Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
When he saw her, his heart stopped. For the smallest moment, he thought she looked happy to see him. But now he was tangled up in vines, and she threatened to strangle him, so he had definitely misread her facial expression.
When he got to the cottage, he knew immediately it was Orla’s.
The gardens had withered, but there was an unmistakable Orla quality to the space.
The cozy cottage was tucked close to the old wood full of lichen-covered trees.
A small stable was out back. He had walked around the cottage grounds looking for her before circling back to knock on the cottage door.
Sweet abyss, he had missed her. Even now, tied up on the cold ground, he could only think of how right it felt to be back in her presence.
She looked as beautiful as ever, her midnight hair tied up at the top of her head, some of the coils falling loosely from the tie.
Her rich skin catching the midday sun in a way that made every other creature pale in comparison to her beauty.
Even the angry tense lines of her face stole his breath.
But then he remembered he was the cause of that anger, and under that anger was so much hurt. His cheeks burned with the shame of it.
“I asked you a question,” she repeated, her tone so full of venom she hardly sounded like herself.
He struggled to catch his breath around the vines slowly choking him.
“We have to talk,” he rasped.
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” She twisted her hand slightly as the vines around his throat tightened.
“Please, Orla. The king is sending men to hunt you down. I tried to beat them here, but they will probably only be a day away, two days at most.” He took in a sharp breath, the vines around his arms and legs cutting off his circulation, making the limbs tingle.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he continued. “But I want to help.”
Owain wanted to tell her more, he wanted to tell her how he loved her and how he was filled with regret about his deception of her.
But he knew she wasn’t in a place to hear it.
And maybe he still wasn’t in a place to tell her the full truth, but if he wanted her to trust him again, eventually he would have to.
“You’re right, Owain. I don’t trust you.
Not in the slightest. And why would King Mikki send men to hunt for me?
I have no quarrel with him.” It was the first time he realized how much he had broken them.
The warmth that he normally felt in Orla’s presence, her smiles and laughs, and the easy way they were together all felt eons away.
“King Mikki is dead. King Vernon is now the King of Emmental and Edam.”