Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
This was Orla’s favorite garden. When Owain had asked her to take him to her favorite place on the palace grounds, this was the place she thought of first. It reminded her of home. The variety of plants and flowers here were similar to the ones she had planted in her cottage in Benin.
Gods, she wished she was back there. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the rushing water of the stream near her cottage and feel the gravel road under her feet. The thoughts grounded her.
Today had been a mess, starting with that run-in with Yanez and ending with her being forced to spend time with Owain.
She had come here between their meeting with the king and her showing Owain around the grounds.
In this whole palace, this was the only place she felt like herself.
She enjoyed the other gardens, it felt like she could actually take a deep breath while she was in them, but this was the only one that made her feel safe.
It was unsurprising that a nymph would feel safest surrounded by soft plants and flowers.
It also helped that this was the least popular of the palace gardens.
She never felt alone in the palace, the hustle and bustle of courtiers and nobles always set her on edge. But here, she could be alone.
She stayed in the garden into the small hours of the morning, thinking about how to get through the next several weeks.
Though she didn’t admit it to herself, she also stayed there to avoid sleep and the nightmares that plagued her.
Usually, she would dream of Rhyan, his lifeless eyes staring up at her, the blood spilling from his throat.
She missed him so much it hurt. Missed his laugh, the way he teased her for being the shortest warrior in the army. She also missed his easygoing nature. He was the kind of male she could spend a whole afternoon with in companionable silence and never have it be awkward.
Orla also thought of the days ahead. She had another day of showing Owain around, this time in the inside of the palace before acting as his guard while he attended various meetings with the court nobles.
The fact that she would have little time to herself and that she would be surrounded by nobles all day made her tense.
She had only brought enough calming herbs to last her a fortnight.
Meaning she would have to forage for more if she wanted to survive her nerves over the next several moons.
She could also venture into the city, but the thought made her heart start to race.
At home, Orla could use her magic to increase the quantity of what was already growing, but here, she felt distant from her magic, too distracted by other things to call upon it reliably.
She also feared what her magic could do if she couldn’t control it.
Getting up from the stone bench she was perched on, Orla made the slow journey back to her room.
She didn’t want to go back, to put back on the costume of a warrior.
So much so, that she had chewed the inside of her cheek raw from nerves, and her body felt heavy with exhaustion from lack of sleep.
She kept telling herself she could do this, but how long could a person live in this state of stress?
She got dressed while avoiding looking at the mirror in her room.
Constantly seeing the warrior staring back at her was too much; it overwhelmed her.
As she crossed the room to the door, she took a steadying breath.
She had already had her lavender and tulsi tea for the nerves.
Again, she failed to finish eating her breakfast that the kind Elven butler had brought up for her.
When she departed her room, she found Owain waiting for her, arms behind his back, looking the picture of aloof.
He looked different this morning. Instead of the black leather armor he wore yesterday, today he was wearing a pair of black trousers and a forest green shirt that brought out the red in his wavy hair.
He still wore the broad sword though. The effect was… nice.
“No armor today. You must be confident in my ability to guard you.” She nodded towards his outfit.
“Well, if I am to play the part of a noble, I suppose I should dress like one, shouldn’t I?”
“Hmm, I see my words yesterday have nettled you.”
Owain narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t respond.
She hadn’t meant to be so curt with him yesterday, but him reminding her that she was meant to be a warrior had gotten under her skin.
She hadn’t gotten into gardening until she had returned home to Benin.
Before she had joined the king’s army, she always found those pursuits frivolous.
They reminded her too much of her mother and the nymph side of herself.
Nymphs were rarely warriors; their soft nature and flightiness made them unreliable for anything other than a good time.
“I thought today I would show you around the interior of the palace.” She avoided his gaze directly, but she noticed the way his eyes fixed on her mouth as she spoke. He noticed her looking at him and cleared his throat.
“After you.” He gestured to her to lead the way.
Orla led him through the various halls of the palace and stopped at the doors to the king’s library.
It had the largest collection of tomes on the continent.
Beyond the large arched doorway, the high vaulted marble ceilings stood several floors above them and gave the room a sense of grandeur almost as impressive as the throne room.
Rows and rows of tall bookshelves filled the large space.
On the far side of the library, large bay windows let in natural light.
Soft cushions were placed at the base of the windows.
She had always loved this library. When she was in training, she would come in here afterwards and find a private space to tuck away.
The magic of the palace allowed for the books to be held on the high shelves. One only had to think of the tome they were searching for, and the book would appear in their hands. She picked up a few books, detailing to him the history of the palace and the magic that powered it.
Supposedly, the palace was built on ancient runes. It was a form of magic Orla was unfamiliar with, but it was helpful in keeping the palace warm, the water running, and the library well stocked. Once read, the tome made its way back to its rightful place on the shelves.
Orla walked Owain through the shelves, ending at a section of the library that held books related to ancient plants.
She fingered the pages, being careful not to break the spine of the book.
It was old, possibly as old as King Mikki himself, and she didn’t want to damage the tome.
The thin paper gave off an earthy smell that was intoxicating. She inhaled the scent deeply.
As Orla placed the book back on the shelf, she became aware of Owain gazing at her. There was a softness to his expression that she hadn’t expected to see there. It surprised her. He looked at her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.
“Well, we can move on if you’d like,” she said with hesitation in her voice.
Orla didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt awkward.
She started picking her cuticles to have something to do with her hands.
He nodded, not taking his gaze off her and followed her out of the library.
Next, she showed him the grand ballroom, noting that this upcoming ball to celebrate the improved relationship with Edam would likely be in this room.
As they walked through the palace, she was frequently stopped by different lords and ladies wanting to talk to her, to thank her for her time in the army, and to exalt her for killing Prince Gwayne and ending the war.
Each person said it with cutting glances or sneers directed in Owain’s direction.
Those exchanges were particularly uncomfortable as Owain was always closely at her side.
With each exchange, she could feel her chest get tight, the nerves she fought threatening to overtake her.
She would smile politely before finding an excuse to move them along.
One especially awkward exchange came about when she was accosted by a group of ladies’ maids as she and Owain walked through the hallways away from the grand ballroom towards the palace picture gallery.
The ladies asked how she was enjoying her time back at court before turning their attention to Owain.
A bold lady, a few years younger than Orla with light golden hair, asked why Orla had yet to introduce them to her handsome companion.
“Apologies, ladies, this is Lord Owain Acer, heir to the Kingdom of Edam.”
“Heir presumptive,” Owain corrected with a passive glance at the group.
They were flocking to him like sheep to a shepherd. The ladies simpered their hellos, batting their eyelashes at Owain and flashing winning smiles.
“It’s so exciting to meet a rebel.” The bold one, Lady Ros, she thought, remarked as made an awed sound between an “oh” and a moan. “Do tell us, Prince Owain, how are you liking our capital city so far?” She made a show of leaning in towards him as she spoke, her full cleavage on display.
Owain looked bored through the exchange. He hardly looked at the ladies, his posture never wavering from the stock-still posture of a warrior.
“Lord, not Prince. And it’s fine,” he said curtly. “It was nice to meet you ladies, but Orla and I must be off. Good day to you,” he said dismissively as though it wasn’t unusual to have a bevy of beautiful young ladies lusting after him.