Page 25 of A Frozen Pyre
“I think it’s about the summit,” she said. “The guests are set to begin arriving. I knew we couldn’t avoid it for much longer.”
Dwyn sat up. “Oh, good. Your parents like me.”
Ophir frowned. “Theylikedyou before you aided and abetted my criminal escapades.”
Dwyn’s lower lip jutted out. The knocking continued.
“Princess Ophir, I’m going to open the door now, okay?”
Ophir barely had time to shrug into her robe before a pair of attendants let themselves into the room. The woman sighed at Dwyn’s indecent form. The attendants didn’t care that Dwyn and Ophir were women. They didn’t even care that they were sleeping together on the eve of Ophir’s betrothal to the king. They did, however, seem to find it endlessly tiring that Dwyn couldn’t be bothered to put on a stitch of clothing in anyone’s presence unless coerced through threat of force.
The first woman drew a bath while the other shooed Dwyn out of the bed and began to fix the sheets. Dwyn crawled back onto the bed the moment the comforter had been tucked neatly into place. The attendant ignored her, picking out clothes for each of the girls.
“What time will the guests arrive?” Ophir asked.
“Everyone’s here,” the woman answered.
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“The royal party from Farehold arrived yesterday, and Queen Zita and her retinue were at the bridge to the castle just as the sun rose. They’ve all been given a chance to recuperate from the road, but everyone is eager to meet. You’ll be expected this afternoon.”
“But it’s only been a few days since the banquet…”
“It’s been eight days, Your Highness.”
Ophir gnawed her lip at that, marveling at how easy it was to lose track of time when nothing mattered and you didn’t care about anything. Whenever she attempted to contemplate the motives that brought her to this place in earnest, she developed yet another thumping pain in her temples. At first, she’d written them off as inopportune headaches. Now, anytime a renewed migraine bloomed between her ears, caution brought her to stare at Dwyn, whether she intendedto or not. She couldn’t explain her wariness, but at this pace, she put nothing past the siren and her powers.
Ophir spent her time either in bed with Dwyn or making excuses for alone time in the late-autumn gardens so that Dwyn wouldn’t be suspicious when she stole away with Tyr. He always caught her up on vital information regarding the castle. He often held her hand, or brushed hair away from her face. Sometimes he’d pin her against the dark, icy wall in a shadowy corner and hike her skirt up over her ass as he took her hips in his hands, waiting for the sweat of their entanglement to heat her. All things considered, her sex life had never been better.
“Dwyn is coming,” Ophir said quickly to the attendant.
The woman made a tired face and said, “Yes, we’ve expected as much. You’ve really shoved your lover down the court’s throat, you know. You could try a little decorum. We’ll have lunch sent to your room, but someone will be back around three to fetch you. Please don’t be indisposed.”
The attendant said the final word with heavy implication.
Ophir was stunned to have been spoken to in such a way. Dwyn’s hand flew to her mouth as she failed to stifle her laugh. The attendants left the room before Ophir had a chance to collect herself.
“Oh my goddess.” Ophir blinked as the door shut.
“I would love to have that woman’s gonads.”
Ophir rolled her eyes as she approached the dress they’d laid out. “Dwyn, you have bigger balls than anyone I’ve ever met. You don’t give two shits about anything.”
Dwyn smiled as she peered at their clothing choices. “I am quite bold, aren’t I? But you’re wrong. I give at least one shit.”
“Oh?”
Dwyn smiled at her sweetly, and Ophir flipped her a vulgar finger. Their means of flirtation had never been predisposed to gentleness.
After Ophir had bathed and dressed, it was time to eat. Much to her surprise, Evander, Ceneth’s primary advisor,popped by her personal chambers while her lunch was being delivered. He offered a three-minute briefing on what was to be expected, bowed uncomfortably, and departed. His visit was so short, Dwyn had missed the entire thing simply for washing her face in the adjoining bathing room. After the food was digested, the plates were cleared, and the hours ticked by, the time had come.
They slipped from the room and began their trek down the hall.
“Is Ceneth escorting you in?” Dwyn asked. “Or do we get to enter together?”
Ophir shook her head. “He’ll already be in the room. I’m expected to sit at the table halfway between Raascot and Farehold. I’m neither at my father’s side nor at my fiancé’s.” She said the word bitterly. “He’ll be accompanied by Evander and Onain. At least, so I’ve been told. I informed him that I was bringing you with me, and he didn’t seem to take issue with it.”
Warm daylight spilled through the windowed corridors and lit Dwyn’s smile as they walked. “I’m liking him more every day.”
