Chapter 11 #3
“Owain, well, it seems you are certainly familiar with the bastard of Edam. I wonder what Rhyan would think to see you smiling at his killer’s brother in that way.
” Her heart lurched at his name and her skin, suddenly cold, broke out in gooseflesh.
She immediately stiffened and felt her jaw clamp shut with such force she was surprised she didn’t feel a tooth break.
She tried to open her mouth to form a reply but failed. Tears welled in her eyes.
She felt Owain’s gaze on her before he spoke. “Oh, come now, Ser Oleander, was it. Surely, you aren’t chastising Lady Orla for following the king’s orders. Or do you think your king would take kindly to you questioning the orders he’s given to the most decorated warrior on the continent?”
Though he wore a mask of boredom, he kept his tone low, a hint of menace behind his words.
“I would never question the orders of my king,” Ser Oleander blustered.
“Good, then I’m sure you take no issue with Lady Orla following orders and being a dutiful guard and escort.
Good day.” Owain placed his hand on Orla’s elbow and guided her away from Ser Oleander as her breaths continued to come to fast, head swimming with images of Rhyan dead on the ground and the hundreds of soldiers dead because of her uncontrolled magic.
Blood and thorns overtook her field of vision.
So much blood. Her fault; it had all been her fault.
Murderer… Killer… Hero… Murder… Failure.
“Orla, are you all right?” Owain asked, looking down at her, brow creased with concern.
He stepped in front of her, taking up her entire field of vision.
“Breathe for me, Orla. Take a couple of those deep breaths for me.” He took her hand in his and placed it on his chest as he inhaled deeply. “Just like this, in and out.”
As he said it, she felt the firm planes of his chest rise and fall.
On her inhale, she smelled cedar mixed with hints of charcoal; it was a pleasant combination, calming and masculine.
After several deep breaths, her pulse started to slow and the cacophony of words playing in her head started to quiet. After a few moments, she felt steadier.
“That was embarrassing. I—” She paused. Looking up into his beautiful eyes, shocked by the tenderness there.
He looked so concerned for her. “Thank you, Owain. If it’s all right, can you make it the rest of the way to the office?
I should probably return to my rooms.” She hated the nauseous feeling that she was left with after one of her bouts of nerves.
“Let me walk you,” he said gently.
“No, it’s fine. Besides, you have to go and play lord, remember?” She tried to joke but it fell flat as Owain continued to look at her with such tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thank you again.” And she turned and headed towards her room.
Orla’s panic had subsided a bit after she had time to herself, plus a bath and a generous helping of chamomile tea.
Since the rain from the past several days cleared, she found herself walking to her favorite garden.
Now that they were nearing winter, few of the flowers were in bloom.
The air was crisp when she sat down on a bench, tucking her knees up under her chin.
The cold of the stone bench bit into her backside and made her wince.
After a time, she started to shiver and wondered how long she could stay out in the garden when the air around her warmed perceptively.
She smelled that intoxicating cedar and charcoal scent before seeing large antlers and a head of reddish-brown waves peek out behind a tree across from her in the garden.
Owain.
“I wanted to check on you, but you weren’t in your rooms.” He walked towards her, setting himself on the bench beside her.
“How’d you know where to find me?” she asked, turning to face him in time to see his cheeks flush.
“I’ve seen you sitting here a few times.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you stalking me, Owain?” she teased.
“Admiring,” he said as his voice dropped an octave that sent a thrill straight through her.
As she looked away to hide her smile, a few of her braids fell into her face. Gently, Owain tucked them back behind her ears.
“What was that back there, Orla?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, turning away from him again.
How could she explain what happened there?
That she panicked at being reminded of Rhyan.
That every time someone mentioned one of her famous battles, she thought about his death.
That she was a murderer who killed innocent people because she never learned how to do much with her powers besides make flowers grow out of season.
No, it was too much to explain to this cool, unaffected male that didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
“How can I help?” he asked with such sincerity in his voice.
“You can’t,” she said softly, looking down at the earth still damp from the days of rain.
“There must be something I can do.” He touched her elbow just like he had in the palace. This time he rubbed his thumb up and down as he touched her. His touch sent a jolt through her, warming her core in an unexpected way.
“One thing,” she said. “Follow me.” She headed off towards the entrance to the garden as Owain followed after.