Page 4 of A Frozen Pyre
“I’m going to need to shift back into the space between things before she wakes up,” he said.
“What?” Ophir leaned away so she could look at him fully. She squinted at him through the dim light filtering between the cracks in the boards. “Why?”
Tyr sucked in a breath. She didn’t understand his expression.
“So many reasons,” he said after several long moments. “I think we’re in Raascot. Based on the trees and mountains, I assume we’re just outside of Gwydir. You’re going to need Ceneth’s help. You’re his betrothed. He won’t want another man sniffing around you.”
Ophir was incredulous. “Neither of us want to be in this arranged marriage! He loved my sister. He barely tolerates me. The feeling is mutual.”
“He’s a monarch, as are you,” Tyr argued. “Appearance is everything. We can’t humiliate him by having a lover move in with you the moment you arrive at his castle.”
Ophir’s eyes became slits. “Dwyn and I have fucked,” she said. “Shouldn’t I get rid of her, too, by that logic?”
“Trade on their assumptions. Let sexism work in your favor so you don’t lose both of us,” he sighed.
Ophir could barely whisper the next two words. “Lose you?”
“No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m not going anywhere. But for all intents and purposes, I need to appear gone, and…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if Dwyn can lie. She’s too blunt, too confident to play it close to the vest.”
Her eyebrows bunched. Something was odd about his delivery. His tone landed false, though she couldn’t explain why.
“You already have a mission for vengeance. You need to garner favor while you can if you hope to get away with whatever schemes will get you vengeance for Caris’s murder.”
Ophir struggled through his words. A headache bloomed as she tried to make sense of them. She drove her fingers into her temples to massage the tension, barely managing to shake her head.
While she tended to the throbbing between her ears, he added, “Can you say with certainty that Dwyn wouldn’t let something slip through a snide comment or sarcastic remark? We have to assume his walls have ears. Dwyn and I would need to remain peaceable within Castle Gwydir or we’d raise suspicion, and the two of us have never gone an hour without fighting. Could she be trusted to be convincingly amicable, no matter what happens? Could we trust her acting skills under Ceneth’s watchful eye?”
The pounding subsided as the topic changed back to Dwyn. Deceiving monarchs was an easy pastime. She understood the game.
Ophir’s face softened as she leafed through her memories. He had a point. She’d seen Dwyn and Tyr interact countless times, and the only constant in her life was how antagonistic they were toward one another.
Ophir shifted out from under Tyr’s hold and knelt beside Dwyn. The tips of her index and middle fingers found the weak pulse on the siren’s throat.
“She’s fine,” Tyr insisted.
But he didn’t know why she was so worried. How could he? She hadn’t seen Dwyn at all in the moments since Dwyn had fallen unconscious. Instead, she’d seen sister’s lifeless form. She’d smelled roses and tasted bitter drinks.
“There’s one more thing. I know this doesn’t need to be said, but you know what you are. I know what you are. The others…”
The swallow caught in Ophir’s throat. She was a manifester. She’d created a venomous snake the size of a horse. She’dmade dripping black hounds, rotting horses, and a dragon and its rider that had thrust an entire city into a spiral of madness and death. Anyone who learned what she was would be terrified.
“Who would I tell?” she said, heart aching at the question. Her sister was dead. She’d fled her family. Her only friends were inside this shack.
They were quiet until Dwyn showed signs of waking.
“Please don’t go,” Ophir asked of him.
“I won’t,” he said, still holding her hand as he disappeared before her eyes.
She steeled herself against the loss she felt, even knowing he was in the room with her. She helped Dwyn into a sitting position, manifesting her new clothes, helping her warm by the fireplace she summoned. Ophir told a flimsy lie about how she’d dragged her through an unknown door, and Dwyn was too groggy to question the story.
She slept. She woke. She planned.
Tyr slipped his hand into hers as they carved through the forest to let her know he was there. She and Dwyn didn’t exchange more than a few words as they picked their way between the enormous fir trees. She asked Dwyn if the siren could use a borrowed ability as a tracker, but Dwyn sadly informed her that she had nothing left.
Tyr tugged her slightly, and she turned her head to look through the empty space where he walked. He’d been right to get her attention.
“Dwyn?”
