Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The king cut an impressive figure sitting on his throne in his royal mantle. The silver-and-blue garments emphasized the might of his reign. Orla entered the throne room flanked by Owain and Chrys. All three bowed low under the king’s shrewd gaze.
Orla was surprised to find that the Edamish lords were already present for the meeting.
She hadn’t expected them to be in attendance, and the sight of them made her feel uneasy.
Their continued disdain for her hadn’t gone unnoticed over the passing weeks.
And she liked them even less after learning about the ways Owain had been treated as a boy.
Still, she had a game to play so she kept her gaze focused on King Mikki.
“I am pleased to see you recovered, Lady Orla.”
“Thank you, my king, I’m lucky to be here.”
“So I’ve heard. The lords here were telling me about how instrumental Lord Owain has been in looking after you since the attack.
” Turning his gaze on Owain he continued.
“My kingdom owes you a debt of gratitude for saving our most esteemed hero.” Owain stiffened at the words, though he wore the mask of bored indifference that Orla had seen during his early days at the palace.
“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” Owain bowed again, humbly dismissing the king’s gratitude. Orla didn’t know what to make of the Edamish lords watching him so closely.
“Now if you all don’t mind, I need a word with Lady Orla.”
The others shifted, gazes bouncing from one another as if they hadn’t expected to be dismissed before they slowly filed out of the room, leaving Orla alone with King Mikki. Orla forced herself not to fidget or avoid the king’s gaze, even as her heart rate sped up and her mouth suddenly went dry.
“I meant what I said, Lady Orla. I am glad you are alive. But I have to admit, I am concerned you were attacked so brazenly on my palace grounds. The Edamish lords were quick to be in my ear about who they thought may be responsible and touting their heir’s role in saving you, but I know scheming when I see it. ”
“What did they say?” Other than her time with Owain, Orla had little to no interactions with the Edamish lords. She wondered why they would be talking to the king about her attack.
“They said that you spend a lot of time with the heir presumptive and alluded to a romantic relationship between you and the heir. Something, I’ll admit, that I hope is untrue.”
His dark eyes stared into Orla’s for a long moment.
When she didn’t speak, unsure of what to say, he continued.
“They made it seem as though I should be grateful for such a strong connection between the two of you. But I wonder if my strings are being pulled. Is it possible he orchestrated this attack on you?”
“No. Owain, Lord Owain, that is, was the one who found me and healed me. I don’t think he was involved.”
The king nodded and made a soft sound of ascent before continuing on.
“What of the other lords in his retinue?”
“They do not seem to like me, though that is unsurprising given my role at Fontina and my suggestions on how to limit the potential power of their battalion in the future. I have suspected that someone in Edam was responsible for my attack, but I have no evidence for or against those assumptions.” The king nodded again, seemingly in thought.
“There is discordance across the continent. Whisperings of the inequality between the might and wealth of Emmental over the other weaker kingdoms. Alone, the Kingdoms of Mondseer, Urdhe, Pommel, and Roquefort cannot challenge the supremacy of Emmental. But united, they would be… a complication. Our alliance with Edam keeps the other kingdoms in check. They will not rise against both of us. But history has taught me not to trust King Vernon fully.”
Orla said nothing. She had heard that there had been disagreements amongst the kingdoms after the war, but she didn’t know it was so dire.
The long years of the war had led to the disruption of goods from the ports of Emmental to the rest of the continent.
The war hadn’t just caused suffering in Emmental; it had caused suffering across the continent of Esrom.
Only Iridaceae was spared because they no longer traded or allied with the other kingdoms. The barrier in place ensured that Elven conflict did not impact them.
“Have you found anything amiss during your time as the guard to the heir presumptive?”
Truthfully, Orla hadn’t put much thought into what Owain and the lords were doing.
She had been so consumed by grief and overwhelm when she first arrived at the palace, then consumed by Owain, that she hadn’t made a very good spy.
She refused to tell the king anything Owain had shared with her in confidence.
Not now that their relationship had become more than guard and charge, but she knew she couldn’t leave the king with nothing.
“There’s contention between Lord Owain and his advisors. All I have gathered is that they had specific plans when they came to our kingdom, and they don’t feel the heir presumptive is doing his part. But that’s all I know.”
“That’s all you know, or that is all you will share? Lest you forget, Lady Orla, I can tout you around like a puppet on a string if I get a sense that your loyalty is wavering.”
With the wave of his hand, Orla felt her limbs lock.
She no longer had control over any part of her body.
Only her lungs continued to move up and down as King Mikki peered at her.
With another wave of his hand, she felt her body lurched forward.
Walking towards him without any intention to do so.
Horror seized her. She wanted to panic, to scream, or to run, but was completely locked inside herself.
What if he forced her to speak the truth about her relationship with Owain? Or her failure to actually spy on him?
At once, she stopped. Limbs locked again as she stood a mere foot from the king.
“The whole palace has been a buzz with chatter on how Lord Owain reacted to your attack. You are my most trusted warrior, but even you are not above the king’s reproach.”
King Mikki waved his hands again and Orla felt her body return to herself.
She inhaled deeply to stop the shaking that was threatening to overtake her.
She had heard King Mikki’s power was terrifying, but she had never been on the receiving end of anything like that.
It was horrible. One could only imagine what he would be like if he was able to use his power on more than on person at a time.
Orla forced herself to look King Mikki in the eye as she spoke. She had not wavered in her loyalty because of Owain. Her disillusionment with war and the crown had come after Fontina, but she wasn’t a traitor, no matter her romantic feelings.
“There is nothing further to report, my king. My loyalty continues to lie with Emmental and your rule.”
“Very well. I expect continued updates now that you are well. We will meet again after the ball in a few days’ time.” King Mikki waved his hand in dismissal, making her flinch before she slowly backed out of the room, releasing a sigh of relief that her meeting with the king was over.
* * *
Over the next several days, Owain and Orla spent as much time with each other as they could, though they were discreet about their affections for one another.
In the mornings, she would walk him to his various meetings with the lords or merchants needed to resume normal relations with Edam, and in the afternoons, they would spend time in town or alone in the palace grounds.
With her free time, Orla continued to work on improving her magic.
She had gone through the book Owain gave her and explored the palace grounds for the plants in it.
She found that those plants were much more receptive to her magic, and she could do things like transform them into other species or even weaponize the deadly ones.
On the days that she didn’t feel like practicing her magic, she would go into Imsil and see Cessly.
The two were quickly making up for lost time.
It felt as natural as breathing to be spending time again with Cessly now that Orla knew she didn’t blame her for Rhyan’s death.
And while they spent time together, Cessly would help her to remain calm as the people of Imsil stared at the two of them when they walked around the city.
Cessly shared that she had also been on the receiving end of unwanted attention after the war.
But unlike Orla, she hadn’t run away or avoided people, so she was much more adept at handling the stares with grace instead of panic.
On one of the days Orla met with Cessly, they went to The Boar’s Head Tavern for drinks when Owain and Chrys had decided to join them.
Orla had been nervous about the meeting.
Cessly had much to hate about Edam and had bristled when Orla finally told her that the male she was seeing was the new Edamish heir.
But despite some initial awkwardness, the group got along surprisingly well.
Chrys and Cessly had the same dry humor, and Owain enjoyed talking to Cessly about witch’s magic.
The two discussed various spells, potions, and conjurings, as well as the lack of a coven system in the Elven-run kingdoms. It was the first time Orla could say she was in the company of friends since Rhyan had died.
Each evening, Orla would return to Owain’s rooms where he would ravage her until she was sated and boneless.
But he never took his pleasure with her.
He told her that he wanted her to feel cared for.
To feel adored. But part of her knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
Though it was hard to argue with a male who had given her more pleasure in a week then she could have fathomed in a lifetime.
During one of those evenings, as Orla lay naked and content in Owain’s arms, he asked her how she would feel going to the ball with him.
“Come with me tomorrow,” he said as he gently stroked her arms up and down.
“I wasn’t planning on going. All those people… It just seems like a lot.”
She had been getting better at managing the looks and stares of others.
She no longer had nervous attacks anytime she was in the palace halls, and it had been over a week since she last took her lavender tea because she needed to calm down.
She still had a cup every morning though, because Owain had told the butler that she enjoyed it.
“Well, you are my escort.” He smirked. “So I am asking you to escort me to the ball, as my date.”
Her eyebrow rose at the word. They hadn’t labeled what they were doing, only that they enjoyed each other’s company.
Secretly, Orla suspected they both feared that labeling what they were becoming to one another would scare the other away.
Orla still feared being relied on and depended upon.
And as much as she was loath to admit it, Orla was terrified of being like her mother.
What if she got tired of him and left, the way her mother had left her father?
They hadn’t even acknowledged that all of Orla’s things had found their way into Owain’s rooms, or that they both called them their rooms.
“I’ll go under one condition,” she said.
“And what would that be?”
“No dancing,” she replied. Thinking about all the people around the ballroom gawking at her was one thing. But being on display in the middle of the dance floor felt like a whole different beast.
“One dance. It is a ball after all. And I’ll look for any excuse to touch you.” A wicked glint flashed in his pale blue eyes.
“You touch me plenty.”
He nuzzled his face against her neck. “I could never touch you enough, Orla. I would touch you forever if you let me.” His words warmed her, and soon, she nodded off to sleep.