Page 55 of A Frozen Pyre (Villains #2)

Thirty-Two

“Princess Ophir?”

Ophir popped her head up from between two milky thighs.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dwyn pouted.

“Who is it?” Ophir called over Dwyn’s knee.

Dwyn groaned and grabbed the pillow beside them. She slammed it on top of her head. “Now that you know how to drain, can you go kill her for us?”

“I’m sorry.” Ophir rested her head on Dwyn’s knee. “We can finish later. But murdering my future subject for interrupting sex is in poor taste.”

“You’re right,” Dwyn agreed, hips rolling as if desperate to consider their session. “We do it like the queens of yore. Off with her head.”

Ophir wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What is it?”

The woman cracked open the door, scarcely giving Ophir enough time to yank the sheet up over her breasts.

Dwyn couldn’t be bothered to shift beneath the covers.

The attendant had caught them together on more than one occasion and was unable to be fazed.

She’d seen Dwyn’s bare body nearly as many times as Ophir.

The woman leveled them a tired, unimpressed face as she said, “We’re to begin packing for the journey south for your wedding. ”

She rested on the final word as she looked between Ophir and her naked companion.

Emboldened by the challenge, Ophir raised a brow. “I can’t wait. I’m sure my future husband is thrilled,” she said.

The attendant looked exhausted. “Ceneth has instructed us to accommodate your requests. He suggested that you and your companion might have alternate modes of travel. Would you like attendants to travel with you and Lady Dwyn?”

From beneath the pile of pillows, Dwyn said, “I’m no lady.”

Ophir concealed a smirk. “When does he plan to depart?”

“Today, Your Grace. Even flying, he expects it will take a few days. There was talk of asking your companion to travel the party members individually, until someone pointed out that it was her secondary power. I suppose it’s only safe for her to use it once or twice.”

Ophir blanched at the idea of Dwyn being backed into a corner of having to merrily transport dozens of members of the Raascot court.

“You’re right,” Ophir said quickly. “Even with the two of us alone, she’ll be sick for days after. If it will take Ceneth a few days to travel, then Dwyn and I will remain in the castle until he’s projected to arrive in Aubade. I don’t desire to arrive on the coast ahead of time.”

The woman hesitated, and Ophir was curious how bold her attendant was.

Would she ask why Ophir wasn’t interested in planning for her wedding?

In seeing her parents? In watching the sun set over the western horizon in the days preceding her nuptials?

But no. The woman said none of that. If Ophir hadn’t made her disrespect to the castle, her betrothed, and her title clear enough, she’d take every opportunity to do so now, should she be pressed.

She suspected that the attendant saw all of this and more, for she merely nodded and said, “I’ll be back this afternoon to help you pack before I depart. Another attendant will stay behind to see to your needs while you remain in the castle. I’ll be ready in Aubade to receive you, Princess Ophir.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Ophir said.

The woman’s brows met in the middle.

“Help me pack, if you will. But I have attendants in Aubade I’ve known for decades.

I don’t mind spending a few days with them before I return to Gwydir to live out my days.

You and I have a long future ahead of us.

Why not give yourself a reprieve and take a holiday while I’m on the coast?

Unless you have a deep-seated urge to watch two star-crossed lovers in their royal wedding. ”

“I do not, Your Highness.”

Ophir chuckled lightly at the woman’s frankness. “Then please, go see your family. Do something nice for yourself. Don’t worry about me.”

“As you wish,” she said. But as she closed the door, Ophir thought she caught the first appreciative glimmer she’d ever seen on the attendant’s face.

They scarcely had the time to roll out of bed and help each other into their gowns before another knock broke their secretive chatter.

Ophir slammed her mouth shut as if whoever was at the door could possibly have understood what “draining” meant or what it was they’d accomplished only one day before.

Dwyn rolled her eyes as she marched toward the door, face set to give the attendant an earful.

“Unless you’ve returned with tea—”

Ophir peered over Dwyn’s shoulder to see who’d succeeded in stopping her sentence in its tracks. Suley stood in the doorway.

Dwyn pushed the door open a bit farther and dropped her arm, but she didn’t step aside.

“Dwyn,” Suley said, nodding first at the siren. “Princess Ophir,” came her acknowledgment as she called into the room. “Queen Zita and I request your presence in a meeting.”

Ophir moved toward the door before Dwyn had a chance to say something snarky. She stood beside Dwyn, shoulder to shoulder. “When?”

Suley looked between them. “Now, Your Highness. And Lady Dwyn is invited.”

Dwyn’s face changed. Her brows lowered, setting with cool suspicion as she stared at Suley.

“Where is this meeting?” Dwyn asked.

Ophir didn’t understand the odd ice that had entered her voice. Cautious hostility rolled off her like smoke.

“Please, follow me,” Suley said.

Ophir took a step forward, but Dwyn positioned her arm to block her advance. Ophir blinked at the forearm acting as a barricade, then frowned up at Dwyn.

“No,” Dwyn said.

Ophir and Suley exchanged surprised glances.

“Dwyn,” Ophir whispered, “Zita and I have an agreement. She and I—”

“Have her come,” Dwyn said.

Suley’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You want the queen to fetch you? As if she’s a common attendant?”

“Yes,” she said, word clipped. Every passing moment grew colder between them.

They exchanged unblinking glares in challenge. Ophir took a half step backward into the room as she watched the incomprehensible standoff.

“Fine,” Suley said at last. She turned on her heel but only made it a few steps before Dwyn called out after her.

“Both Zita and whoever the hell you are.”

Suley’s shoulders jolted toward her ears. She tilted her head, cursing to herself quietly in their native tongue. When she relaxed her posture, she turned with slow, cool command. She rolled her shoulders, then her neck. Suley returned to the doorway and leaned against the door.

“What gave it away?”

Dwyn offered a single dark chuckle. “Aside from the piercings?”

“These fucking piercings,” Suley muttered to herself.

“Suley and I are a lot of things, but we’re not ladies. She would never have referred to me as such. Now, I’m not sure if I care who you are or what you want. But I’ll tell you that the next words out of your mouth will determine whether you live or die.”

Ophir’s eyes flared dramatically. Her heart caught in her throat as she took another backward step. “Are you saying…” She looked at Dwyn, but the siren did not look away from Suley. “Is this not Suley? What the hell is happening?”

Dwyn shrugged, eyes still trained on Suley. “I’m not sure, Ophir. Have you come across any shapeshifters other than during our dramatic sunrise in Tarkhany? Because I’d put my money on this being the same bastard.”

Adrenaline pumped through her. “Sedit,” she called. The vageth trotted up beside her and planted its feet, baring its fangs against the person wearing Suley’s face. She saw the whites of Suley’s eyes as the woman gasped at her demon.

“It’s like the dragon,” she said, voice thick with fear and disgust as she leaned away from the bedroom.

“You have until the count of three,” Dwyn said testily. “One, two—”

“Wait.” Suley lifted a hand. “It’s not just me, I swear it. Zita and Ceneth are already in the war room. It has no windows, and no chance of being overheard. Zita knows who and what I am, and it’s part of why we need all of us in the same room.”

“For what?” Dwyn demanded.

Suley looked down the corridor in either direction before saying, “For the wedding.”