Page 71 of A Frozen Pyre
Tyr squared up for the fight. “Do it.”
She lifted one brow.
“Do it,” he repeated. He planted one foot in front of the other and pointed to the ground as he underscored the seriousness of his stance. “Call a dragon. Create a serpent. Summon an army of salamander hounds.”
“Vageths,” Dwyn said quietly from the corner, then looked away as if regretting speaking at all.
Ophir’s temper flared. “What, you don’t think I will?”
He laughed. The sound was the cold, loveless noise of coal tumbling into a firepit. “That’s the thing, Princess. Idothink you will. I think you’re shortsighted enough that you will destroy your shelter, your friends, everyone you care about just to prove a point. I think your pride is stronger than your love, logic, or loyalty.”
“Fuck you,” she seethed.
“You have,” he bit right back, “and goddess be damned, you enjoyed it.”
She turned away in disgust, hands falling to her sides. Her flame scalded her from within as her face burned with anger. Sedit barked once in furious solidarity.
Tyr took a step closer. “Go back to Gwydir, and I’ll go with you. Stay here, run, choose to let everyone around you win, to let the kingdoms and rulers and outside forces define who you are and where you get to be, and effectively and tell Dwyn and I that we don’t matter. Stay here and send us away.”
She whipped her head up again to judge the seriousness in his voice. He’d narrowed his eyes, stare unwavering. “Why do you want to return?” she asked. “You’ve never wanted power or riches or titles or—”
“For fuck’s sake, Princess. I care about you. I’ve watched you jump from sea caves into the ocean. I’ve seen you engulfed in flame. I’ve watched you seek vengeance. I’ve seen you create. And now what are you?You! Creator of demons and dragons and unspeakably ugly hounds—”
“Hey…”
“You are hiding in a cabin because your father was terrible? You want to sleep on a hay mattress and eat rabbits because your dad’s a miserable bastard?” He looked at the woman in the corner of the room. “Dwyn, how’s your relationship with your parents?”
Dwyn abandoned her task, setting down her knife on the chopping block as she said, “It’s terrible, thanks for asking. I hate the monsters.”
“Exactly!” Tyr spun back to her. His voice filled the cabin as he boomed, “Do you think you’re the first person who’s been wronged by someone who was supposed to look out for her? You’re right, Ophir: Your mother and father should have had your back. They should have loved you, and supported you, and not married you off to a faraway kingdom or manipulated you or brought a horrid fertility fae to you. They should have seen you for who you are rather than foryour potential to facilitate their will. But guess what, they didn’t. And they won’t.”
Ophir gaped at him.
“Do you know what you get to do now, Princess?”
She blinked, tongue-tied as she leaned away from his lecture.
His gestures became more animated as he continued, emboldened with every word. “You get to avenge every son and daughter and child who was mistreated. You get to stand up to not only your oppressors but to those who wronged kingdoms and peoples and generations. And you’re going to run off? With the power to create life from your fingertips? If you don’t have the ability to fight back, then what hope does any disenfranchised child have?”
She drew in a ragged breath. “Are you saying…”
“Get revenge, Ophir. Get back at the man who wronged you.”
Both women looked at him as if he were a talking animal. It was Dwyn who said, “What happened to you?”
He huffed out a lungful of air. He began to throw up his hands, then caught himself halfway through the motion as he controlled himself. From his face, she could see he’d realized how he’d let his emotions run. He calmed before saying, “Get back at him foryou. Why should he decide that you don’t get to heal? Why should your parents or your kingdom or your heritage determine whether you move forward or if you flee? Don’t run away from something. Run toward it. It’s what I’m doing. I ran toward vengeance, and now, I run toward you.”
His words knocked the wind from her lungs.
“But your dog…”
“I’ll kill the men who hurt Svea. I swear it. But the fae life is long, and she’s already with the All Mother. For now, I need you, and you need me.”
Sedit’s shoulder blades cut an intimidating figure as he poised himself to pounce on either of the fae who posed a threat to his creator. He flicked his many-eyed gaze fromOphir to the others, tapping his talons against the cabin floor while he listened to her labored breathing.
After a long pause, Dwyn began to clap.
This was the disrespect Ophir needed to snap back to reality.
