Chapter 2 #2
As his mare approached the stables, Owain caught a glimpse of Gwayne’s golden hair and wings, shining even in the oncoming darkness.
Owain braced himself; he knew what was coming.
This wouldn’t be the first time that Gwayne had beat him.
There were never fair fights; at twenty-three years old, Gwayne was nearly full grown according to the Elves, the age of maturity being twenty-four.
Owain knew better than to turn and run from Gwayne.
Not only would Gwayne find him eventually, he knew where Owain slept after all, but then his father would get involved.
Owain would be seen as weak, and an even larger target would be placed on his back.
So he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and continued on the path to the stables.
“Ah, the bastard returns,” Gwayne said with a sneer, his muddy brown eyes boring into Owain’s.
Owain knew better than to respond; it would only aggravate the older male.
As Owain reached the open stable doors, Gwayne grabbed him, throwing him onto the ground with a loud thunk.
The air was rushed out of Owain’s lungs at the impact of the fall as Gwayne kicked him hard in the stomach.
Owain grunted, unwilling to give Gwayne the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
From previous experience, he knew the more pain Gwayne thought he was in, the harder he would kick.
“You disgrace this kingdom, you filthy son of a whore,” he spat as he climbed atop Owain and began punching him.
Gwayne had known all about Owain’s mother. The problem was that now others knew too.
It must have been quite the scene for Chrys to walk in on. Gwayne, the golden-haired heir, pinning down the smaller court bastard who tried, but failed, to fight back.
Chrys’s father was a stable hand, and Chrys spent more time in the stables than anywhere else on the estate.
Chrys had walked in mid-attack, and even though Gwayne was heir to the kingdom and significantly older and taller than him, he still stepped in.
The tiny dark haired boy pushed Gwayne off Owain and punched him square in the jaw.
Gwayne had looked up, furious, as blood trickled down his mouth.
He shoved Chrys into the ground and kicked the boy hard in the stomach before stalking off.
“Thank you,” Owain wheezed as he struggled to get to his knees. His tan trousers and tunic were covered in dust from the stable floors and his own blood.
“You shouldn’t have done that though. He would happily get you executed for attacking a prince.” His chest heaved as he let out a hiss of pain when he touched his split cheek.
Chrys got to his feet and held out a hand to Owain, helping him up off the ground before moving to untack his horse. “Nah, he won’t,” he said with a nonchalance, like he hadn’t just struck the second most powerful male in the kingdom.
“He wouldn’t want others to know I struck him, and he’d want them to know I drew blood even less. It would make him look weak.”
Owain was impressed. Many individuals at court had seen the way Owain was treated. He had taken beatings from Gwayne, his father, even the other children. But Chrys was the first to actually intervene. Not even Aengus had ever stepped in on his behalf.
From his spot on the settee, Chrys cleared his throat, returning Owain to the present. Glancing back, Owain saw Chrys’s eyebrow cocked in question. Owain was rarely this short with him.
“Apologies, friend. It’s been a shit day,” he groused, walking towards Chrys and taking the glass of whiskey from his hand before Chrys could snatch it back.
Owain downed it in one before reaching over towards the end table and pouring another knuckle of the amber liquid and knocking that back just as quickly.
“A shit week, particularly for Aengus,” Chrys said as he rolled up off the settee, grabbing the glass back from Owain.
“The idiot brought about his own death. Really, who duels for honor anymore. But still”—Owain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose—“I am going to miss him.” He paused for a moment, thinking about his new role now that Aengus was dead.
“No use fretting over it; this is our undertaking now. And truth be told, Aengus would have failed at the attempt.”
“Stop being so dower,” Chrys said. “I know you’ll miss Aengus but there is a bright side in all this.
Yes, we have to get this done, but we can still have a bit of fun on the journey.
We could make a detour to Staazer, maybe stop at that lovely little tavern with the barmaid who was so fond of you.
Oh, what was her name again?” Chrys asked with a devilish look in his eyes.
“Vasha,” Owain replied, a smile breaking through. “But I am not interested in barmaids; we have plans to put it in motion. Then we can celebrate.”
In truth, Owain hadn’t thought about anyone like that in quite some time.
He had various dalliances in the past, a barmaid here, and a knight there, various sons and daughters of the lords and ladies at court, much to their parents’ displeasure.
Never anyone serious, but as a young male, his bed was rarely empty.
He was a bastard, but that didn’t stop him and Chrys from their rakish ways.
That was then.
It had been years since he had taken someone to bed, not that he would share that information with Chrys.
And he had only thought of one female as he had taken himself in hand over the years.
Her fierceness was imprinted on him in ways that defied logic; a goddess among mortals.
It had been years since he had seen her, and even then, it was only a glimpse.
He had often wondered what it would be like to know her, to speak to her, and not just the version of her that was made of myth and legend. But that idea was ludicrous.
He had a task to complete, no matter how distasteful, and that task would bring him the one thing he had always wanted.
Finally, he could walk through the castle halls without looks of contempt or derision. He could be a male that commanded respect from those who thought they were better than him. From those that thought he was weak.
Chrys cupped a scarred hand on one of Owain’s shoulders. “Sounds like you’re ready for revenge,” he said in that jocular manner in which he said nearly everything. A smirk playing on his lips.
“I’ve waited seven years for this.” Owain nodded in confirmation. “See you at daybreak.” With that, Chrys left the room, leaving Owain to his thoughts of the goals that were finally within his reach.