Page 78 of A Frozen Pyre
He formed a tight line with his lips. “I’m not interested in world domination.”
“Nor am I. But I don’t think things can continue on. Not like this.”
There was a question in his eyes. Ceneth was evaluating her, daring her to say what was on her mind.
Ophir swept in and alleviated his anxiety with four simple words. “Eero can’t be king.”
Ceneth chewed on the prospect “Do you have an alternative?”
She picked at the skin beneath her nails as she considered the question. “No. And I don’t think that matters. If any of us takes the throne to further our agenda, how are we different?”
Ceneth relaxed his posture, allowing his hand to drop from his hilt at long last. He pushed out a breath before asking, “With that, I’d like to formally ask you: Ophir of Farehold, will you marry me?”
***
“Firi?”
Ophir’s eyes flew open to find Dwyn kneeling by the bed. Ceneth was already wide awake. He’d remained in a chair near the table, straddling it like a horse saddle so it might accommodate his wings while he rested his head on crossed arms. He’d adjusted the chair to give rest a try, but she wasn’t convinced he’d gotten any sleep. She looked between the king and the siren.
“You’re back,” Ophir breathed.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here when I returned. I’m sorry to have left you like that,” Dwyn replied.
“Off killing simple mountain folk, I assume?”
Dwyn’s lower lip jutted out in a pout.
Ophir pushed herself into a sitting position. The blanket fell around her, revealing the same gauzy gown she’d worn all day. She raked her fingers through her unbound hair as she fought to shake the cobwebs from her mind.
“You were right,” she said. Dwyn tilted her head cautiously, waiting for Ophir to continue. “I’m going back. I’m returning to Gwydir with Ceneth, and we’ll move forward with the wedding.”
Relief splashed across Dwyn’s face like the very waves to which she called. She threw her arms around Ophir’s neck and practically choked on her happy noises as she breathed through Ophir’s curtain of gold-brown hair. Dwyn tightened her hold until Ophir had to untangle the arms that strangled her.
“Dwyn!”
“Sorry.” She coughed out an apology mingled with strands of hair, but she didn’t look sorry in the least. The rain cloud that had soaked her aura from the moment they’d departed Gwydir had evaporated again. “And we’re leaving now?”
Ophir looked between the two once more. “Ceneth will fly back. He offered to bring me, but I wanted to ensure you knew where I’d gone. Since you have the gift of travel, you can get us both to the castle in no time.” Ophir rested heavily on the first half of her sentence, hoping Dwyn remembered which thread in the web of lies she needed to clutch.
Dwyn didn’t miss a beat. She hopped to her feet, a spring in her step once more. She turned to Ceneth as if he were little more than a common inconvenience as she waved a hand. “Off you go, Your Royalness. I’ll take it from here.”
He made an unimpressed face as he got slowly to his feet. Then, his unamused look transitioned to the discomfort of someone dismounting a horse after a long journey. The Kingof Raascot looked perfectly normal as he grumbled at his aching muscles, aside from the ethereal beauty and angelic wings. Once more, she glimpsed the man Caris had loved so deeply. He looked at Ophir to confirm her security, and she offered a weak smile.
“I’ll give you a moment to warn the others that death personified is returning to your castle grounds.”
He frowned. “They won’t think of you like that.”
She matched his expression. “There’s no use lying to me, Ceneth.”
He was unwavering. “The only people who know you’re a manifester are those who were in the room for the meeting. Word has not spread. The people know only that a dragon set the castle to ruins. They’re creatures of fable brought to life. Rumors have caught on like wildfire speculating as to its origins, but most seem to believe it came from the desert. Its Tarkhany name is already well known.”
“So, all of Raascot knows of the ag’drurath…”
“Yes,” he confirmed as he stepped for the door. He rested his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. “And nothing of its maker. I think it’s in our best interest to keep it that way.”
She blinked, baffled. It hadn’t crossed her mind that such a precious piece of information might stay concealed. Perhaps no one had to learn of her dark gifts. After a moment, she dared ask, “And Sedit?”
He looked to where the creature remained curled. “Your…vageth?”
