Page 45 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

Dominion over the weather… Orla puzzled over that before a startling realization hit her.

That day, at Fontina, she had been distracted by a flash of lightning in an otherwise clear day. And if she was understanding them correctly, that had been Owain. He had distracted her intentionally so that Prince Gwayne could sneak up on her and kill her

Owain was the reason Rhyan was dead…

The world tilted.

Orla felt sick, her thoughts frantic. It took every ounce of her being not to vomit on the terrace floor. This couldn’t be true. Owain had treated her so kindly. He had cared for her and made her feel safe.

Oh Gods, this male who is going to kill her made her feel safe.

Lord Patrin continued. “He has played his part well. By all accounts, the chit has fallen for him. She won’t see his deception coming and then he will put the rest of his plans in motion. Putting this kingdom to the torch for what they did to his brother.” Their voices started to fade as the two men walked away, heading back towards the ballroom entrance.

Orla stood frozen, devastated by what she had heard. Her heart drummed in her ears as her eyes stung. She hadn’t even realized she had begun to cry.

It had all been a ruse. A trick to gain her trust to make it even more cruel when he killed her.

This time she was sick and barely made it over to the side of the terrace before heaving up the contents of her stomach. How could this be?

The male who picked herbs with her, who brought her lavender tea when she was overwhelmed, and who had brought her so much pleasure and happiness had been lying to her the entire time. That must have been why he never took his pleasure with me, Orla thought.

He gave her pleasure to distract her. She had let this male into her body, but worse, she had let him into her heart.

Foolish… Stupid… Hopeless.

New words chanted into Orla’s mind. She had never once questioned Owain’s kindness, and it had been a lie the entire time.

She had to go. Had to get the fuck out of this palace and as far away from these people as she could manage. But first, she had to warn the king. If what Lord Patrin and Lord Calix said was true, killing her was only a part of what they came here to do. She would pack and get a message to the king, but she wasn’t about to die here. Not when she had only just begun to live.

Because of him.

She had felt more alive in the past two moons than she had in seven years, and so much of that was because of Owain. Because he cared for her.

Correction, he pretended to care about her. The thought was a stab through the heart.

Orla moved before she was consciously aware of what she was doing. Racing down the terrace steps, she circled the large grounds to get back to her room. She needed her things and then she needed to get a message to King Mikki. Unaware of how fast she has been moving, Orla bursts into her rooms.

Owain’s rooms.

This had been a sanctuary. A temple to the relationship they had been building, and it was all a lie.

She packed her rucksack with the things she would need for the six-day ride back to Benin. She threw in clothes and her armor and weapons. She hastily grabbed her things from the washroom, shoving them haphazardly into her pack. She changed out of the dress she wore. The one that matched Owain’s suit perfectly, like they were two halves of a whole.

Gods, how far did his deception go?

When it came time to pack the book he gave her, she paused. It had been such a thoughtful gift. He had wanted her to learn more about her magic, wanted her to feel in control of it instead of controlled by it.

Why would he do that if he wanted to kill her? She debated leaving the book, but she just couldn’t. Part of her wanted to believe that what they had was real. That he had cared about her. That maybe it wasn’t all a lie.

Quickly, Orla began to scribble a note for King Mikki, informing him of what she had discovered when the door to the room creaked open. Silently, she stood flush up against the wall, grabbing one of the daggers sheathed on the outside of her pack. The room was dark. Orla hadn’t bothered to light the mage lights, so focused on getting her things and getting away as fast as possible.

“Orla?” Owain called out as he entered the room. He turned away from her, looking around the room when she struck, pressing the dagger to his throat.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now.” Despair had turned to fury. This male who she cared for, who she had grown to love, had been lying to her the entire time, and she wanted to know why.

“What’s going on? What are you talking about?” Raising his hands, he made to turn towards her, but she pressed the dagger farther into his skin, drawing a prick of blood.

“Stop fucking lying to me, Owain,” she spat, anger boiling over. “I know about your plans. Your desire to avenge Prince Gwayne by killing me.”