Page 32 of A Frozen Pyre
In a rare moment of honesty, she said, “I don’t know if I can.”
Suley’s nod was fast and encouraging. “If anyone can, it’s you. Yes, I’ve seen. Yes, I see. You’ve done it all, Dwyn. I don’t care who you have to kill. Kill them all.”
The words could have been comforting on someone else’s tongue. In a way, this complete stranger understood her and didn’t judge her. This was the first time she felt fully seen, and it was terrifying.
A rare burble of panicked tears threatened to choke her. “I don’t even know what ability that is! Neutralizing is temporary! I’ve never heard of something like this. It’s—”
“Make me mortal,” Suley said, eyes wide.
Dwyn recoiled further. “I can’t!”
“If anyone can,” Suley emphasized, “it’s you. If there’s a solution, you can find it. I’ve seen what you’ve done. I know—”
Dwyn took a step back, moving out of the alcove and into the hall. “How can I even trust that you know anything? Why would I believe you? Clearly, you’re desperate. And not that I blame you, but desperate times call for—”
“I’ll tell you one now, a smaller truth now. Then once you believe me, you will take away the noise. Once you do, I’ll tell you the bigger truth. Yes?”
Dwyn’s entire face puckered in confusion.
“I hear you. I hear the problems. I hear your struggle. Agree to my terms, and I will tell you.”
Dwyn squeezed her eyes tightly to clear her head, then leveled her gaze. “Fine,” she said. “If you tell me something useful and honest, then I will do what I can to remove your ability. Once I do, you owe me your bigger truth. And if you lied, and there is no bigger truth—”
“Yes, you will murder me. I understand: you’re very violent,” she said dismissively.
“So?” Dwyn asked, voice dripping with impatience.
“Ophir was not alone in that meeting. A man was with her. Someone you know, I believe. Someone in the unseen space. Someone called Tyr.”
Part II
Unravel
Twelve
Ophir’s throat constricted as a high, horrible sound slicedher courtyard meeting with the queen in half. She and Zita whipped their heads toward the castle following a bone-chilling scream. The bushes, the cloudless sky, the relaxing statues in the gardens fell away as her eyes fixed on the door that separated them from unknown horrors.
A thousand possibilities flashed through Ophir’s mind. Her first thought was a childlike fear: intruders, strangers, invasion. Her second was far more likely: they were living through the Sunrise Slaughter of Midnah all over again, and her creations were to blame.
“Hassain!” Zita called for her man’s readiness, but it was unnecessary.
The guard’s hand had flown to the hilt of his sword the moment they’d heard the scream. He took off toward the noise.
Someone else might have frozen, or hidden, or run away. Not Ophir. She rushed from the garden with the queen quick on her heels. They scarcely exchanged glances as they hiked their skirts and rushed over the stones. The single screams became two, three, dozens of voices reacting in horror.
“Stay back, Your Majesty,” Hassain urged.
Sedit? Ophir prayed her hound hadn’t darted into the castle. She’d commanded him to stay away and would be horrified if her demonic beast had rushed in on the servants.
Hassain unsheathed his weapon and crouched, ready to strike, as he moved toward the impending danger.
Neither Ophir nor Zita, it seemed, was one to take advice. They hurried behind the man. Ophir was confident she could handle whatever nightmare gripped Castle Gwydir, first with flame, then with everything she possessed. It was challenging to run in skirts, but they rounded two corners and pushed past the door to the kitchen to see—
Shit.
Ophir skidded to a halt. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
A pot of stew bubbled happily over the crackling fire. Half-sliced bread remained on the counter. Piles of fruit and chocolates had been pushed to one side. A single bottle of wine was tipped over, the berry-dark liquid dripping from the butcher-block table onto the stone floor, as if everyone had been halted in the middle of suppertime duties.
