Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“What the fuck are you doing, Owain?” Chrys hissed, menace lacing his normally jovial tone as he waved a hand to sound shield the door.
If it hadn’t been so at odds with his friend’s usual demeanor, he wouldn’t have paid the question any mind.
Before Chrys had interrupted, Owain had felt elated.
He was kissing Orla, touching her, tasting her.
It was pure heaven. Even better than all the times he had imagined it in the years since Fontina.
Made all the better by the fervor with which she had returned his kisses.
Sweet abyss, the feeling of her against him had driven any thought of why he was in Imsil or what he was supposed to do here out of his head.
Unfortunately, Chrys was clearly getting ready to remind him of all the reasons he shouldn’t have been kissing Orla in the palace gardens moments ago.
Owain turned from the door of his room and looked at his friend as Chrys glared at him, eyes hardened and jaw tight. “I swear to Gaius, Owain. What the fuck was that?” he asked again.
“You’re no virgin, Chrys. I’m sure you know what a kiss looks like.
” He was deflecting. He didn’t want to answer because, honestly, he didn’t know what he was doing.
Spending time with Orla, foraging with her, teaching her to control her magic, taking himself in hand at the thought of her.
None of it was advisable, and all of it jeopardized the mission they had painstakingly planned.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Owain. I know you were kissing her.
I want to know why? Because from the looks of that kiss, it sure as hells didn’t look like a ruse to get information out of her.
” Chrys walked over towards the cellarette and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig right from the bottle.
After a long pause, Owain walked over and joined him, taking the bottle and pouring himself a glass.
“I don’t know, Chrys,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I am doing.
” It pained him to admit it, but he had always been honest with Chrys.
Over the past several weeks at the palace, he had taken to avoiding being alone with his friend to dodge this very conversation.
He had known, maybe since the moment he laid eyes on her outside the throne room, that this mission would be more challenging than he had originally thought.
But the more he spent time with Orla, the more he wanted to get to know her.
To—He didn’t let himself finish the thought, instead opting to gulp down his glass of whiskey.
“You are blowing this, Owain,” Chrys seethed.
Owain’s head dropped. Chrys’s words burned like acid.
He continued. “Do you know how lucky you are that it was me who found you and not Lord Patrin or Lord Calix? Maybe you haven’t noticed while you’ve been thinking with your cock, but they have taken note of what little information you’ve been able to gather, despite spending nearly all your time with her. ”
Owain bristled at the implication that he was only thinking with his cock.
Maybe that was true the other night, but he wasn’t just interested in Orla because she was beautiful.
Somehow, in getting to know her, he found that while she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on, her beauty was the least interesting thing about her.
“What do you want me to do, Chrys?” he asked, refilling and then draining his glass of whiskey again before walking over towards the settee.
“I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on with you. Skipping meetings with the nobles, kissing enemies, it’s not you.
And don’t even get me started on you bringing her breakfast each morning.
And if I have noticed, old friend, so have the lords.
You’re playing a dangerous game here, Owain, and I want to know why. ”
Owain paused, averting Chrys’s eyes as he spoke. “I’ve grown… fond of her these last few weeks.” he replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the full truth of his feelings either.
“Fond… Fond of the female that killed her entire battalion. Fond of the female who almost killed you at Fontina. I can’t fucking believe this.” He took another long swig from the bottle, gulping the amber liquid down as if it were water. “We need a plan,” Chrys said.
Over the next several hours, the two talked about the ways they could salvage their mission while appeasing the Edamish lords who were feeling the plans were going too slowly.
Chrys updated Owain on some of the things he missed from the meetings he was skipping.
Namely that the heir to the Kingdom of Urdhe, Price Caprilo, was open to an alliance.
As the third most populated kingdom on the continent, they, too, saw how toppling King Mikki could be to their advantage.
Chrys stressed the importance of Orla’s role in the mission, which Owain bristled at.
Owain asserted that Orla didn’t have to be involved for the plan to succeed, she only needed to be far away enough that she wouldn’t get in the way of those plans.
Chrys scoffed at this but made no argument.
Owain knew Chrys was loyal to him. Hells, Chrys was more loyal to him than he was to the Kingdom of Edam, but Chrys was also pragmatic; he knew what was at stake should Owain fail.
* * *
The following morning, tired and on edge, Owain went to go meet Orla in their usual spot.
He and Chrys had planned into the small hours of the morning, and then continued to drink until the sun rose.
Chrys laminated Owain’s foolishness but he hadn’t gotten to know Orla the way Owain had.
He still thought of her as the Hero of Fontina and believed the rumors about her.
He thought Owain had fallen prey to nymph charms.
Owain knew nymphs could be… enticing creatures, but he didn’t sense that kind of magic from Orla when they spent time together.
She had even told him that she hated the way people assumed she would be eager to jump into the bed of anyone that asked just because she was a nymph.
He had to believe that the way he felt about Orla wasn’t because of magic, but because of the person she was.
Yet he couldn’t shake a small voice in his head saying that he wasn’t worthy of the affections of someone like Orla, and maybe Chrys was right and it was all a ruse.
Orla was waiting for him as usual, but today she smiled brightly when she saw him.
Sweet abyss, he adored that smile, and he hated himself for what he had to do.
But he couldn’t fail at his task here. He had let himself get distracted by her in ways that could get him killed.
Chrys mentioned that the Edamish lords, particularly Lord Patrin, had written to King Vernon questioning Owain’s suitability for the role of heir.
If his father sensed his weakening resolve, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him killed, despite Owain being his only living son.
“More practice?” she asked, beaming up at him. As he reached her, he went to cup his hand against her cheek but thought better of it.
“Not today. I had actually hoped I could sit in on a training session with the King’s army.
” He said it casually, but his heart plummeted when he saw her face fall and her brow crease with nerves.
He knew she hated any mention of her place in the army.
She had stopped wearing her sword and dagger while in his presence, a sign Owain took to mean she was finally being herself with him.
It ached him to know that his request caused her pain, but it couldn’t be helped.
“You know I don’t train anymore,” she said quietly, hurt lacing her voice. Orla’s gaze had dropped to the carpeted floor. He noticed that she started picking her cuticles, that beautiful mind spinning with worry.
“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. Just tell me how to get there,” he said gently. This time he did cup her cheek, bringing her gaze back to him. He couldn’t help it. All he wanted to do was bring her comfort in that moment.
A door to one of the rooms across the hall creaked open, and Owain abruptly dropped his hand from Orla’s cheek, but the damage was done. Lord Calix looked at him with narrowed eyes, trailing his gaze pointedly to Owain’s hand before turning and walking towards the palace entrance.
Shit.
Orla instructed Owain on how to get to the training grounds but decided to spend time in the gardens working on her magic instead of joining him. He hadn’t expected her to join, knowing the sights and sounds would overwhelm her.
Owain rounded one of the palaces large turrets.
A half-enclosed space that looked similar to a coliseum, with a dirt floor and elevated seating surrounding a sparing floor, came into view.
The training grounds were situated far from the palace gatehouse, near a part of the palace that Owain hadn’t been to before.
On the walls were various practice weapons, wooden swords, practice bows and arrows, and wooden shields of various sizes.
A large building around the back of the structure held the palace armory.
Barracks for the warriors were situated outside the space as silver-and-blue-clad warriors filled the area, preparing for the day’s work.
Many warriors glanced Owain’s way, but no one was brazen enough to approach him.
Feeling the heat of someone glaring at him, Owain turned to find Ser Oleander scowling in his direction.