Chapter 10 #2
“It’s just, these are witch’s herbs. Are you collecting them for that witch you ran from yesterday?
” His curiosity peaked. Most nymphs had some dominion over plants.
They could make them grow when out of season or could increase the quantity to fresh plants that they already had.
It was even rumored that more powerful nymphs could grow plants at will from nothing at all.
It was rare for a nymph to need these kinds of plants for any kind of magical use.
And he hadn’t sensed that Orla was part witch.
Though it wouldn’t be surprising if she hid any witch origin.
Witches were not viewed kindly in large parts of Esrom.
“Oh, it’s not for magic,” she said quietly, and turned to continue her journey up the hill.
After several long minutes where Orla said nothing, he asked, “Then what are they for?”
“Being back at the palace, back in that armor, surrounded by all those people…” She trailed off, and he thought she would stop talking again. “It’s difficult for me. I get nervous and overwhelmed. The herbs help me stay calm,” she said it quickly, looking down as she spoke.
“So that’s why you ran yesterday. You were overwhelmed?” His voice was gentle as he asked.
“Yes, I couldn’t face—” She sighed deeply.
“It doesn’t matter. The herbs help. I hadn’t intended to be back in Imsil for this long when I got the king’s missive requesting me back at court.
At home, I have lots of herbs for nerves.
Gods, I have herbs and plants for a number of ailments, but I didn’t bring enough with me here, so I need more.
I could go into town and get them but that’s almost worse than being at the palace.
All those eyes on me, it becomes too much. ”
Owain wondered why she was sharing this with him. He could tell how difficult it was for her to share from the way she kept avoiding his gaze. The famed Hero of Fontina felt overwhelmed and nervous surrounded by the subjects who venerated her so much. He didn’t know what to do with that.
Cresting the hill, the two approached a small clearing between the trees.
On the far edge of the clearing were bushes of lavender and tulsi.
It was warmer here. With less cover from the trees, the sun shone brightly down on them.
Tilting her head back with her eyes closed, Orla took a moment to bask in the sun.
Owain couldn’t help but stare at her, entranced by her beauty in the full light of day.
They bent down and began collecting the herbs, taking the small satchel that Orla had brought and filling it with a mix of herbs.
They worked their way methodically through the bushes, hands occasionally brushing as they worked.
Each time his hand grazed hers he felt his stomach flip.
A stubborn male, he refused to acknowledge the feeling as butterflies and assumed that his breakfast must not have been agreeing with him.
His stomach did a particularly powerful flip when he rose from the bushes to find Orla doing her best to suppress a grin.
“What?” he asked, not sure why she was looking at him that way.
“You just—” Now she was laughing, full and bright. It was that same warm laugh from the chapel. More stomach flips ensued.
“Bend down,” she said, trying to stop herself from laughing more. When he did, she reached up and pulled several leaves of tulsi off his antlers. He hadn’t realized they had been stuck on him.
“You looked like you were wearing a flower crown,” she teased.
“Maybe I was just very creative in my foraging attempts.” His flushed cheeks gave away the lie.
“Bullshit,” Orla said as she chuckled more before turning her back to him.
At the far side of the clearing, Orla found the chamomile she was looking for.
Owain continued to collect lavender, getting lost in the repetitive nature of the work.
He hadn’t spent much time amongst flowers like this since he was a boy.
His mother collected similar herbs regularly, though she died before she could teach him much about all of their uses.
A beautiful red mushroom with white spots caught his attention. Gently, he pulled the little mushroom out of the ground before placing it in the satchel with the herbs. He didn’t know if Orla could use it, but it was lovely and reminded him of her.
Owain’s satchel was considerably heavier when the two finally left the clearing.
“Why did you come back?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You said you hate it here, that it overwhelms you to be here. So why’d you come back?”
She scoffed at the question. “Well, for one, it was a missive from my king. As the son of a king, you might not have to take those seriously, but I do,” she said.
“And?” he asked. Her tone suggested there was more than just the missive that brought her back here.
“And we struck a bargain. After Fontina, I wanted to resign. I had enough death, enough fighting. But how could the king announce that his prize warrior was leaving his army because she panicked every time she picked up a sword? So we made a deal. I come when called, and he relieves me of my duty to actually have to train and fight.”
Her candor struck him. The rumors weren’t true.
Orla wasn’t bloodthirsty or cruel; she didn’t even enjoy picking up a sword.
The thought of her, overwhelmed and panicked, made his heart hurt.
He wanted to reach out and hold her hand and tell her it was okay.
And if what she said was true, she would have no information for him about the king’s army.
A part of him felt that he should tell the Edamish nobles the information she shared about herself.
It would make their tasks all the easier.
But a louder voice told him to keep it to himself, so that’s what he did.