Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
As she flitted around her cottage, packing the necessary things for travel, Owain took stock of the space.
It was homey with the fireplace roaring.
The small kitchen was covered in herbs and flowers that Orla had strung up to dry.
Jars full of already dried plants covered much of the wood countertops.
Owain noticed a small red-and-white mushroom that sat alone in one of the jars.
He suppressed a smile seeing the tiny reminder of their time foraging.
When Orla agreed to travel with him, relief swept over him. He knew his father was coming for them. Even if he had believed his lie about Orla being from Ovidur, if she had been walking around unaware of the price on her head, surely someone in town would have seen her and set word to the king.
When she was ready, she stood by the doorway, pack slung over her shoulder with her sword and dagger sheathed to it.
The entire time she packed, she hadn’t said a single word to him.
Even now, she looked ready to throttle him, but he would take her anger if it meant he could get her to safety.
What happened after he got her to his mother’s cabin, well, he would sort that out later.
It was early evening when they readied the horses and set out.
They had to leave immediately. The more time they put between themselves and his father’s guards the better.
It would be a long journey; to get through the Iridaceae Mountains would take nearly a fortnight.
Ten days if they pushed the horses to breaking.
There was a small inn at the base of the mountain, the last way station between Emmental and Iridaceae where, with luck, Chrys would meet them before they crested the mountain into the magical lands.
* * *
They traveled through the forests surrounding Benin. These were old woods. Gnarled trees were covered in moss and lichen. As they moved farther into the forest, ferns the size of small horses covered the tufted ground.
They traveled for several hours until night had well fallen, and it would risk their horses if they continued to move in the dark. When they came across a small clearing, Owain finally broke the hours of long silence.
“We should make camp here for the night. We can continue at first light.” He dismounted from his horse and unstrapped his pack.
He had brought a bedroll as well as a few blankets and tarps for them to sleep on.
Orla dismounted her horse as well before beginning to make a small fire.
She had packed some dried meat and vegetables, as well as an assortment of nuts and leathered fruit that should last them for a few days before they needed to hunt.
The two sat in tense silence. Orla ate a bit of dried rabbit while Owain stared into the fire.
There was so much he wanted to say to her.
Sorry, being chief among them. But Orla hadn’t so much as looked at Owain more than a few seconds the entire time they had traveled.
Had things been different, had Owain been more honest with Orla, this could have been a romantic getaway.
Them out in the forest with a cozy fire.
They could have kept each other warm against the winter night’s chill and enjoyed being together the way they had so many times on the palace grounds.
But one look at Orla and Owain knew he had broken any hope of her returning his affections.
She sat across from him, pointedly averting his gaze.
Her lips were drawn into a tight line, her shoulders tense.
When she wasn’t eating, she was absentmindedly picking at her cuticles.
He couldn’t bear the silence any longer.
“You can ask me. If you’re wondering about the plans and what I did, you can ask me. I’ll tell you the truth.”
She scoffed, refusing to look at him.
“Oh yes, truth from the male plotting to kill me. How reassuring.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I need you to know—”
She stood abruptly, moving towards the blankets she had set up a few steps away from the fire.
“I know everything I need to know about you.”