Page 32 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

Looking down at her hands, she saw that she still had blood under her fingernails. It had been a long time since she had killed another person. She expected to feel sickened by the fact that she had stabbed a person to death, but surprisingly, she felt resolved. It would have been so easy to succumb to the attack and let it overpower her, but she fought back with all her might. She hadn’t wanted to die in that garden. In fact, being attacked made her realize just how much she wanted to live. She hadn’t been living for a long time, just merely existing.

Though, she would have died if Owain hadn’t seen her. If he hadn’t taken her from the garden and healed her.

“Do you remember what they looked like? Or what kind of creature they were?” Chrys asked.

“I couldn’t tell. Every time I would try to get a good look at their face, it would blur and distort,” she said, voice gaining strength as she continued to speak.

Chrys raised an eyebrow in question as Owain spoke. “The teleportation sounds like Elven magic, but the blurred visage sounds like they used a malleability rune. If they were changeling, then they would have taken on the appearance of someone else, not tried to distort theirs.”

Runes were extremely old magic that few creatures still used. Few Elves bothered with them, not wanting to admit that any other creature could have magic more effective or superior than their own. She wondered how someone as young as Owain would know about that kind of magic and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“You didn’t find them? The person who attacked me that is,” Orla asked. Her memories after being stabbed in the back were hazy, but she knew she had killed the attacker. Their body should have been in the garden.

“There was no sign of them when I looked over the balcony except for a large pool of blood. And Owain didn’t get a look at them before bringing you back to the palace.” Another pointed look ran between the two males as Owain exhaled in irritation. Clearly, she was missing a part of this exchange.

“I’ll see if anyone else around the palace saw anything so we can at least relay the information we do have to King Mikki when you meet with him.” Chrys rose from the armchair, making his way to the door.

“King Mikki has summoned me?” Orla asked. She knew he was expecting her soon and should have been unsurprised that he would want to see her after she was attacked on palace grounds.

“Yes, he sent a missive with the court messenger summoning you. He said you could take a few days to rest, but at the end of this week, he has requested our presence in the throne room.”

Owain rose from his position near the bed. “Let me go get you some food; it’s been days since you’ve eaten.”

“No!” Orla reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave. Please.” She hated the vulnerability in her voice, but she didn’t want to be alone after that kind of attack. She was still weak and didn’t know how well she could defend herself should her attacker return. He kneeled back down near the bed, cupping her face between his hands.

“Never,” he said.

“Why don’t the two of you get cleaned up, and I’ll fetch you both some food,” Chrys said, his shrewd gaze examining the pair.

“Lavender tea,” Owain called after him as he made for the door once again.

“Pardon?”

“She likes lavender tea; tell the butler it’s for Orla and he will know how to prepare it.” Chrys nodded, eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend, before he turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Eighteen

With Owain’s help, Orla slowly made her way to the opulent washroom. Her legs were still sore, and it was difficult to stand without wincing. Standing at the washroom sink, she got her first look at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. Her braids were frayed, her eyes puffy. A deep bruise had bloomed under her chin from a blow she couldn’t even remember.

“Do you need help?” Owain asked. Steam billowed out of the tap on the large, elevated stone tub that Owain had been filling. He looked at her, brows furrowed in concern, lips tight in a thin line. It was strange to see him like this, no cocky swagger or bored indifference. No kind smiles. There was so much fear in his eyes.

She nodded as he moved towards her. Carefully, they started to remove her torn, bloody clothes, taking stock of the rest of her injuries. She had a large scar down her forearm where the assassin slashed her. Owain reached out and gently ran his fingers up the scar.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it from scarring. I had to focus on your more serious injuries first, and the healers were focused on keeping you breathing. I didn’t get to this one until this morning.” He looked so sad as he continued to run his fingers up and down her arm.

“It’s fine. More than fine. I’d be dead if you hadn’t healed me.” He let out a choked sound at her words and nodded as more tears welled in his eyes.

“I’m just glad I got there in time.” He continued helping her undress down to her undergarments as she looked along her body. There was a thin scar on her thigh, and deep bruises on her side. She was surprised by how fully Owain had been able to heal the stab wounds on her back. They hadn’t scarred at all.

When it came time to remove her undergarments, Owain stepped out of the room. “I’ll give you some privacy. Call out if you need me.”

She took her time stepping into the warm tub. The pain from her muscles and stiff joints began to ease. Taking her time, she washed herself fully before moving on to her hair. As she washed, images of the attack flashed in her mind. The attacker lunging at her. The sound of her ribs cracking. The feeling of warm blood gushing between her fingers.

Deftly, she unbraided the thin individual braids before washing and conditioning her coily strands. After she was clean, she dried off and braided her hair into one long plait down her back. She hadn’t brought any clothes into the washroom, so she had to walk out in the towel. When she stepped back into the bedroom, Owain was setting out the food Chrys had brought them. He also had one of her night dresses laid out on the bed. Looking up, he noticed her gaze falling on the garment.

“I had Chrys go into your room and get you a few things. I hope that was all right.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”