Page 61 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

“There you are!” It came out as a hiss.

“What’s wrong?” Owain was immediately on alert, the unease from earlier creeping back over him.

“King’s guard was sniffing around here earlier, said they were lookin’ for two traitors. A nymph who’s a king slayer and her Elven accomplice.” Vasha said the words quickly in a low voice.

“What did you tell them?” Owain’s head was on a swivel looking left and right.

“Nothing of course. No love lost between me and the king, but you best be out of here soon, Owain. I don’t think they believed me.” Owain nodded.

“If Chrys shows up⁠—”

Vasha waved, cutting him off.

“I know, I know. I’ll see to it he gets past the border.” Owain cupped Vasha’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said while gripping Orla’s elbow with his free hand and ushering her back into the inn.

When they arrived up to their room, Owain began to quickly gather their things.

“What are we going to do?” Orla asked.

“Leave immediately. We can take the horse for the next day or so to put some space between us and the guards, but the last leg of the journey to Iridaceae will have to be on foot. We can get another mount when we are on the other side of the mountain.” Grabbing her things, she started to help Owain pack.

“And what about Chrys?”

“Vasha will make sure he can cross the border. From there, he can find me. I wasn’t totally truthful when I said no one knows about the cabin. Chrys doesn’t know my mother was a witch, though he suspects, but he knows about the cabin. I just never elaborated on whose cabin it was.”

Once they were packed, Owain looked Orla over.

“Wear your sword. Better to have it on you where we are going.”

Chapter Forty-One

The next several days were grueling. They rode their horse to exhaustion, all the while rarely stopping except for when they needed to water the horse. They traveled for nearly a full day before reaching the mountainous trails that would take them across the border before they dismounted and started to make their way on foot.

The Iridaceae Mountains would have been beautiful if they weren’t a jagged, treacherous thing made no less fearsome by the fact that they were traveling during winter. Snow and ice covered the mountains the higher they climbed. Lush evergreen trees gave way to cold, hard rock. The only saving grace was Owain’s magic keeping them relatively warm, but he couldn’t warm too much of the area and cause the snow to loosen, lest they also worry about avalanches on top of everything else.

Each night they slept for a few hours before setting off again at first light. They only stopped because traversing the range after dark was nearly impossible. When night fell, they slept close together for warmth, fearful that a fire would call attention to where they were. The dried meat and berries Orla had brought with them came in handy as they passed little game and even less vegetation the farther up the mountain they climbed.

They spoke very little as they traveled, both aware that they needed to conserve as much energy as possible. And at night, they were both so exhausted that they fell asleep shortly after taking out the bedrolls. Orla had marched to battle through much of Emmental, but she had never been this weary of travel. Still, she didn’t complain, knowing that it wouldn’t help them get there any faster.

On the fourth night of their perilous journey, while they sat together eating dried meat and a few nuts, Orla couldn’t help but ask how much farther they had to go. Her feet were achy and blistered, her body was sore in muscles she didn’t even know she had, and the worry of being captured was a constant companion.

“We’re almost to the Iridaceae side. Another day at least.”

“How does it feel when you cross?” Orla knew of the magical barrier between the two kingdoms but didn’t know if it was something that could be seen or felt.

“For you and me, it will feel like we are being tugged in two directions. The magic of Iridaceae will pull you in while the magic that repels Elves will fight against it. It’s unpleasant, but it only lasts a moment.” Orla hummed in acknowledgement.

“What about Elves like Chrys?”

“When he crosses, it will have to be with a willing creature of non-Elven blood. Last time we crossed, he told me it felt like being squeezed through the eye of a needle. Poor bastard vomited all over himself the first few times we made the journey.” Owain smirked at the memory.

“You’re worried about him,” Orla said, noting the way his smirk didn’t reach his eyes.

“I am. He’s my oldest friend. Hells, my only friend, and he stayed behind so I could get away. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s been harmed because of me.”

“I know the feeling.” Orla reached her hand out, touching his arm lightly to comfort him. Owain smiled down at her touch, leaning into her touch.