Page 74 of A Frozen Pyre
“Stop,” Ophir said weakly. She struggled to do something, to intervene, but the spinning continued, rendering her useless.
Tyr stood, but his feet were frozen to the cabin floor.
“Leave.”
“She doesn’t deserve this,” Tyr said coldly.
“She deserves love. I love her,” Dwyn said. “I’ll give her the world, even at the expense of not letting her stand in herown way.”
He opened the door and flinched at another pained sound as Ophir fell to one knee. Sedit began barking, blaming Tyr for his master’s pain as he retreated. He looked over his shoulder sadly as he said, “There are things love is, and things it isn’t.”
Dwyn wiggled her fingers to dismiss him without looking up.
Ophir looked up into Dwyn’s face for help in the final moment before the spinning darkness claimed her and her world went black.
Twenty-Five
Ophir opened her eyes to the rise and fall of Sedit’s chest.Slick, shiny skin clutched his ribs, lungs filling and deflating with every carrion-filled breath. He twitched in his sleep, large eye clenching in synchronicity with the two smaller eyes below them. His claws shot out, accompanied by a whimper as he moved. They retracted a moment later as he settled back into regular breathing. She wondered what sort of nightmare would haunt an unkillable creature.
“I assume he dreams of you,” came Dwyn’s voice.
Ophir sat slowly, gasping against the ache in her temples as if she’d suffered a hangover. “What?”
Dwyn leaned into her chair. “I think the only thing that would scare Sedit is seeing you hurt.”
Ophir absently wondered if Dwyn could hear her thoughts. She looked back at Sedit, watching him twitch again as he huffed, attempting to run for an unseen enemy in his nightmare. She didn’t entertain the idea for long before asking, “Are there any healing tonics in the cabin?”
Dwyn shook her head apologetically.
Ophir groaned as she leaned her head against the logs of the cabin wall. She searched her memory for images of the cabin rather than opening her eyes. There was only one smallcabinet, and it lacked doors. None of the bottles had been the telltale brown packaged by healers. A pile of blankets, a cupboard of pots, pans, and plates, a pantry of dry goods, four windows, a door, a hearth, an uneven table, two wooden chairs, a bed, a vageth, a hungover princess, a Sulgrave fae. She brought her hand to her head as she asked, “Where’s Tyr?”
Dwyn’s lower lip puckered. She abandoned whatever she’d been busying herself with at the table. “You don’t remember?”
The attempt to shake her head only exacerbated her headache. She winced.
“Lay down, Firi. I’ll get you some cold water.”
“When is he coming back?”
Dwyn sighed loudly. She gestured to the overturned bottles. “We drank alotlast night. Things got…weird.”
Ophir grunted against the pain and the statement alike as she said, “We’ve been trapped in a hate threesome for months. How much weirder can they possibly get?”
She was met with an appreciative, considering face before Dwyn said, “Maybeweirdwas the wrong word. Tyr got what he came to Farehold for, Firi. He’s returning to Sulgrave to use what he learned to get vengeance for Svea. He’s gone.”
The intricately linked log walls wobbled as her eyes struggled to focus. She rubbed her temples. “What do you mean?”
Dwyn chewed her lip. She followed Ophir’s line of sight and looked at the wall for a minute before asking, “Why do you call me a siren?”
Ophir attempted to chuckle, which only worsened her headache. “A water fae who drains the lives of unsuspecting sailors? You’re the only one I’ve met, but it’s textbook siren lore. I’m still disappointed that you aren’t from the Isles.”
“My power is water,” Dwyn said.
“Yes, water, and—”
“There is no ‘and.’ You know of the Reds. You know of blood magic. Why have you given me special allowances?”
Ophir gnawed on the thought. “Reds grow ill. Bloodmagic is outlawed. You’ve never fallen sick from what you do, just like the folk creatures of the sea.”
