Page 27 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

And after her father died, she wept in a clearing near the edge of their cottage, where she inadvertently drained the life out of every plant within a ten-foot radius of her. That had scared her so much that she stopped practicing any magic afterwards. To practice now, and in front of an Elven lord no doubt, felt particularly vulnerable.

“Why don’t they call you prince?” It was a question that had been playing in Orla’s mind for weeks now. She only now got the courage to ask it because she was nervous about trying anything new with her magic and wanted to stall for as long as possible.

Owain hesitated for a long moment. It seemed like he was debating on whether to answer. But after how much he had shared with her the day before, it seemed he decided there was no reason not to answer.

“King Vernon doesn’t think I am worthy of the title yet.”

“Yet?”

“If I prove myself here in Imsil, he will legitimize me. I’ll no longer be the heir presumptive. I’ll be the heir apparent and a proper prince.”

“And how well are you doing at proving yourself?”

“Dreadfully,” he deadpanned. “Enough about me and the sad state of my legitimacy. Tell me, where do you feel your magic when you wield it?” he asked. She hadn’t realized how close he was standing to her.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” She didn’t feel her magic anywhere, it just was.

“All magic comes from within us, Orla. Some creatures, like nymphs, are more attuned to certain kinds of magic like the magic in plants, but to access that magic, you are drawing on the innate power that lives inside you.” He drew closer still until he was less than a foot away from her.

“Can I touch you?” he asked as he circled behind her. She nodded, throat suddenly too thick to speak.

Gently, he wrapped his arm around her waist and settled his hand flat in the middle of her stomach. All at once she was enveloped by the warmth of his body and the cedar and charcoal scent of him.

“I want you to close your eyes,” he instructed. She did as he asked. “Good, now I want you to breathe in deep for me like you do when you’re nervous. In and out, just like that.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her mouth. Her shoulders relaxed, releasing tension that she didn’t even know she was carrying until this moment. Next, he instructed her to envision something that made her feel happy.

It took her a moment before she settled on a memory of her, Rhyan, and Cessly shortly after they met. They had all taken leave together and decided to go to the ports in Imsil. It was the first time Orla had ever seen the ocean. The salty sea air and the crash of ocean waves filled her with joy. That day, Cessly had smuggled out a few bottles of ale and the three of them drank with abandon. Once they were all beyond tipsy, they stripped out of their clothes and ran naked into the water, warmed by the late summer sun. It was one of her favorite memories of the three of them, back when they were cadets and being in the army had still felt exciting and full of possibilities. Her heart swelled, remembering the smile on Rhyan’s face and the way Cessly laughed with Orla as she tried to learn to swim for the first time.

Once she had the memory, Owain instructed her to hold on to the feelings she felt as she continued to take a deep breath. He told her to notice the sensation of power rising inside her, starting from her belly and radiating out towards her limbs. She felt it, the surge of power, like a low hum thrumming through her skin, begging for an outlet.

“Now, open up the channels of your mind and let that power flow out of you, Orla,” he commanded gently. It took her a moment to feel those channels opening to her after they had been locked away and closed for so long. Eventually, she did, she felt the power flow out from her hands and feet as the ground pulsed beneath her.

“Open your eyes,” he said as he kept his hand on Orla’s stomach.

When she opened her eyes, she was floored. Before, the garden had been sparse, only a few autumn plants in bloom. But now a riot of color flooded Orla’s vision. Every plant was now in full bloom, fuller and more lush than possible with nature alone. The trees at the edge of the garden that had dropped their leaves were now overgrown, branches so packed full with leaves that sunlight barely touched the ground beneath them. The sunflowers that lined the north side of the garden path had grown to over seven feet tall, while each and every flower bud was awakened into a full bloom.

The grasses that had been well manicured before now sprung up high in all directions, looking wild and free. Even the small weeds that the palace gardeners kept at bay were thriving under the spell of her magic. Happy tears welled in her eyes at the sight. Before that moment, she had associated her magic with destruction far more than creation. She had never created something so beautiful as the garden that stood before her.

“Exquisite,” Owain said. Orla turned to face him as his hand moved from her stomach to grip her waist and saw that his gaze wasn’t set on the flowers in the garden, but his focus was solely on her. “You take directions well. I’ll have to remember that.” He grinned. She returned the grin. For the first time in her life, she had felt that her magic wasn’t something monstrous or useless. It could be beautiful.

“How did you know I would be able to do all this?” she asked, tears brimming in her eyes as she grinned up at him. She felt so light from the euphoria of actually using her magic in such a way.

“You’re more powerful than you realize, Orla. All I did was help you tap into that power.”

“Thank you, Owain.”

“Never fear your power, Orla. It’s a gift, and it’s a shame not to use it.”

Owain pulled her closer to him with only a few inches between them as he raised his hand to cup the back of her neck. His thumb trailed along her jaw and tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Sweet abyss, Orla, I want to kiss you so badly.” Her mouth parted and breath quickened at the declaration. She stared at his full mouth and wanted nothing more than to feel him on her. She knew all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him, all the ways that it was a bad idea, but in that moment, surrounded by beauty that she created, she didn’t care.

“Then kiss me.”

Before she fully got the words out, his mouth was on hers. His lips were so soft as his mouth moved against hers. Owain tightened his grip on her waist while he tilted her head to deepen their kiss. Orla parted her mouth as their tongues met in a carnal dance.

Yes, this is what she wanted: to taste him, to feel the heat of him on her, and to lose herself in this gorgeous male. Owain pulled her bottom lip between his teeth before breaking the kiss to move towards her throat. He kissed and sucked down the column of her neck before he nipped at the spot where her neck and shoulder met, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Orla, before he stroked his tongue over the bite, soothing away the bit of pain. She felt him smile against her skin as she let out a low moan of pleasure.

As he worshiped her neck, her hands gripped his shirt, bringing their bodies closer together. His chest was all hard muscle under her fingers. What she wouldn’t give to feel his skin against hers. Owain returned to her mouth, kissing her even more greedily as he groaned when she ran her fingers through the silky strands of his reddish-brown hair at the nape of his neck. His hand on her waist lowered, moving to cup her backside.