Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Her plants and flowers had died in the crisp winter chill.
The vines that had grown along the outside of Orla’s cottage had withered, no longer fed by her magic.
The only plants growing in her once beautiful garden were the weeds that had choked out all the flowers Orla had spent the last several years painstakingly tending to.
It had been over two weeks since Orla had left Imsil and returned to Benin. The garden had represented so much for Orla; it was the one positive thing in her life after Rhyan had gone. That was until she met Owain. Or the version of Owain she thought she knew.
Orla hated how lost she felt in the days after returning home.
She felt like a ghost, floating from room to room with no real purpose.
When she had first arrived at the palace, all she had wanted was to go home, to be left alone, to have her solitary life.
But then she got a taste of what life could be like if she wasn’t so alone.
She had Cessly back, she had Owain. Gods, even Chrys’s snarky presence had been a comfort.
At least this time, when Orla returned to Benin, she sent a raven to Cessly so her friend wouldn’t think she abandoned her again.
The thought of a return letter from Cessly was a small comfort.
After Rhyan’s death, being alone felt like a relief.
It had been a reprieve from the weight of everyone’s expectations.
But now, Orla felt soul-crushingly isolated.
The only thing keeping her going, besides the need to feed herself, was practicing her magic.
She had kept the ring that Owain gave her and found that it did help to channel her magic more effectively; she no longer had moments where she felt like the magic would burst out of her.
But there was a stab of sadness every time she looked down at the ring and was reminded of how happy the gift had made her.
Same with the book he had gotten her. She pored over the pages each day, looking at the different plants and their usages, as well as the ways they could be manipulated by the magic of nymphs.
This morning, she was going to journey into the village marketplace to collect some of the plants.
They were on the border between Emmental and the wilder lands of Iridaceae, over a week of travel away, so plant life in Benin held a magic property that one couldn’t find in other parts of the continent.
Dragging herself out of her bed, Orla put on the same gray dress and pants she had worn for the last three days, not caring that they were wrinkled and stained. Quickly glancing in the mirror, she saw how worn down she looked.
Her hair was a mess of coils atop her head.
She realized she hadn’t even bothered to put on her bonnet the last several nights, making the tendrils look dry and lifeless.
Her eyes looked hollow and her skin looked parched.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had put on any lotion.
She quickly gathered her hair at the top of her head and secured it with a leather tie before heading out of the house.
Orla arrived at the marketplace midmorning.
The space was buzzing with activity as the other residents of Benin gathered supplies, preparing for winter.
The market was small compared to ones in cities like Imsil, but it had a large assortment of stalls along the wide street.
Vendors sold a variety of items from spices to fresh meat and produce.
There were stalls full of a variety of clothing and shoes.
A beautiful pale blue dress caught Orla’s attention as she walked past; it reminded her of Owain’s eyes, so she quickly soldiered on.
Another stall had a collection of various spirits.
If Orla had a few coins left, she would stop there.
No better way to address crippling isolation than with a drink.
On the far side of the market, heading away from the town square, there were stalls that held magical wares.
Because Elves rarely bothered with the magic of other creatures, these stalls tended to be smaller with few patrons.
As Orla walked towards the far stall, she noticed an increase in the people stopping to stare at her.
Hushed whispers and sneering looks dogged her as she made her way down the lane.
Orla was used to a certain level of notoriety.
She was the shortest person on the street by far and had those telltale rounded ears on display today.
After she returned to Benin in the years after Fontina, there had been a slight uptick in the amount of looks she received from other villagers.
But as she had grown up here, most paid her as little notice as they had when she was a kid.
Today felt different. There was something more in the eyes of the onlookers besides mere curiosity.
The heavy stares made Orla’s heart quicken as she picked at her cuticles while trying to remain calm.
She breathed deeply. Inhale for four, exhale for five, she reminded herself as she increased her pace.
The quicker she could get back to her isolated little cabin the better.
Though the thought of returning alone disheartened her.
She made it to the stall that housed an assortment of magical plants and flowers, quickly scanning her list to see if they had what she needed.
“Surprised you’re just walking about nymph,” the older Elven female said from behind the stall.
She had jet-black hair with short horns poking out of her head and coppery brown skin.
Orla had seen her in the market before but had never had cause to stop at her stall.
Orla looked questioningly at the female.
“If you were smart, you’d get what you need to and get gone before someone alerts the king of your whereabouts. ”
The king?
True, Orla had abandoned her post. She hadn’t stayed and guarded Owain as per their agreement. Surely, she couldn’t have been expected to stay and guard a male who was planning to kill her.
Though, she hadn’t been able to inform the king of Owain’s plans.
The appearance of a hooded attacker that looked just like the one she killed in the garden had shaken her.
After their appearance, her only thought was getting as far away from Imsil as possible.
Orla nodded at the old woman, deciding to send a raven to the king to explain what happened once she returned to the cottage.
With a slight tremor to her hands, Orla grabbed the necessary plants.
A few amaranths, some fluxweed, and a few cyclamens.
Now that she had them, she could plant them in her own garden and wouldn’t need to venture to the marketplace to get them.
Just as they had when she first walked down the marketplace, the Elves of Benin stopped and stared at her. This time, Orla could see contempt etched on many of their faces.
Her sense of unease grew.
As Orla approached her cottage, something felt amiss.
There were fresh hoof prints in the gravel path leading up towards her cottage.
Her closest neighbor rarely had cause to visit her, and she doubted Cessly would have made the journey to visit her without writing her first, though part of her hoped.
Cautiously, Orla walked towards her front door on alert from any visitors.
The reaction from the villagers this morning had put her on edge.
Boots crunching on gravel sounded from around the back of the cottage, and Orla froze.
She didn’t have a weapon on her to defend herself.
Maybe she could make it quickly into the cottage before they saw her.
Before she could hurry inside, a familiar frame with elegant antlers came around the side of the cottage.
Owain.
It had only been over two weeks, but he looked different. His reddish-brown hair had grown, and now the waves fell into his face. The longest strands threatened to curl around his ears. He also had a beard.
He looked tired; dark circles under his eyes contrasted with his golden skin that looked more pale than usual. His clothes, black leather armor without the Edamish sigil, were covered in mud and something that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
For one heartbreaking second, Orla was happy to see him. She nearly broke into a run to go to him before she realized this was the male who had planned to kill her and broke her heart.
Fury overtook her brief elation. Calling upon her magic, vines swept from the trees and pulled tight on Owain’s arms and legs, knocking him to the ground.
He was bound like a pheasant ready to be cooked.
Another vine closed in tightly around his throat as Orla stalked towards him, palms clenched in anger.
“Why the fuck are you at my house?”