Chapter 26 #2
Orla moved before she was consciously aware of what she was doing. Racing down the terrace steps, she circled the large grounds to get back to her room. She needed her things and then she needed to get a message to King Mikki. Unaware of how fast she has been moving, Orla bursts into her rooms.
Owain’s rooms.
This had been a sanctuary. A temple to the relationship they had been building, and it was all a lie.
She packed her rucksack with the things she would need for the six-day ride back to Benin.
She threw in clothes and her armor and weapons.
She hastily grabbed her things from the washroom, shoving them haphazardly into her pack.
She changed out of the dress she wore. The one that matched Owain’s suit perfectly, like they were two halves of a whole.
Gods, how far did his deception go?
When it came time to pack the book he gave her, she paused. It had been such a thoughtful gift. He had wanted her to learn more about her magic, wanted her to feel in control of it instead of controlled by it.
Why would he do that if he wanted to kill her? She debated leaving the book, but she just couldn’t. Part of her wanted to believe that what they had was real. That he had cared about her. That maybe it wasn’t all a lie.
Quickly, Orla began to scribble a note for King Mikki, informing him of what she had discovered when the door to the room creaked open.
Silently, she stood flush up against the wall, grabbing one of the daggers sheathed on the outside of her pack.
The room was dark. Orla hadn’t bothered to light the mage lights, so focused on getting her things and getting away as fast as possible.
“Orla?” Owain called out as he entered the room. He turned away from her, looking around the room when she struck, pressing the dagger to his throat.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now.” Despair had turned to fury. This male who she cared for, who she had grown to love, had been lying to her the entire time, and she wanted to know why.
“What’s going on? What are you talking about?” Raising his hands, he made to turn towards her, but she pressed the dagger farther into his skin, drawing a prick of blood.
“Stop fucking lying to me, Owain,” she spat, anger boiling over. “I know about your plans. Your desire to avenge Prince Gwayne by killing me.”
Owain’s stilled.
“Who told you? That isn’t…” He stopped, hesitating as she kept the blade pressed to his throat. “That was true, yes. But it hasn’t been true for a long time. Orla, I swear, I could never kill you.” His voice broke on the words.
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “I heard your advisors talking. I know you want revenge. I know you’re the reason Rhyan is dead. Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about the rest of your magic? You made me think you only had witch’s magic. You’ve been lying to me for moons, you contemptuous bastard!”
Orla hated the waver in her voice. She sounded so weak. So hurt.
“Orla, that isn’t the whole truth. Please let me explain.
” But Orla was too hurt to hear his explanations.
Too full of anger and sorrow to think beyond the betrayal.
If she had, she might have realized that Owain hadn’t fought back.
That he hadn’t had a weapon. Though he was nearly a foot taller and much stronger, he hadn’t even tried to move away from her blade.
That if she moved to slit his throat, he wouldn’t raise a hand to stop her.
“Orla, please. I lo—”
“Don’t!” she yelled. “Don’t you fucking dare claim to care about me.”
She had to move, but as she went to slit his throat, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to.
The thought of Rhyan, bleeding out as he clutched his throat ran through her mind, and she froze.
She couldn’t let two males she loved die like that.
Because, unfortunately, she did love Owain.
Love doesn’t stop just because you want it to.
“Fuck you, Owain. Every day of your infernal life, I hope you feel every bit the worthless bastard everyone knows you to be.” She knew it was harsh, even cruel, but she didn’t care. In that moment, all she cared about was hurting him as much as he had hurt her.
And with that, she lowered her blade before stabbing him hard in the thigh.
When Orla exited their rooms, she planned to make her way back towards King Mikki’s offices to leave him a missive, but the palace was in chaos.
Screams and cries echoed through the hall.
As she got closer to the king’s wing, the chaos was turning into pandemonium.
Servants and guards were running the opposite way she was going, nearly crushing her in their haste.
As she looked around for a familiar face, someone to ask what was going on, she saw a cloaked figure holding a bloodied dagger quickly blink out of sight.
Her blood chilled, and she turned to run the opposite way. She raced past a sea of anguished faces to get to the stables where she quickly readied her horse and sped off into the night.
As the palace grounds receded behind her, she felt the walls around her heart, her stupid broken heart, rebuilding. Brick by tortuous brick.