Page 53 of A Frozen Pyre
Dwyn had seen manufacturing exactly three times in her life. The first had been before the age of seven in the company of her parents, years before they’d informed her that she was too chaotic and unlovable to live with them. The second had been in her third decade of life. She’d smiled as a manufacturer had worked with a fae to create a luck charm. The fae woman, imbued with fortune, had bowed and begun the auction for the sacred object at more than Dwyn’s life was worth. The third had taken place in Aubade only a fewmonths after her arrival in the southern kingdom. She’d watched a manufacturer and a fae with the desired ability cup their hands together as they brought their vision into the world.
“Are you ready?” Galena asked.
Dwyn let her hands bloom like a flower, palms open and ready.
Galena made no attempt to conceal her disbelief as she joined hands with the siren.
“Picture what you want,” Dwyn said, closing her eyes. “Just… See your power flowing into Suley’s cuff.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Galena asked.
“It will,” Dwyn said, eyes closed.
It wasn’t the seamless magical event Dwyn might have imagined. She didn’t peel back her hands to reveal a flawless cuff. Regardless, despite a number of misshapen bangles, a collection of grunts, three agitated noises from Galena, and a high-pitched whine from Suley, Dwyn convinced them to try and try again. The morning light that streamed through the window disappeared behind the gray, overcast clouds of a bubbling sky. Their frustrated noises were lost against the chirping birds and distant lutist.
Dwyn groaned. She dropped her hands from Galena’s and bared her teeth as she looked toward the music floating through the door. “Maybe I need to speak to the lutist.”
“No,” Suley said quickly.
Galena’s lips twisted into a frown. “If the music is disturbing her…”
“It’s not,” Suley said curtly. She glared at Dwyn, and Dwyn returned the fire.
Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t in need of a new power source. Her metals were still bending. Objects were crafting. Her cup had not emptied. That said, she didn’t appreciate Suley cutting off her possibilities.
Dwyn wasn’t sure how much time she’d lost to the sun’s slow passage across the sky. She didn’t care how manydisappointed faces Suley made or how many irritated noises came from Galena. She’d done her due diligence before arriving in Suley’s room. Her actions would undoubtedly be a series of mysterious tragedies mourned by families and communities for years to come, but that was the price of art. The leader of the Blood Pact had once told the members of her gang that they couldn’t make omelets without breaking a few eggs, though she hardly believed he’d invented the saying. Despite leaving Sulgrave’s blood gang and everyone within it, she’d retained his irreverent saying.
Sometimes eggs had to crack.
Despite the sun’s disappearance behind the clouds, the bright, shadowless day told her she’d nearly surpassed the noon bell. She grabbed Galena’s hands a bit too roughly, intentionally ignoring Suley’s silent disappointment from across the room as she squeezed Galena’s fingers a final time. When she pulled her hands away, two halves of an antiqued-yellow cuff rested in them.
A slow, proud smile spread across her mouth as she turned her face toward Suley.
Suley heard the proud exclamation in her mind long before anything was spoken. She snatched the halves from Dwyn’s hands and banged them uselessly together around her bicep.
“Hold still,” Dwyn murmured, calling on the ability to speak to metal. She fused the cuff together before meeting Suley’s stare.
Suley’s braids swished from side to side as she looked at them doubtfully. “Galena, can you leave? So I know if the device working, that is, or if it’s only quiet in your presence?”
Galena headed to the door. “How far do you need me to go?”
Suley shifted her weight impatiently. “I’ll call on you tomorrow, I promise. Would you give me some time?”
Clearly unhappy with the outcome of the morning’s taxing events, Galena departed.
Dwyn and Suley waited in silence for a long, long time. Suley ran to the door and demanded that the lutist cease his playing.
“I’ve heard it said that you speak to water?” she asked, voice hushed.
Dwyn flicked her wrist and paused the fountain without further prompting.
The birds continued chirping, but Suley’s eyes showed something else entirely. They widened with each moment that passed, eyebrows lifting, fingers clenching the cool, gilded metal of her cuff. The birds continued to sing to one another, unbothered. Gray light refracted off of Suley’s shocked profile, glinting off of the slope of her nose, the curve of her cheek, the bright gleam in her eyes.
“It’s so quiet,” she said at long last.
“And?” Dwyn prompted. “Prove to me that I shouldn’t kill you right now. What information do you have that was worth such a gift?”
“And,” Suley said, “everyone at the summit—save for Ceneth and his advisors—knows that you murdered Caris.”
