Page 48 of A Frozen Pyre
“She,” Suley corrected, “is both comforting and disappointing in how easy she’s been to manipulate. I am lovely, am I not? She’s invited me to her room for drinks tonight, as I expected she might. Do you know the worth of an evening without noise?”
Dwyn shook her head.
“No, because there is no price. There are no silvers or crowns equal to a silent night.”
Dwyn didn’t bother to argue. Instead, she asked, “I know you prioritize your quiet night, but perhaps you could try to make an ally? Stay friendly long enough for me to borrow her gift for manufacturing. I assume you’ll have her won over by the morning. This time tomorrow, I could have something made for you. I can’t guarantee its effectiveness, but I’ll try. Bring your neutralizer to meet me and we’ll make our first attempt.”
“Good,” Suley said, still looking at the bird. It hopped up and down the length of her finger, cocking its head fromside to side as contemplated its shot at freedom. Rather than attempt to take flight, the bird was content to be returned to its cage.
Dwyn stood, face ripe with discomfort. She wasn’t used to being so wholly ignored, but she’d said what she’d come to say. She rested her palm on the cool iron of the doorknob before she heard the voice behind her.
“On the topic of manufacturing?”
Dwyn paused, hand on the door. The music beyond stretched between them, bars spanning into a full verse as the musician plucked his tired notes.
“On good faith, I’ll offer you a piece of knowledge that you do not deserve and that you have not earned. But I appreciate your apology, and for that, there’s something I’ll share with you. The woman, Cybele? Do you know of her?”
Dwyn’s fingers tightened on the handle. Her heart kicked against her ribs. She turned, looking over her shoulder. “I do,” she said.
“Then you know her gift?”
“I do.”
Suley considered this. “The bands she offers Ophir do not strengthen bonds, as they claim. These ringsfusebonds.” Suley closed the door to the birdcage and met Dwyn’s eyes for a meaningful moment. “Do you understand the implication?”
“…I do.”
“Tomorrow is the last full day before the recess has ended and the summit resumes,” Suley said, voice free of feeling.
Dwyn’s insides froze, down to her toes. She turned back to the door. Without looking at Suley, she said, “I’ll meet you tomorrow. We’ll put an end to your noise.”
***
Ophir nearly swallowed her tongue in her surprise. She’d expected Dwyn had returned with tea and run out of hands, rendering her unable to open the door. She’d expected the knock to have come from impatient kicking, not from awell-dressed guard. She was glad she’d tucked herself into tall socks and a nightdress meant for sleep. Opening the door in her towel—or worse, following Dwyn’s insistence on nudity when in the bedroom—would not have improved conditions.
She stood at the door, eyes wide, staring at Harland.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Ophir looked over her shoulder at the room that had become her entire world. Her four-post bed, her writing desk, her mirror and armoire, her bathing room, and the heavy curtains that blocked the light of the garden. If it weren’t for the servants’ insistence on getting her up and out of bed, the sheets would be a rumpled mess, her clothes would be on the floor, and empty bottles of water and wine would be strewn about the chamber. Instead, she looked at a profoundly clean, empty room. Dwyn had left on some unknown mission, though given the empty teacups, she assumed it was for a fresh pitcher. Tyr had set out to announce himself to the castle as a new arrival. This might be the only opportunity for true privacy with Harland. But did she want it?
He didn’t push. His hazel eyes, green dotted with flecks of brown and gold, turned down with an intimacy that she knew all too well. The dark stones of Gwydir cast a dramatic backdrop against his gold-brown hair, creating a stark outline for the fair fae in her doorway. Nervous tension kept his shoulders back, his muscles rigid. It told her that Harland had no idea whether she’d let him in or burn him with a ball of flame. Despite his concerns, he faced her, prepared for the consequences.
Ophir released a breath. A sadness washed over her. He had been her friend. Her ally. Her confidant, drinking buddy, and lover. Now he faced her like a man quite literally prepared to burn.
She pushed the door open, stepping away and gesturing for Harland to enter. He looked uncertainly about the space.
“He’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Harland looked at her.
“I know that you two know of each other’s existence—you know, beyond Henares. Tyr’s introducing himself to the court at present. It was time for him to make friends in the castle.”
Harland’s lips parted in a question, but he closed them again. Clearly, he’d come with something else on his mind and now was not the time to be sidetracked. His eyes raked over her with aching slowness. It wasn’t the lust she’d seen gleam from time to time, nor the jolly friendship, the coy banter, or even the cat and mouse of ward-and-charge. He looked at her with nothing but pain.
“I failed you,” he said.
She looked away. They hadn’t been alone like this in a long, long time. For years, Harland had been the only person who’d rivaled Caris for her attention. She’d had friends, and parties, and social circles before the incident. She’d enjoyed alcohol, dancing, and lovers before the sharp end of a dagger had sliced through an abdomen and ended life as she had known it.
