Page 57 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

“I tried,” she wheezed. “I tried to conjure thorns. Tried to summon them against the hounds but they just… they wouldn’t come.” A haunted look passed over her eyes. As if she were reliving her time in Fontina and the horrors she associated with her magic.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get up here quicker,” he said, searching her gaze to make sure she was okay.

“Yeah, you couldn’t have struck them before I had to rock climb?” There was a hint of a smile on her face. For the first time since she left the palace, she was teasing him.

He shook his head. “Only if you wanted us to get electrocuted as well. We had to be out of the water.”

Finally, they took stock of one another. Both naked, wet, and covered in blood. Owain had a large gash on his arm, and both their hands were cut up from the climb. Orla started chuckling at the sight of him before it became a full belly laugh. It wasn’t comical, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Owain began to laugh too, the absurdity of their situation not lost on either of them. Of all the people to save her life, Owain had saved her twice now.

“You are a terrible assassin,” Orla barked between bouts of laughter.

“And you are impossible to kill.” They howled even more at that. Once their laughter subsided, Orla looked at Owain. Really looked at him.

“You were never going to kill me.” It wasn’t a question.

“How could a lowly bastard like me ever kill a goddess.” He smiled at her before reaching out and cupping her cheek.

“So much for a relaxing day, eh?” She laughed again.

They moved from the rocks, slowly making their way down back towards the entrance of the hot spring where they washed off all the blood. When they got back to their camp, they saw the reason one of the hellhounds had been covered in blood. It had killed Owain’s mare.

“We can’t stay here tonight.” Orla nodded in agreement.

“They were your father’s hounds,” she said. “I know his preference for using the beasts to do Edam’s dirty work.”

Rushing to leave, they packed up their camp and mounted the one horse. If they traveled through the night, they could make it to the inn the following evening. It would be a hard day’s travel for the horse, but if the hellhounds found them, King Vernon’s warriors would likely not be far behind. If they could get to Iridaceae, they would be safe.

Orla rode in the front of the horse with Owain behind her. They cantered through the forest faster than was advisable at such a late hour, but both Owain and Orla were impatient to get to the inn. Not only would it mean a bed and a hot meal they didn’t have to kill but also that they would meet back up with Chrys and get much-needed updates on what is happening with the kingdom.

Owain held onto Orla’s waist gently, but the shifting of her backside against him as they rode was torture. He had come so close to kissing her before the hounds appeared, and it had seemed that Orla may have let him. But he ignored those thoughts with the same intensity that he ignored his growing erection.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

After twenty-four torturous hours on their mount, the inn came into view. It was shabby, with a thatched roof and stone exterior. Orla thought the little inn couldn’t have held more than a half a dozen rooms.

They dismounted from the horse, who was near exhaustion, handing the reins over to a young stable hand before Owain paid him a few copper coins to take extra care of the steed. The door to the inn was a chipped red, and it creaked loudly when they entered. On the bottom floor of the inn appeared to be a tavern.

Orla was surprised to see how many people were in the tiny tavern, creatures of all kinds. A few minotaurs, several witches, nymphs, and orcs. Even a chimera sat at the far end of the bar. It reminded her of The Boars Head tavern in Imsil that she enjoyed so much with Cessly and Rhyan. Though this one was much shabbier and far smaller.

Owain walked over towards the barmaid, an attractive lamia with red hair and freckles along her pale face. The snake portion of her body was long and elegant. When she saw Owain, her face broke out into a wide smile.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts in quite some time, m’lord.”

Oh, they knew each other. Orla didn’t know why but a twinge of annoyance hit her when she saw how the pretty lamia looked at Owain.

“Vasha, it has been some time.” He smiled at her before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. Now Orla was very annoyed. She told herself it was the long ride and her desire to have a warm meal that was the cause of her irrational emotions.

The lamia, Vasha, beamed up at Owain. Orla cleared her throat. To her surprise, Owain pulled her close to him by her waist.

“Orla, Vasha.” He inclined his head towards the woman.

“Vasha, this is the incomparable Orla.” Vasha raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing Owain’s hand around Orla’s waist. “We will need a room. We are going to be staying here a night or two while we wait for Chrys to join us.”

“Chrys will be joining you? Gods and devils, he’ll drink this place dry. Second floor, end of the hall on yer left,” Vasha said as she gave Owain a key.

The room was sparsely decorated. There was a large four-poster bed, a wardrobe, and a small hearth. Owain let her know that the bathing chambers were communal and down the hall.

“One bed?” Orla asked, raising an eyebrow at him.