Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
After being dropped off at his rooms, Owain couldn’t help but replay his last interaction with Orla.
Owain didn’t know why he had apologized to her about their conflict in the gardens.
Only that his remark had clearly bothered Orla and that made him uncomfortable.
He told himself that it was because he had to gain her trust to get information out of her. Yes, that must have been it.
Sitting down on the low settee in the parlor, Owain scratched his head at the base of his antlers and thought about his time with Orla.
He hadn’t spent much time with her, but what little time he was spending with her made her feel more like a mystery to be solved.
He struggled to find traces of the vain, bloodthirsty warrior she was rumored to be.
He tried to get a glimpse at the warrior side of her, he even suggested attending training and sparring with her, but her response was peculiar.
If he didn’t know better, he would say she looked stricken, almost scared when he suggested they spar.
His ego could interpret that as her recognizing how adept a warrior he was, but he knew that wasn’t it.
He had seen her take down males much bigger than him at Fontina.
He knew she was a skilled killer, and that magic of hers could more than make up for her small size on the battlefield.
As he sat in his thoughts, a knock sounded at the door.
Chrys came to join him before they met with the kings from the various other kingdoms. He knew King Admon from Pommel and King Blodwyn from Roquefort would both be in attendance.
He wasn’t so sure about the kings from Urdhe and Mondseer though.
Both of those kingdoms had allied against Edam during the war and did not seem interested in brokering peace talks with the defeated kingdom.
“How’d it go today with the chit?” Chrys asked before striding over to the cellarette and pouring himself a glass of brandy. Something about him calling Orla a chit bristled at Owain. He wasn’t sure why.
“It was… uneventful.” He could tell Chrys about the gallery.
Chrys was the only person, besides Aengus, who knew that Owain was an artist. But it didn’t feel relevant.
He knew Chrys wouldn’t judge him, but he also knew that even here he had to portray a sense of strength.
Staring at old pictures all day would be considered weak and frivolous to most Elves.
Plus he knew Chrys’s real goal was to find out if Owain had learned anymore about the king’s army and what they would be up against by succeeding at their plans.
“I asked Orla for a peek at army training, and she was strangely aloof. She said that she would get someone else to show me. It seems like she doesn’t spar anymore.
” Owain had puzzled over her response for over an hour now.
The way her body seemed to draw tight when he spoke about training.
It was similar to how she acted in the rose garden.
Usually, warriors spent all their free time training.
Or in Chrys’s case, fucking whatever pretty thing looked his way.
But not her. Well, he couldn’t be sure about that second part.
A pang of curiosity hit him as he thought about what that side of Orla might be like, but he quickly squashed the thoughts.
Before he had mentioned training, she had seemed, well, not relaxed, she always seemed on edge, constantly picking at her fingers or taking deep breaths. But at the gallery, she had seemed almost as relaxed as she had been in the rose garden the day before.
“She could be avoiding having you see what she can do,” Chrys said as he sipped his brandy. “She is their most famed warrior after all,” he said in a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes.
“She could be.” But for some reason Owain didn’t think she was. “She’ll be taking me to more of the palace this week. I will find out more then.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, Orla led Owain and Chrys through the palace corridors to an ornate office along the same wing of the palace as the throne room.
Waiting for them were the kings from Pommel, Roquefort, and surprisingly, King Fiorello from the Kingdom of Mondseer.
The King from Urdhe did not make an appearance.
At the head of the long marble table was King Mikki.
His advisor, Lord Kennedum, was standing to his right.
The meeting was tedious to say the least. Kings Admon and Blodwyn used the meeting to highlight their distaste for the idea of lifting the trade embargos with Edam, while King Fiorello used the meeting to show how faithful Mondseer was to their alliance with Emmental.
He never missed an opportunity to cast aspersions on Edam or question Owain and King Vernon’s intentions about improving their relationship with Emmental.
None of this was surprising. After the war, the other kingdoms on the continent had all bandied together against Edam.
None of the other kings were willing to have King Mikki’s ire directed towards them, and this meeting was nothing more than a show to keep King Mikki’s favor.
Owain fought to stay present, but his mind kept wandering to the duty he must fulfill.
He wondered how he would go about this duty. What would it feel like to finally be viewed as more than a bastard in his father’s eyes? How would the subjects of Edam and Emmental react once their plans had played out? He wondered how Orla would react when his plans finally came together.
But as he thought about his plans, certain thoughts kept catching him off guard.
Like the way Orla’s nimble fingers flipped through the pages of the book on plants, or the way that she chewed her full bottom lip while she was reading.
He had been stunned by how mesmerizing her rich coffee-colored eyes were when she caught him staring at her.
How they crinkled at the corners the one time he had caught her smiling at him in the gallery.
His inner warrior rose up at these thoughts, reminding him that this was a ruse to get him to let his guard down around her.
Nymph’s were charming creatures, and only a fool would forget that.
“Lord Owain. Your thoughts?” King Blodwyn was looking at him.
Clearly, he had missed a part of this conversation as he got wrapped up in thoughts of Orla.
But that line of thought was unhelpful. It didn’t matter that he found her strangely captivating.
Unfortunately for her, nothing would stop Owain from achieving his goals.
He forced himself to remember the fact that she had killed her own warriors just to end the life of his brother. Many would say she deserved what was coming for such crimes. Yes, Elves were meant to be ruthless, but killing your own warriors that way was unheard of.
And what would have been the point of playing noble games and fighting for the right to be respected in his kingdom if he faltered now? Plus his father would never respect him if he couldn’t fulfill his duty.
Weak, pathetic, bastard.
He heard the words as if his father were speaking them right into his ear.
He felt Gwayne’s fist hitting his face, breaking his nose for the second time as he called him a nothing son of a whore.
He could see Aengus’s soft eyes as he held a cold rag to young Owain’s nose while telling him to keep his head down so the others might leave him alone.
No, Owain had fought too hard for the approval of the nobles in front of him to make a mistake now.
“Apologies, Your Grace. I was caught up in thoughts of the interesting discussion you and Lord Patrin were having on the state of Edamish loyalty that I missed what you were saying.” Owain gave a cool smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Chrys scoffed a laugh, catching the sarcasm in Owain’s tone.
“If you had deigned to pay attention, you would have known I was asking about your thoughts on your father’s willingness to broker an alliance with the other kingdoms by allowing us access to your port.
Your kingdom is the only one other than Emmental that has access to such a large quantity of merchant ships.
Or are you in no position to broker such an agreement, my lord? ”
Edam’s port was closest to their neighboring continent, making it the preferred port for intercontinental trade.
It was the only reason that those in his kingdom hadn’t starved during the war as the other kingdoms had a trade embargo with Edam.
His father wouldn’t want to acquiesce such power and resources.
King Blodwyn knew that. If Owain said yes too quickly, it may raise suspicions, but if he outright refused, that would give the kings in attendance more fodder to say that Owain wasn’t to be taken seriously as an heir.
Hells, Owain hated having to play these games.
“It could be considered depending on what the other kingdoms also have to offer in return.”
The sneer on King Blodwyn’s face told Owain that this wasn’t the answer he expected him to give.
He imagined the male, with his sharp taloned hands and copper skin, would have relished in Owain outright denying his request, seeing it as a sign of weakness in Owain.
But Owain had worked hard to learn the language of court scheming.
He wasn’t about to trip up on his first meeting with these nobles.
“Lord Owain raises a fair point, Your Majesty.” King Mikki directed his statement to King Blodwyn, ignoring the look of contempt King Blodwyn was leveling at Owain.
King Mikki continued. “If we are all to make nice and strengthen alliances between our kingdoms, certain concessions are to be made. Unless you are not actually open to our kingdoms allying. Then that is a different discussion.”