Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The sun had barely crested the horizon, the sky still full of pinks and purples, when a knock sounded at her door.
Orla grabbed a robe and made her way to her door.
Standing on the other side was Owain. His reddish-brown hair looked tousled around his antlers like he had just woken up.
Orla stood there a moment, taking him in.
“Can I come in?” he asked with a soft smile. He was carrying a tray of pastries and some tea.
She moved out of his way and ushered him inside. Walking over to the table, he set the tray down.
“It’s lavender,” he said, gesturing to the tea.
“You mentioned it helps with the nerves and I thought—” He cut himself off, looking down at her with a sheepish smile.
“Well, anyways, I thought you would enjoy it. But I see you aren’t dressed yet, so I’ll leave you to it.
See you in a bit, Orla.” His words came out in a rush.
Was he nervous?
“Thank you,” she called after him, realizing too late that her robe had opened and her sheer gossamer nightgown was on display.
Though it was autumn, it had been warm in her room last night, and her velvet nightgown felt far too heavy.
As the door clicked closed, she smiled down at the meal.
It was a simple affair. Along with the tea there were a few pastries, some eggs, and an orange. The gesture made her heart swell.
While finishing off her half-eaten pastry, Orla retrieved the satchel with the herbs she and Owain had collected the previous day.
As the contents poured out on the table, she was surprised to find a little red-and-white mushroom among the herbs.
This species was rare in Benin but coveted for its healing properties.
She wondered why Owain had picked it. Looking through her collection of herbs, her mind wandered to the events of the day before.
Owain had proven himself fairly adept at helping her.
He collected twice the amount of lavender and tulsi as she did.
Though that may have been because she kept getting distracted by the way his muscled forearms flexed as he picked the herbs.
Or the way he was constantly running his hands in his hair to keep the reddish brown locks out of his eyes.
And, Gods, those eyes. In the clearing, she could see they weren’t just pale blue, but flecks of gold danced in his eyes reminding her of the way the sun peeked through a cloudy gray sky. She had to stop herself from staring before she got lost in their depths.
She had known he was good looking. The way the various ladies in waiting stopped them to talk every time they saw the two of them in the halls of the palace, batting their eyelashes at him, was proof enough of that.
But before their time in the clearing, she hadn’t really looked at him.
She was always so on edge at the palace.
So preoccupied with making sure she wouldn’t crumple into a ball of nerves with all the expectations others had of her that she hadn’t had time to focus on the male she was escorting everywhere.
But with him in the forest, she felt like she really saw him.
He hadn’t been hiding behind that mask of boredom or playing at the court politics that he clearly disliked.
He had seemed kind, albeit a bit cocky. His earnestness when he asked her why she returned to the palace that she loathed so much struck her.
And his gentleness when asking her why she ran from Cessly created a warm sensation in her that she couldn’t quite place.
Now that she was looking, she realized he was kind of beautiful. Especially when he smiled. The right corner of his mouth lifted higher than the left side. The effect, coupled with his full lips and stubbled jaw, was devastating.
Looking at the tiny mushroom he collected for her, she felt an ache of something deeper. A hard-to-place feeling that she hadn’t felt for a long time and had lost the words to name.
Like most nymph’s, Orla had an affinity for the fungi.
Mushrooms were one of her favorite things to forage for back home, useful for all kinds of meals and medicines.
Tucking the little mushroom into her satchel, she moved towards the door.
It had been an hour since Owain had brought her breakfast, and he was probably waiting for her to escort him to his various meetings.
Before she could get dressed, a knock sounded at her door. Clem, the messenger imp, was waiting for her with a missive. There was only one person who would be using the official palace messenger to communicate with her. Icy dread crept up Orla’s neck as she looked at the missive.
“A message from the king, my lady,” Clem said as he lowered himself into a bow.
Orla took the missive and nodded her thanks to Clem. Once she closed the door, she struggled to pull open the wax seal with fumbling hands.
Lady Orla Afeani, Hero of Fontina, your presence is requested during meetings between King Mikki and the Heir Presumptive to the Kingdom of Edam, Lord Owain Acer, today in the king’s royal offices.
Signed, Lord Kennedum Mavick, Advisor to the King
Orla had been spared having to attend these meetings thus far.
She had no doubt that King Mikki could care less about what a nymph thought on how he should run his kingdom or the best ways to maintain alliances across the continent.
If he was requesting her, it had to be because he expected her to provide military insight. The thought made her palms go clammy.
When Orla finally walked out into the hall, she was surprised to see that Owain wasn’t alone.
Head bent low, he was talking in hushed tones with one of the lord’s for Edam.
Lord Calix, she thought. The older male was several inches shorter than Owain, even with his tall Elven horns, and he looked angry. He jabbed a pointed finger at Owain.
As she closed the door, she heard him say: “…doing your part. Think of the tenuous nature of your position, Lord Owain. You have given us nothing of use.” The disdain in the older male’s voice was evident.
She cleared her throat as she got closer.
Lord Calix sneered at her before stalking off down the corridor.
“Everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded. “Yes, though it seems you aren’t the only one who thinks I am playing the role of a noble poorly.” He said it with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.
“You do seem to make a much better forager than a lord,” she teased, reaching into her satchel to grab the small red-and-white mushroom. “I saw this in the bag, why did you pick it?” She held the tiny mushroom up to him.
“It made me think of you,” he replied simply.
“I don’t see many like this back in Benin since it doesn’t rain enough there for this species to grow much. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” As he said it, he held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, his pale blue eyes heating as he cleared his throat.
“As much as I would love to spend the day foraging with you again, I should probably go to today’s meeting. Would you mind walking me since it is your job to escort me?” he teased, flashing that smile she was growing fond of.
“Actually, I have been summoned to today’s meetings as well.” She saw his curiosity pique at that. With a raised eyebrow, he gestured her forward.
“I look forward to seeing the famed Orla Afeani in action.”
Orla felt nervous as they made their way on the familiar path towards the king’s offices.
Though she hadn’t been summoned before now, she had been somewhat avoiding King Mikki since her arrival at court.
She feared meeting with him and finding out what additional things he wanted from her in whatever schemes he was hatching.
When they arrived at the office, Orla was unsurprised to find King Mikki, his advisor Lord Kennedum, and the Edamish lords all waiting for them.
She was surprised, however, to see three of the kings from the various other Kingdoms of Esrom: King Fiorello of Mondseer, King Admon of Pommel, and King Blodwyn of Roquefort.
King Mikki hadn’t mentioned that the other kings would be joining this particular meeting.
Immediately, Orla felt her pulse quicken, and her mouth went dry.
She caught King Mikki gazing at her, assessingly.
He looked pointedly at her clothing, clearly noting that Orla was not dressed as a famed warrior.
Her soft trousers and flowing shirt made her look far more nymph than Elven.
Drawing on years of court experience, Orla quickly bowed low to King Mikki before addressing the other kings and lords in attendance.
“Your Majesties,” Orla said as she bowed to each king in turn, though less deeply than she bowed to King Mikki.
Orla knew the various kings would be appraising her.
Though she had met a few of them in the past, she had seen very little of them since the events of Fontina.
King Mikki would only be showing her off now as some kind of show of strength.
As Owain made his way around the table to sit between the other Edamish lords, Orla remained standing, straight-backed and stone-faced near the door, waiting for her king’s orders like the dutiful warrior she was meant to be.
“Lady Orla, my Hero of Fontina,” King Mikki said genially.
The tone he always used with her was somewhat belied by the cutting look in his dark eyes.
“Today we need your expertise. As our kingdoms come to agreements on the state of our allyship, certain military questions have arisen with which you would be best suited to answer on behalf of my kingdom.”
“How can I be of service, my king?”