Page 41 of A Frozen Pyre (Villains #2)

Tyr lowered his brows in near-paternal disappointment. “Listen, Princess—”

“Listen, nothing ,” she said. “Your opinions don’t matter. Agree with me. Disagree. I don’t care. You can’t make me do anything. You can’t make me go anywhere. Try. I dare you.” Ophir flung her hands out and flexed her fingers with her threat.

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. I do think 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 for your 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 for you . 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 from Ophir 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.

“You can’t be serious.” Ophir glared at the woman.

“Listen,” Dwyn said. “It took a long-ass time for Tyr and I to find common ground. We spent decades feuding long before we found our common ground in you, Firi. But as much as I hate the dog, he’s right.

There’s nothing for you here. And you seem to be the only goddess we recognize.

Do us all a favor, and let’s get out of here. ”

Ophir’s hands clenched into fists. “Don’t pretend you want me to go back for the same reasons.”

Dwyn cocked a brow. “What’s it matter? Neither of us wants you in this cabin.”

Tyr’s laugh was a cold, hard sound. “It matters. She kicked you out once before for deceiving her, Dwynie. Did you like sleeping on the ground in Henares? Do you want to keep lying to our princess?”

Ice overtook the cabin as Dwyn’s expression hardened. Frost filled her gaze as she looked at Tyr, motionless. With an arctic clip to each word, she asked, “And what lie am I telling?”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “We kept our bargains, witch. I got mine, and you got yours. Now tell her.”

“Three minutes,” Dwyn said. “You were in my good graces for roughly three minutes. What a record. Savor this moment, Tyr. Enjoy the last few heartbeats before you lose everything.”

They were speaking of her as if she weren’t there. Ophir waved a hand to gain their attention, but they were locked in a standoff. In a bid to break their icy stares, she demanded, “Lose what? Tell me what?”

But neither of them looked at her. They remained locked in a battle she’d seen time and time again to various degrees.

She saw the barest tips of the tattoo that crawled up Tyr’s neck, and then her eyes went to the hip where she knew a matching mark wrapped around Dwyn.

They were inexplicably bound. Enemies forced into an alliance with a shared lover and a blood pact, they’d never had more in common than their hair color and their ink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dwyn said.

“Do you want to bet?” Tyr retorted.

Dwyn crossed her arms calmly. Her fingers tapped a pattern against her bicep as she relaxed into the stance.

“Just when I thought we’d found common ground, you go and prove your worthlessness.

You feel good about yourself? You know how to drain, and now you’re ready to be top dog?

So many know the one thing you still believe you hold over my head.

Go ahead, Tyr. Make your bid for alpha. Be my guest.” She tilted her head with purely predatory intent.

His intensity wilted at the poison in her eyes. He broke Dwyn’s stare and looked to Ophir. “I want what’s best for you, Princess. I want you to stand up for yourself. I want you to live a good life. I want you to succeed. And I don’t want you to share a bed with your sister’s killer.”

Ophir’s head tilted until it mirrored Dwyn’s on the far side of the room. She knitted her brows. She could tell from his fiery passion that she was meant to be filled with fear, or adrenaline, or panic, but she felt only confusion. Her hair tickled her arm, but she continued to hold Tyr’s eyes.

He took a step toward her. “Dwyn killed Caris.”

He held his ground as Dwyn threw up her hands in exasperation. She made a tired sound as she stepped back toward the wall and leaned against the logs, utterly disinterested in the man and his rant. She began to pick at the dirt under her nails.

“No,” Ophir said carefully, “Berinth killed Caris.”

Tyr scrunched his face. “You know he wasn’t in his right mind, Princess.

You know it wasn’t even his real name! You know someone else was pulling those puppet strings.

You saw him in the dungeon. You knew right up until the very end.

The morning of the execution, your winged demon spoke to the killer, and we both know it wasn’t talking to Lord Berinth. ”

“It was Berinth’s knife,” Ophir repeated. She pressed her fingertips into her temples, assaulted by another one of her headaches.

“What aren’t you hearing?” Tyr practically cried the words. “It’s Dwyn, Ophir! It was always Dwyn! She’s orchestrated everything. She needed to get close to you. She needed an in. She needed Caris gone. She—”

“Please, stop. My heart hurts,” she said.

He stopped in his tracks. He held Ophir’s eyes for a long moment before looking to Dwyn. As her mouth tugged up in a slow, calculating smile, the blood drained from his face. “Dwyn, what did you do.”

She ceased inspecting her nails long enough to shrug. “You were right, Tyr. Dishonesty got me into trouble before. I couldn’t let that happen again. Are you glad you rejoined my list of archnemeses for this?”