that Ophir was for fire. The women interlocked in a horrid battle of elements and wills until Ophir thrust out her hand and a vageth sprang forth from the earth.
Its glossy skin and terrible teeth were her salvation. She continued to push against Dwyn as she struggled to maintain room to breathe.
“Help me!” she cried to the hound.
The beast answered without a moment’s hesitation. The vageth lunged for Dwyn, fangs snapping for her throat.
Dwyn didn’t flinch. She didn’t jump or roll or run. Face streaming with silent, passionate tears, Dwyn slipped the matching ring onto her own finger. An unseen tether between them snapped into place as the spelled piece of metal bound them together.
“Stop,” Dwyn said to the vageth, and it obeyed. The creature relaxed its posture and became utterly docile at their feet.
“No,” came Ophir’s horrified response. She stared at the demon, seeing her beloved Sedit as she begged, “Please.”
The vageth looked at her with wide, jeweled eyes.
“It’s no worse than my tattoo,” Dwyn insisted. “You know how I’m bound to Tyr? How the Blood Pact joined us all?”
“It was meant to keep you from killing each other,” Ophir snarled. “Is that what you need? A ring to keep me from murdering you?”
“It’s better than that and also more frustrating,” Dwyn said, voice hinging on desperation. “Every physical infliction that someone in our pact does to someone within our gang happens to everyone else. If one of us ascended to godhood, we all would. The rings don’t do that! They don’t make what happens to one happen to the other.”
“No. They simply make my will disappear into yours until I vanish altogether,” Ophir said, eyes lining with tears. “How long have you planned this?”
In an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability, Dwyn flinched.
“Tell me.”
“The truth won’t do you any good,” Dwyn said.
