Page 45 of A Frozen Pyre (Villains #2)

“It shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll have a plan before the wedding day. Just wait for my word. I promise: Neither of us will disappear as a result of this wedding. We’ve lost enough. Both of us.”

The fire crackled. The bones of the cottage creaked.

“If I die, you die. The rings wouldn’t just meld our wills. They’re mutually assured destruction. What would Farehold stand to gain from my death? Wouldn’t they want me to live on and rule in the north?”

The corner of Ceneth’s mouth quirked, though he did not meet her gaze.

“It comforts me to hear you refer to them as Farehold . But if I had to guess, it’s meant to ensure that we do die, and whatever young, moldable heir we leave in our stead can be steered by your parents. They’ve assured you’ll conceive.”

“They want me dead.” Ophir almost laughed, though the sound stuck in her throat.

“They’re afraid of you. You’re a threat because you can’t be controlled. Honestly, Ophir… I think Caris would be proud.”

The laugh morphed into something akin to a sob, though the tears would not come.

“Zita asked a favor of me,” Ophir said, breaking the stretch of silence.

“Oh?”

She nodded slowly. “It was a plea, really, about the status quo. She asked that whatever I do… I do something .”

It was Ceneth’s turn to raise a brow. “And? Will you?”

She chewed on her lip for a long minute. Ophir leaned against a chair for support, tapping her fingers rhythmically against its surface. “Would you seize Aubade?”

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 King of 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?”

Ophir nodded, a tiny seed of gratitude sprouting at both his memory of her pet’s species and in the way he neither scowled nor recoiled as he regarded the beast.

“As I’m to go on ahead, I can ask Zita if she’d like to take credit for bringing the beast from Tarkhany as a wedding present.

It would allow you to keep Sedit with you in the castle.

Additionally, it might prove helpful to keep the animals’ origins focused to one climate, to allow the people to make sense of them.

Of course, she may decline the affiliation with your creations, which is her right. ”

Ophir silently agreed. When they’d said all that they had to say, she watched the king leave, listening to the mighty rustle of feathers as he took off into the air.

After enough time had passed that even the keenest of fae ears couldn’t possibly overhear, Ophir looked to Dwyn.

“So, you have a reputation as a traveling fae to uphold.”

“Happy to oblige.” Dwyn smiled, and she truly did seem happy. She extended a hand to Ophir and helped her up out of the bed. “Are we keeping the haunted hermit attire?”

Ophir looked down at herself. “I think I pull it off.”

“You absolutely do. Now, we have people to find.”

She hesitated, and Dwyn returned the quizzical look. Ophir finally asked, “Is Tyr truly gone?”

Dwyn’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. She took a few steps toward the door and relaxed against the wall as she said, “There aren’t words for how sorry I am, Firi.”

“I just… We’ve been through hell. We’ve been to the corners of the continent. We’ve shared…” Ophir’s face heated as her eyes pricked with tears. She knew if she kept speaking, she’d lose the battle against the dam threatening to break within her.

Dwyn tilted her head, allowing the curtain of her night-dark hair to tumble down her shoulders. Her eyes softened as she said, “You never should have had to feel like this.”

“The last thing I remember was him burying the human. After he came in and washed his hands… I can’t believe I started drinking so quickly.

I’ve gotten drunk more times than I can count, Dwyn, but this is a blackout I’ve never experienced.

I don’t know why he’d need to wait for me to be inebriated like that.

He could have just claimed he’d gone out for wood and never come back. He…”

“I do believe he cared for you,” Dwyn said sympathetically.

“Perhaps he knew that if you had the chance to talk him out of leaving, you’d succeed.

I know you could have talked me in or out of anything.

Maybe this was the only way he could do what needed to be done.

Saying goodbye while you were intoxicated was the only way he could get his closure and leave you unable to fight. ”

The look on his face when he’d lifted his arm and tucked her against his chest on the floor of the shack had blotted into her memories like ink staining unblemished paper.

She was sure she’d never forget the crack through his strength as he’d regarded her, holding her, warming her, making her feel safe and loved and protected.

She hadn’t just trusted him. She’d loved him.

And then he’d left.

“So, how long do we hang out in the forest before we use my amazing powers of lightning-like travel?” Dwyn asked, wriggling her fingers as if to summon such power.

Perhaps she could see Ophir tumbling down the deep, dark well of her memories.

It would serve neither of them if Ophir lost herself to her wounds.

“You’re a feral animal,” Ophir chuckled, though pain bubbled to the top of the sound. She rallied for strength as she said, “I suppose we need to get hunting if you need fresh blood.”

“No time to waste! Kitty’s hungry.”

Ophir cringed. “For the love of the goddess, don’t call yourself that.”

Dwyn flashed her teeth, pleased with herself.

She opened the door and made a sweeping gesture to the dense forest that encroached upon the cabin.

A layer of early-winter frost was just beginning to thaw in the sunlight as her feet crunched over snapping pine needles.

Ophir stepped into the chilly, conifer-scented air as Dwyn said, “Now that I know it bothers you, I’ll never refer to myself as anything else.

Off we go, Princess. Places to be, forests to tackle, people to kill. ”