Chapter 11 #2
“King Admon has brought up a valid point during these meetings that the trust between Edam and the rest of the continent would be tenuous at the best of times. He worries that Edam will mount additional forces against us and they cannot be trusted. As you brought the Edamish forces to heel once before, I thought you could provide your insights to alleviate those concerns.”
Orla could feel herself being transported back years in the past when conversations like this were a regular occurrence in her life. She imagined herself as that confident warrior who had pushed down all the softest parts of herself and was forced back into that old mindset.
“I cannot alleviate those concerns, my king. Edam has proved themselves to be untrustworthy in the past, and as I have not been privy to these meetings, I do not know how they have proved themselves as worthy allies at present.” Orla took another breath to steel herself before continuing when she was interrupted by King Blodwyn.
“I thought this nymph was supposed to be some master strategist. But all she has said is what we already know. Why waste space listening to nymph barley out of leading strings if she has nothing of value to add?” King Blodwyn looked at her with dismissive contempt.
A murmur of assent rose from the other kings in attendance.
A hint of anger and disappointment flashed across King Mikki’s face.
Orla felt her nerves begin to overtake her when a deep voice interjected.
“Let her finish,” Owain said with as much command as any king in the room.
He was gazing at Orla in assessment, but unlike the others in attendance, there was no malice in his eyes, only curiosity.
Orla was surprised to find that staring back at him left her with a sense of calm as she continued answering King Mikki’s question, choosing not to acknowledge King Blodwyn’s remarks.
“The only way to ensure Edamish loyalty is through accountability, my king. I would propose that all the kingdoms involved in this alliance would form a joint military unit made up equally of warriors from each kingdom. By working together to protect the continent, the warriors would build a camaraderie that would guard against outright hostility towards one another. It would have the added benefit of tying up some of Edam’s forces.
As they suffered extensive casualties during the war, they would have to think twice about waging another war when a large number of their forces were not accessible to them. ”
The room was so silent after Orla finished speaking that she wouldn’t be surprised if everyone could hear her heart beating frantically in her chest. King Mikki looked pleased with her suggestion, and she was surprised to find that Owain looked…
impressed. He was smirking at her with a raised eyebrow, but she struggled to get a read on his expression.
“Thank you, Lady Orla. You’ve given us much to think about.
You may go.” With a wave of his hand, King Mikki dismissed Orla as the males in attendance began to discuss her proposal.
She let out a long breath, surprised that she was able to tap back into that part of herself without throwing up.
Hopefully, her contributions to this meeting would keep King Mikki satisfied enough not to ask more of her.
* * *
After returning to her room, Orla immediately set to work stringing her herbs up and hanging them near the hearth to dry. She hung the mushroom Owain had picked for her up as well, hoping to preserve the little fungi.
The aroma of the herbs washed over her, helping to calm down after the meeting with the king, as a light patter sounded on her window. Looking out of her bedroom window, Orla noticed that it had started to rain.
Over the next several days, Orla spent little time with Owain.
She would walk him to the palace offices for his meetings and would escort him back in the evenings.
Mercifully, Orla had not been asked to attend any additional meetings.
Each morning before their routine walk down to the offices, Owain would knock on her door and drop off a tray of food.
The assortment of foods changed. Sometimes it was pastry and eggs, other times it was a platter of meats and cheeses, but there was always lavender tea to accompany the dish.
Though she was no longer as much of a curio as she was when she first returned to the palace, people still stopped to talk to her regularly, always asking about her previous battles or her current role in the army.
Without fail, every time she started to get overwhelmed, her breathing becoming uneven, her vision narrowing in, Owain would make up some excuse for the two of them to set off again.
A small smile and a reassuring touch of her arm was the only acknowledgement Owain gave to this obvious kindness.
One exchange had been particularly daunting.
Ser Oleander, a warrior who fought alongside Orla and Rhyan in the Battle of Byaslag, stopped her on his way to give a report to the king’s advisors.
He was a large male, nearly as tall as Owain and twice as wide.
He had always been a surly male, made surlier after his brother was killed in the Battle of Fontina.
Killed by her.
Ser Oleander was one of the few people in Emmental that didn’t dote on her, having made his dislike for the way she ended the war clear after the battle was won.
“Lady Orla, I heard you were back in court, though I’m shocked to see the rumors that you were consorting with the enemy are true,” he said through tight lips, his fawn-colored tail twitching in agitation, judgment clearly etched on his face.
“Ser Oleander,” she said, nodding his way. She had never liked the male, but he had been invaluable to the war efforts, gathering intelligence of the movements of Edamish forces. “The king has asked me to act as guard and escort to Owain while he is at court,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.