Page 31 of A Frozen Pyre
Ophir bit into the apple once more. Its flesh was acrid and ashy—not in the way that a poisoned drink tasted amiss, but with the unpleasant flavorlessness that came from uneasiness and distraction. She continued to chew, needing the time, craving the familiarity of a life before politics and plans. Ophir would have been better off snagging a goblet and a bottle of wine.
The idea of intention and a plan for the future was something her mother had discussed with her in childhood—always to their combined frustration. She wanted nothing. Not only did she not want the obligations of a monarch, but she was not even sure if she wanted to be a person. An agendawas beyond her wants or needs.
She made an uncomfortable face, lifting a hand to cup her quickly reddening ears. Maybe she could use the temperature as an excuse to escape the conversation. Ophir frowned as she weighed her answer.
“Truthfully,” Ophir said quietly, “I never thought I needed one. Caris was the heir who mattered. She was groomed to rule. My task was simply to stay alive. I’d remain in Farehold doing goddess knows what until centuries from now when my parents were too old or tired to continue their reign. Hopefully, by then, I’d be sensible. Besides, I’d have a firm ally in the north with Caris ruling. That was the plan. After she died… My only plan has been to end the lives of those who took her.”
“Vengeance and justice”—Zita tested the words—“are such slippery slopes, aren’t they?”
“The difference is in the eye of the beholder,” Ophir said.
“Do you know what I like about you?”
Ophir shook her head.
“I have waited for centuries for someone discontented with the status quo. And that’s what you are, Ophir. How it reveals itself, I don’t truly care. If you want to be a warrior for truth and make amends across the lands, then you have my blessing. If you want to be an agent of chaos and burn it all to the ground, my support goes unchanged. In fact, it may serve us all the more to break the wheel rather than patch a system built on the backs of oppression. Just, do me a favor?”
Ophir looked at the queen expectantly.
“Whatever you do…dosomething.”
***
Dwyn hated that Ophir had left her behind. She didn’t know how to convince Ophir that she should be allowed to accompany her everywhere—from parties, to the bedroom, to important, clandestine political meetings—but there had to be a way. In the meantime, she didn’t want to play nicewith the advisors from Tarkhany. When her annoyed expression hadn’t done enough to dissuade the fae called Suley from speaking with her, she spoke through her teeth, doing nothing to conceal her irritation.
“Look, it was nice to meet you, but I’m going to head back to my—”
Suley grabbed Dwyn’s arm. Dwyn was hit with the scent of cloves and a sharp wave of eucalyptus—Dwyn hated the plant. She affiliated it with hospitals and sickbeds and death. The scent was overpowering, dripping from the girl to accompany her intensity. Though she spoke the common tongue, it was in a far more interesting accent than Zita’s as she asked, “Can you take it from me?”
Dwyn recoiled. “Excuse me?”
“The noise,” Suley pressed. “Can you take it?”
Dwyn tried to shake her arm loose, but Suley tightened her grip. She hated being touched. She didn’t even like to be bothered, let alone grabbed by a stranger.
Suley looked over her shoulder and dragged Dwyn around the corner to a small alcove. “You can drain. You can steal powers. You can—”
Dwyn’s irritation evaporated. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt true, paralyzing fear. The air left her lungs.
Suley’s eyes widened, words skipping like stones over the surface of a pond as she asked, “She can’t be. That can’t be true. A manifester?”
Dwyn’s heart skipped arrhythmically. Her head spun. This had to be a dream. If she ran to the room, she could crash into bed and wake up from this nightmare. She tried once again to pull away from Suley, to run down the corridor, but the erratic fae dug in her nails more deeply.
“You’re considering killing me now, but the entire castle would know it’s you. Yes, you’d be taken from Ophir’s side. Oh, you don’t think they could stand against you? You’ve taken on many, I see, I see. You don’t know what I know,Dwyn. There’s a neutralizer in Ceneth’s party, did you know this? They render everyone worthless—little more than pretty humans. No, no, not Onain. No, you haven’t met them. Yes, you’d be useless. You wouldn’t be able to fight, or defend, or drain. No, I won’t stop reading your mind. No—”
“Stop! Let me go!” Dwyn jerked, but Suley dug her nails in hard enough to draw tiny specks of blood.
“Take it away from me. Take the noise, and I’ll tell you something that you need to know.”
“What do I need to know?”
A slow smile spread across Suley’s face. “Everyone is keeping things from you, Dwyn. Everyone in that room. Yes, even Ophir. But oh, goddess, it gets better than that. There’s a rather delicious secret or two they’re keeping from Ophir. Three in that room know something that neither you nor Ophir know. I will tell you the moment you take the noise from me.”
Dwyn stopped trying to free herself. She studied the intensity in Suley’s eyes, truly absorbed the details of the woman’s face. The jewels, the piercings, the hair, the tattoo—they’d drawn attention away from a crueler detail. The crescent moon tattoo had been interesting from across the room, but now that she was up close, she saw the mangled scar tissue that the ink covered.
“Yes,” Suley said, hearing the question clang through Dwyn’s mind. “I did that to myself. I’ve wanted nothing more than to be rid of this power. It’s why I seek out neutralizers everywhere I go. The quiet, the relief, the calm, even if it’s for one night and a lousy fuck. I spent six years in the capital with a piece of shit simply because he had the ability. For six years, I slept in silence. I had dinners with no noise. I’ll throw myself at Ceneth’s neutralizer the moment we stop talking just for the chance at relief. If you can take it away—”
Dwyn had no snide remarks, nothing clever, nothing that would make this go away. Suley was right: killing her was the only solution, and even that was a nonsolution, especiallyif her queen and fellow advisor truly knew something that could be held over Dwyn.
