Page 70 of A Frozen Pyre
Ophir stood from the wall, not bothering to slow as Dwyn caught herself against the sudden movement. She stared down at where Dwyn sat on the floor before saying, “You’re right. No one tells me what to do. Including you.”
***
Their fight in the dark of a crumbling building of cracks and nightmares had been three days prior.
Dwyn remained quiet as they awoke and continued theirwalk through the pine forest. She said little as they picked their way over the rocks and mountains. She didn’t celebrate when they found a proper cabin. She didn’t say a thing as Ophir caught the owner’s attention with a wave and a smile, her gold-brown hair and pointed fae ears drawing a curious stare from the hermit. Dwyn didn’t even take joy in draining the unsuspecting human who’d built a quiet life for himself in the countryside. Tyr disposed of the body in a shallow grave between the trees while Dwyn, Ophir, and Sedit made themselves at home.
The home had been rough-hewn from the forest around it. Each tree, a Raasay log, wept with coniferous sap that acted as amber glue, connecting the stacked logs. The four humble walls of the cabin were decorated for a man who lived alone. A hand-sanded table had been pushed against one wall, and a fireplace lined with carefully stacked and balanced stones had been built directly into the wall at the cabin’s center. The hermit’s bed had rested on the floor beside the fire so it might warm him through the night.
Ophir wasn’t sure if she should feel sad that they’d taken the life of a lonely man or glad that it had been someone with no family so he wouldn’t be mourned. As her thoughts flitted to Caris, she settled on the latter. Ophir slipped out of mud- and sweat-slicked clothes and stood in her shift as she attempted to create something soft and lovely. The resulting black dress belonged with her pile of cobwebs, not with fabric worn by humans or fae, but at least it was clean. Dwyn didn’t even react as she stepped out of her shift and tied the dark, draping gown around her figure.
She and Sedit sat on the late homesteader’s bed as Dwyn pulled together a few things from the kitchen and began a proper dinner.
“Has Ophir tried manifesting food?” Tyr asked. He dipped his hands into a shallow basin of clean water that the human must have recently gathered. The dirt and evidence of his gravedigging were washed away with a barof homemade soap.
Ophir made a face, and they both looked expectantly at Dwyn for her retort.
Tyr was the first to speak up. “No witty comeback? Nothing about how she’d probably poison us with anything she made? Or how she should give it a shot and I should try it, or…”
But Dwyn didn’t take the bait. She didn’t look at either of them while she cut into the root vegetables the woodsman had in his kitchen and tossed them into the pot that hung over the hearth.
“You’ve been quiet for almost two full days, Dwyn,” Tyr said.
Ophir scratched Sedit lovingly as she said, “We spoke.”
Tyr looked between them, but Dwyn continued with her task. “And? Is anyone going to fill me in?”
Ophir absently hoped that Dwyn might cook for all of them, but she didn’t hold her breath for such an outcome.
She met the look of concern on his face with the defeat on her own and said, “It’s nothing worth repeating.”
***
On their sixth day, Dwyn and Tyr were in agreement.
“Firi…”
“Stop!” Ophir barked. She missed when they were at one another’s throats.
She bristled at Tyr’s heavy breath, knowing that whatever he said, he was not about to be on her side.
“You aren’t going to live in the woods, Ophir.”
“How the fuck would you know?” she spat. Sedit matched her energy, lips pulling back from his thin, venomous fangs as a low grumble escaped his belly. She was warmed by the solidarity her loyal creature offered.
“Well?” Tyr asked, looking around. “Is this it? Is this your dream life, Ophir? You want to be a frontier woman and live in the woods and drink water from a bucket and catch yourown game? You, the princess I watched laugh and party and revel in life’s many joys—”
“What’s wrong with partying?”
“Nothing!” He clipped out the word, temper flaring. “That’s my point! You were happy! You were yourself! Now, you’re not running toward anything. You’re only running away.”
Ophir blinked in surprise. She looked up at Dwyn and couldn’t determine whether she regretted doing so. Dwyn was looking at him with equal surprise. Her lips were parted slightly in silent agreement, eyes wide as she regarded Tyr.
“For fuck’s sake, you two. Are you happy? You finally agree. Dwyn and Tyr against Ophir. How’s it feel?”
Tyr lowered his brows in near-paternal disappointment. “Listen, Princess—”
“Listen,nothing,” she said. “Your opinions don’t matter. Agree with me. Disagree. I don’t care. You can’t make me do anything. You can’t make me go anywhere. Try. I dare you.” Ophir flung her hands out and flexed her fingers with her threat.
