Page 73 of A Frozen Pyre
“You conditioned her not to have a response to the onlypiece of information that could be your undoing. You used your final power to tell her.”
Ophir continued to watch the two talk, blinking curiously at Tyr as he deflated. The strength leached from his posture as his shoulders slumped. The damp cloud that had engulfed Dwyn for days was gone as well, as if it had abandoned her to settle over him.
“I know,” Dwyn said. “You know. Ophir knows. For the goddess’s sake, even Sedit knows, now.” Sedit growled, and she sent the hound a wink. “You know the only true difference, Tyr? I tolerated you. I made good on my end of the bargain and taught you precisely what you sought to know. You can drain, dog. Go back to Sulgrave and avenge your murdered pet. Fulfill your life’s purpose. But if you know what’s good for you, you won’t stay here. You’ve crossed a line, dog. You’ve made an unforgiving enemy.”
“You can drain?” Ophir’s confusion deepened. “What does she mean?”
He looked only at Dwyn. “You can’t make me leave.”
“I can,” she replied, ignoring Ophir. “I’ve yet to do anything with the life I’ve taken from our belated hermit here. Perhaps I can’t kill you, but Ophir can.”
“Hey!” Ophir said, flaring to life. Horror consumed her as she gaped at Dwyn. “Are you implying what I think you are?”
Dwyn made the barest of winces as she laughed it off. “I’m exaggerating to make a point, Firi. We don’t want the dog here. In the last ten minutes, he’s yelled at you and tried to drive us apart. Enough is enough.”
His face paled. “You wouldn’t.”
But Dwyn’s face told a different story.
“Ophir?” Dwyn said innocently.
Ophir turned to Dwyn in a swirl of confusion and anger. Their words tumbled over her like arrows, some hitting a wall, others soaring beyond the barricade and into the fortress of her mind. She struggled to sort through fury and disgustand the strange, quiet voids where no emotion reached her. She looked up at Tyr, chewing her lip as she flinched against a budding migraine. Pain lanced through her temple, throbbing as arrow after arrow bounced, hit, embedded, and fell. She closed her eyes against the too-bright cabin, the too-loud room, the too-upsetting sights and sounds of her companions as they fought. She struggled to drown out Dwyn’s final words as she spoke.
“See?” Dwyn asked. “Her brain can’t accept the competing truths. You’re fucking up my handiwork and making life harder for her. Is that what you want? To hurt her?”
“Why didn’t you do this from the beginning? If it’s a puppet you want, why not brainwash her and rule as queen, plucking her strings?”
Dwyn made a disgusted noise. “Because I love her. I want her to embrace her power. I want us to rule together. Firi and I have seen our combined potential, and it is glorious. The only thing standing between us right now is you.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Go, and I won’t have you killed. I don’t think very highly of you, dog, but I don’t think you’re stupid enough to put it past me.”
He pushed back, but there was no longer brimstone in his voice. It was with the cool resolution of a foregone conclusion that he asked, “Why wouldn’t you do it now? Set yourself free.”
Dwyn clicked her tongue. “She’d do it, but she’d feel guilty and be confused and probably miss you. I’d have to handle that meltdown until I found someone new to drain, and I have no idea how far away the next homestead may be.”
“You can’t,” Tyr challenged. “If you give the order for Ophir to kill me, then you kill me, and you die.”
Dwyn hummed thoughtfully before deciding, “You’re right. It’s messier to try to kill you, when it’s so easy to let you live and ruin her opinion of you forever. As it stands, I’ll have to use the hermit’s life to make her forget this exchange.It’s a wasted power, and I hate you for that. I was going to use it to make us a nicer meal. You owe me a life.”
It was as though cotton filled Ophir’s ears. Her world spun. Everything around her muffled slightly against a high, muted hum. She looked up through the pulsing pain at the two of them. Light throbbed as if the sun itself flared in the cabin as she battled to see the two before her. Sedit’s agitation grew, matching the excruciating confusion that ebbed and swelled with every passing word. Tyr’s face melted in clear concern. He reached out for her, but Dwyn tsked.
“See? Sedit’s agitated now that his mother is upset. Perhaps the vageth will murder you and end this.”
“You’re the one upsetting her, Dwyn. Are you sure you won’t be the one the hound kills? Clock’s ticking.”
Dwyn appeared to consider this. “The best thing you can do for her is go. Then I can fix this and put her right again.”
He took a half step back. “You’re a monster.”
“Have an original thought,” she sighed, exasperated.
Ophir’s mouth dried. She clutched at her chest, begging the palpitations to stop.
“Good luck crafting something she’ll swallow,” Tyr said. “She won’t believe I abandoned her. Not truly. She knows I wouldn’t.”
Dwyn pushed off from the wall and walked toward Ophir. She rested her hand lightly on Ophir’s back as a pained sound escaped her lips. “The longer you stay, the harder you’re making this on her. Alleviate her suffering and go so I can fix her.”
