Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The ballroom was grander than any other on the continent of Esrom, another nod to the might of the continent’s most powerful kingdom.
The room could easily fit over five hundred attendees.
The large ceilings were made of silver veined marble.
An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, lit by well over a thousand mage lights.
Grand gilded windows lined the far wall of the ballroom, overlooking the lights of Imsil.
Food and drink flowed freely, and many of the guests were already into their cups, enjoying the ostentatious event.
Orla had been right. When the court herald announced them as they entered the ballroom, every head in the room turned to look at her.
And then the whispers started. For a moment, she was consumed by panic.
The urge to turn and run, or worse, to vomit, nearly overtook her.
Sensing her discomfort, Owain placed a gentle hand over the one that rested on his arm.
“I’ve got you,” he said simply, his hand stroking hers the way he would when they were alone in bed together.
The touch grounded her. Nodding, she turned her gaze up to look at him.
“Anytime you feel overwhelmed tonight, know that I’m here.
And if it becomes too much, we’ll leave.
” She smiled at his words, at being so cared for, so understood. It made her chest swell.
Safe.
The word echoed in her head. Owain made her feel safe.
She knew she cared for him, but in that moment, she realized that she was also falling in love with him.
Part of her feared that love. She had killed one of the last people she loved and disappointed the other.
She also thought about how loving her mother had killed her father, worrying that her love would never be enough for Owain.
But then she remembered Cessly’s words: that she didn’t blame her. And she remembered Owain telling her she wasn’t a monster. And a bigger part of her thought that, maybe for the first time in her life, it would be safe to love someone and let them love her back.
They meandered around the ball, talking to the various lords and ladies in attendance and bowing low when King Mikki made his arrival. Orla noticed the Edamish lords milling around on the outskirts of the party, looking between her and Owain in assessment.
“Welcome, my esteemed guests and subjects,” King Mikki addressed the attendees.
“Please join me in welcoming Lord Owain Acer, Heir Presumptive to the Kingdom of Edam as my guest of honor. Over the last several moons, Lord Owain has been working tirelessly to heal the divisions between the Kingdom of Edam and the Kingdom of Emmental. This ball is a celebration not only of the might of Emmental, but of the mending of relations within our continent. Drink and be merry.”
With a clap, the dancing began.
They made their way around the ballroom, drinking the wine on offer and eating a few pastries and cakes that were floating around on trays held by the various palace staff.
After a few lively pieces from the string quartet, a slower song began to play.
A song for lovers. A song they shouldn’t be dancing to in front of the eyes of so many.
“May I have this dance, Lady Orla?” he asked with a smirk, feigning formality while the eyes of so many at court were on them. Orla hesitated, thinking of all the reasons she should say no. But the eager grin on Owain’s face won her over.
“Yes, you may, Lord Owain,” She responded in kind.
They made their way to the dance floor as onlookers continued to gawk at the pair, whispers intensifying. Owain pulled Orla entirely too close for propriety, but he didn’t seem to care. Their dance began; a simple waltz.
As they danced, Orla stared into Owain’s pale blue eyes.
The flakes of gold were catching the mage lights, making his eyes appear greener.
Gods, he was beautiful. And he looked especially good that evening.
He wore a well-tailored suit made of the same emerald green color as her dress.
The lapels were also decorated in a fine gold brocade.
He wore a black shirt under his suit with the top few buttons undone, revealing a peek at his tanned, golden skin.
His freckles were put in sharp relief in the light of the ballroom, and his hair looked more red than brown tonight.
She could stare at him all night and it wouldn’t be enough.
“Do you like the dress?” he asked, pulling her even closer, their hips touching, as they moved in time with the music.
“I love it. The designer has good taste,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Impeccable taste, you mean.” He winked at her before dipping her low. As the song continued, she felt Owain’s hand graze against the exposed skin of the low-back dress. His touch was electrifying.
As they twirled, he kept opening and closing his mouth like he meant to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.
Brow furrowed, he began to speak. “Orla, I—” As the dance came to a close, his eyes snagged on someone across the room.
Orla looked to see Chrys pointedly motioning for Owain to join him.
“Chrys needs me,” he said. “Meet me at the terrace in five minutes. I shouldn’t be long.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead before moving across the room to join the shorter male. Orla watched his back as he retreated, before turning to see the other Edamish lords staring her way.
* * *
Orla waited outside on the large terrace which overlooked the Capron Ocean.
Large pillars separated the terrace from the ballroom.
Ship lights twinkled on the water. The smell of sea air wafted around the terrace on the crisp winter night.
Crashing ocean waves drowned out the music in the ballroom as she wondered what Owain was going to say to her.
He had been so attentive all night, never leaving her side and ushering her away from conversations that set off her nerves.
As Orla waited, she heard hushed conversations behind one of the far pillars. It sounded like they didn’t want to be disturbed, but one of the hushed voices mentioned Owain’s name, which piqued her interest.
Slowly, she padded over towards that pillar, close enough to hear more of what they were saying without being seen.
“—time for retribution. He never got over the death of his brother, and killing her would serve as swift justice,” one of the voices said. It sounded familiar. Was it Lord Patrin?
“How does he plan to do it?” She also recognized this voice as Lord Calix.
Wait. They were talking about Owain killing someone?
That couldn’t be right. She must have misheard who they were discussing.
Moving closer, she tried to drown out the sound of the ocean waves to focus on what they were saying.
“Slit her throat, I think. A fitting end since that’s how Prince Gwayne ended her companion. A feat that wouldn’t have been possible if Lord Owain hadn’t distracted the foolish nymph. Though I know he always regretted that Prince Gwayne hadn’t been able to kill her himself,” Lord Patrin replied.
Me. They are talking about me.
Orla’s thoughts were spinning out of control. Owain was going to kill her. To slit her throat as if she were nothing but a lamb for slaughter.
“Lord Owain’s dominion over the weather has come in handy over the years. Especially at Fontina,” Lord Calix agreed.
Dominion over the weather… Orla puzzled over that before a startling realization hit her.
That day, at Fontina, she had been distracted by a flash of lightning in an otherwise clear day. And if she was understanding them correctly, that had been Owain. He had distracted her intentionally so that Prince Gwayne could sneak up on her and kill her
Owain was the reason Rhyan was dead…
The world tilted.
Orla felt sick, her thoughts frantic. It took every ounce of her being not to vomit on the terrace floor. This couldn’t be true. Owain had treated her so kindly. He had cared for her and made her feel safe.
Oh Gods, this male who is going to kill her made her feel safe.
Lord Patrin continued. “He has played his part well. By all accounts, the chit has fallen for him. She won’t see his deception coming and then he will put the rest of his plans in motion.
Putting this kingdom to the torch for what they did to his brother.
” Their voices started to fade as the two men walked away, heading back towards the ballroom entrance.
Orla stood frozen, devastated by what she had heard. Her heart drummed in her ears as her eyes stung. She hadn’t even realized she had begun to cry.
It had all been a ruse. A trick to gain her trust to make it even more cruel when he killed her.
This time she was sick and barely made it over to the side of the terrace before heaving up the contents of her stomach. How could this be?
The male who picked herbs with her, who brought her lavender tea when she was overwhelmed, and who had brought her so much pleasure and happiness had been lying to her the entire time. That must have been why he never took his pleasure with me, Orla thought.
He gave her pleasure to distract her. She had let this male into her body, but worse, she had let him into her heart.
Foolish… Stupid… Hopeless.
New words chanted into Orla’s mind. She had never once questioned Owain’s kindness, and it had been a lie the entire time.
She had to go. Had to get the fuck out of this palace and as far away from these people as she could manage.
But first, she had to warn the king. If what Lord Patrin and Lord Calix said was true, killing her was only a part of what they came here to do.
She would pack and get a message to the king, but she wasn’t about to die here.
Not when she had only just begun to live.
Because of him.
She had felt more alive in the past two moons than she had in seven years, and so much of that was because of Owain. Because he cared for her.
Correction, he pretended to care about her. The thought was a stab through the heart.