Page 12 of A Frozen Pyre
“Dwyn? Is her name?”
Ophir nodded.
“How much time does she take to recover? For her secondary ability, that is?”
Ophir hoped her face remained blank. Neither she nor Caris possessed secondary abilities. At least, none that the public was privy to. Caris’s perfect memory had been heronly known ability. Ophir was… Well, no one could know what Ophir was. She tried to think of anyone in the castle with secondary abilities but struggled to recall a reasonable recovery period.
Ophir shook her head finally, saying, “She’s still quite sick. She’ll undoubtedly remain in bed for a few more days.”
He nodded absently before offering a wave in farewell.
Ophir managed to turn her back to the king before showing her true suppressed panic to the wall. She let herself outside of the dining room before she felt a hand on her back. Her pulse spiking, Ophir jumped and turned to see…no one.
“Tyr?”
“Hush, Princess, you did great in there.”
She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or frustrated. “Do you spy on everything?”
He ran hands down her arms to let her know he was there, saying, “I try. I slipped out this morning to follow servants around the castle to gather the layout. They seemed to be bringing too much food for one man, so I loitered.”
“I hated it,” she said quietly.
Tyr said nothing. He squeezed her arm gently.
“Not him,” she clarified. “I hate being around someone who loved her so much. I hate—”
“He’s your ally,” Tyr whispered, “and my intelligence from this morning suggests that everyone else in the castle is, as well. They have their reservations about Dwyn, but you handled that perfectly. Water and travel? All their questions will have been answered satisfactorily. No one on the continent, aside from Dwyn and I, has any reason to believe you can manifest.”
Ophir made a face.
“What?”
“Harland knows,” she said quietly. Her memories flashed to the crashing waves, the way Dwyn had slapped her, had kicked her, had forced her to the brink of panic before she’d created the demonic snake to defend her. He’d beheaded it,shoved it into the sea, and cleaned up the evidence. He knew everything. “He was there when I first manifested. The three of us were on the cliff when I made my first serpent.”
She expected Tyr to react with something akin to shock or disdain, but he did not.
She prodded him. “You don’t believe this is a setback?”
He pursed his lips. “People will begin to find out one way or another, though I respect the wisdom in keeping your gifts close for as long as we can. Gods can’t hide for long.”
It was her turn to look at her feet in silence.
“Tyr?”
“Yes?”
She moved uncomfortably in the hall, fully aware that it would look to any passersby that she was touched by the sun and chatting to herself. Fortunately, there was no foot traffic in the early-morning corridors of the castle.
“I don’t like that I can’t find you if I need you. I hate that I have to just wait and hope and—”
His mouth met the soft place on her temple, dragging his kiss onto her cheek. He waited until she parted her lips, inviting his mouth, before turning her so that her back was flat against the stones. Tyr wrapped his body around hers, enveloping her in his warmth. With her eyes closed against the morning light pouring through the windows, she could pretend that they were a normal couple stealing moments in the hall. As long as her lids remained tightly squeezed against reality, she didn’t have to face the painful layers of complexity that made up their relationship.
He broke the kiss first, raking his fingers roughly into her hair on one side. His weight continued to crush her against the wall, and the pressure made her feel safe, secure, and whole. It was almost as if the physical presence filled a spiritual ache.
“I’m sorry I can’t be present,” he said, voice quiet and slow. She believed his sincerity.
“It’s okay.” She swallowed. “I know what it’s like to love a ghost. It’s not this.”
