A Chill in the Flame (Villains #1)

Thirty-one

Thirty-one

Dwyn and Tyr waited outside with fidgety impatience. Whether they’d heard the conversation or simply been confident in her abilities, it was unclear.

“So?” Dwyn asked.

Sedit trotted at her side as Ophir passed the two without speaking.

“Firi—”

“Don’t.” She spun on them. “Don’t call me that.”

Dwyn raised her hands, eyes wide with true surprise. “What happened in there?”

Ophir looked from one, then to the other. “I’ll be moving forward on my own.”

Dwyn’s eyebrows puckered in the center, but Tyr remained unbothered. He took two steps forward, looping his arm around the princess’s. “No, you won’t.”

“Hey!” She called her fire, and the moment he grabbed her wrist, the fireball stopped short in her palm. It smoked out, leaving her hand empty.

Ophir groaned with her exertion and thrust it forward with her mind alone, but much to her surprise, Dwyn quenched the flame that had been intended for the Sulgrave man.

“Firi, I’m happy to let you kill Tyr. Tell me why, and I’ll be the first to see him die.”

Her jaw clenched. “Sedit?” She looked to her hound. The beast let a low growl rumble through its throat.

“Don’t,” Dwyn breathed, genuine fear flashing through the single syllable.

“Tell me why you’re here,” Ophir demanded.

Dwyn’s hair shook around her in a cloud as dark as the night. The surprised whites around her eyes could be discerned despite the late hour. “We’re here to support—”

“Tell me why you’re here ! Why did you cross the Frozen Straits? Why are you in Farehold? Why were you in the water that night? Why did you come to find me?”

Tyr released her wrist, holding his hands flat as if he hoped to pacify her. “What did Guryon say?”

“Firi—” Dwyn tried again.

“Stop lying!” She brought her hands up and summoned a large black serpent. Both Dwyn and Tyr tensed against the presence of her beast. “Tell me another lie. Tell me!” She threw out her hand and a second vageth sprung into place, adding to her demonic pack of hellhounds as they slowly populated the shadows of the continent. “Lie to me again!”

Her army of nightmares filled the space, too many black eyes, too many dripping teeth all focused on the bewildered Sulgrave fae. The snake’s tongue tasted the air before them as if licking the sweet nectar of their fear. A noxious wave of rotten meat rolled off of the creatures as their horrible odor filled the air around them.

“What happened in there?” Dwyn demanded, eyes shooting between the new vageth and the enormous serpent.

Ophir was flanked by her pitch-black creations. The snake’s mouth widened, allowing venom to glisten from its fangs. Its tail wriggled as it coiled itself to strike. Her demons of night were tightly knit to her emotions, tensed with her anger as they stared at her target.

“For you!” Dwyn said honestly, eyes earnest, face pleading.

“What about me?”

Dwyn flinched against her next words, holding her hand up defensively. “I didn’t lie to you, Firi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I didn’t lie to you!” she cried back, taking a half step away from the princess. It was clear from the flit of her eyes that she was searching for an exit strategy—a source of water. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not like them. I want to help you, not hurt you. Since the beginning I’ve been helping you!”

Ophir was unmoved.

“I did this for you,” Dwyn practically cried. “ I did this! Your vageth? Your snake? I helped you find them. Why would I do that for you if I intended you harm?”

The new vageth dragged a single paw on the ground in front of it, flexing its talons and dragging them across the ground.

When Ophir looked unmoved, she changed tactics. “You said you didn’t care. You said as long as I wished you no harm, you didn’t care why I’d come.”

“I care now.”

Dwyn looked at her counterpart. “What about him?”

“I’d also like to hear Dwyn explain herself,” Tyr said.

Bitterness rolled over Ophir’s tongue. “Tyr followed you here from Sulgrave. He said it himself, and you’ve never denied it. We both know why he’s here— you . Why are you here, Dwyn.”

“What did Guryon—”

“This isn’t about Guryon. This is about you.”

Dwyn threw up her hands in exasperation. “For goddess’s sake, Firi—”

“That’s exactly right.”

Dwyn went rigid.

Ophir met her gaze with a challenging stare until she was certain Dwyn had hinged on the same word. “A god?” Ophir snarled. “You think I can make you a god? That’s what they wanted from Caris, isn’t it? It sure as fuck doesn’t seem like you’ll get what you want while my heart’s still beating.”

“You wanted to die,” Dwyn said, tears in her eyes. “If I wanted your dead heart, I could have let that happen. I’ve helped you every step of the way. Why would I do that?”

Ophir’s lips remained pulled back in a snarl. “It appears that whatever they did with Caris didn’t work. Maybe I have to unlock my powers before you can steal them from me? I don’t know your game, Dwyn. You want to be the All Mother? I’d say ‘ over my dead body ’, but honestly, I’d like to see you try. Sedit?”

The hound snapped, drool pooling on the floor beneath its maw.

Dwyn shrieked. She brought her hands in front of herself defensively, practically wringing her fingers together. Her voice rose with ever-increasing panic as the shrill worry of bells tinkled in her typically musical voice. “I swear to you, that’s not what this is. Will you please trust me? Please believe when I swear an oath that I will never hurt you? I’ll cut my wrists here and now and swear my fealty, Firi. I only want what’s best for you. Will you believe me when I say I want to help you uncover your power, to stay close to you, to protect you?”

Ophir lowered her fist slowly. She stared at Dwyn for a long time before her hand dropped fully to her side. She relaxed her shoulder. “No, I can’t.”

“Can you call off your snake? Your hounds?”

She looked to Dwyn, then to her monsters, then to the house behind her. “Come, Sedit,” she said. She flicked her hand, dismissing the new demons to the forest with her other discarded creations. Ophir began to walk back to the house but raised her hand. “Tyr can come. You can decide whether or not you want to be honest with me before you dare to knock on this door. And then I’ll decide whether or not I believe you.”

Ophir was nearly to the front door before Dwyn cried, “Tyr is here for the same reason I am! The only difference is you know me—you know I care about you! We’ve shared everything, Firi! We’ve shared a bed! We’ve shared a life! I’ve been at your side for months! I save you from your nightmares! I’ve held you through your sleep! I pulled you from the waves! I helped you when no one else could!”

“You were no friend to me, Dwyn. You wanted borrowed power? Sure, fine. You want to dabble in forbidden blood magic? I supported you. Who doesn’t love a little anarchy? But that’s not why you’re here, is it? And it’s certainly not why you chose me .”

Dwyn begged, “But, Firi…”

“It’s Princess Ophir to you, and it’s a higher title than you’ll ever attain. I want you out of my kingdom, and out of my life.”

“What do you know of him?” Dwyn’s eyes danced with tears. “What do you know of Tyr?”

The princess had already opened the door as she looked over her shoulder at the screaming fae. She’d lost her fire. Her parting statement held no fight, only chill. “I know he isn’t you.”