Page 70 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

Owain stayed in her for a while longer, both reveling in their bodies being connected in this way. They kissed and touched, memorizing the feel of their bodies being intertwined.

Slowly, he rolled and pulled out of her. Owain grabbed a warm towel from the washroom, gently wiping between Orla’s legs before rejoining her on the bed.

“Are you well?” he asked. She hadn’t said anything since she came.

“I am more than well. By the Gods, that was—” She paused. “There are no words. I love you, Owain.”

“I love you, Orla,” he said, gently kissing her forehead.

They stayed together in bed the rest of the day, indulging in each other’s bodies again and again and again.

Chapter Forty-Eight

The couch, the kitchen table, the outside wall of the cabin. Over the next several days, no surface of the tiny cabin was safe from their lovemaking. Each morning, after having her every way he could, Owain would make her lavender tea and fresh bread. There were preserves stashed in the cupboards of the cabin from Owain’s previous stays.

After their breakfasts, they would bathe. Though they barely fit in the tub together that didn’t deter them, still high on the feelings of finally acting on their love. Some days they would stay in the cabin and talk, or Orla would read while Owain drew. Other days, they made their way to the river where he had her several times, regardless of the fact that anyone walking near the river would be able to see. He even had Orla in the garden while she attempted to grow flowers in the unpredictable climate of Iridaceae.

Orla had been wrong when they arrived; it wasn’t autumn. The weather changed from day to day. One day it would be as humid and hot as any summer day, and then days later, snow would be sticking to the ground. Combined with her temperamental magic. It made growing flowers surprisingly difficult. That didn’t stop magic from bursting out of her at random. Though now it looked more like flower petals being left in her wake whenever she would walk around the tiny cabin after being ravished by Owain. Orla found it frustrating that she was having to start from scratch controlling her power, but Owain said he found the trail of flowers she left charming, clearly self-satisfied with the reaction he elicited from her.

As Orla headed towards the garden to try to will her seeds to sprout, she looked back into the bedchamber. Owain was asleep, spent from their most recent rounds of lovemaking. She marveled at his gorgeous form, naked and sprawled out over the bed, cock half hard and glistening from their shared releases. Gods, she was lucky.

This creative selfless male was hers to love and be loved by in return. In many ways, Orla felt whole for the first time in her life. With Owain, she could be herself. She no longer had to pretend to be the fearsome Hero of Fontina, nor did she have to be the meek nymph of her childhood. He gave her the space to be strong while honoring her softness. He showed her his love the best way he knew how, through repeated actions of tenderness and care. Her heart swelled at the thought.

Making her way to the door, she started. There was a knock at the front door. Orla hadn’t seen anyone nearby in the weeks they had been there. Owain had told her that his mother’s coven used the nearby cabins during certain rituals or times where the veil between their world and the abyss was thinnest, but otherwise, few resided in the area full time.

Quickly, she grabbed the fire poker that was leaned against the hearth as the front door creaked open. Orla thought about grabbing the swords that were placed on side table, but the thought of swords clanging left her feeling on edge, and if someone had followed them, she needed her wits about her.

What Orla saw next shocked her speechless. Walking through the door was a female with a familiar head of chestnut brown hair and a kind, heart-shaped face.

Cessly. Behind her, another brunet a few inches taller than Cessly with his hair done up in a topknot. Chrys.

How the hells were these two together?

“Orla!” Cessly cried out, seeing the female for the first time in over a moon. Orla dropped the fire poker and ran into the arms of her friend. Happy tears filled her eyes, and she looked up at the taller female.

“How are you here?” she asked, looking from Cessly to Chrys. Despite being preoccupied with other activities, Owain and Orla had talked at length about Chrys, worrying over why he had been unable to meet them at the inn.

Woken from the commotion in the sitting room, Owain ambled out of the bedroom, still very naked.

“What in the hells is all this?” he asked before his gaze met Chrys’s. The smile across both of the males’ faces could have lit up the night sky.

“Sweet abyss, you didn’t die,” he said to Chrys, grinning as he walked towards his friend, embracing him in a tight hug.

“Neither did you. Though I heard you put up a good attempt at it.” Owain looked at him, puzzled.

“Put your trousers on, and we’ll tell you what happened. You can fill us in as well. By the looks of it, you two have gotten cozy,” Chrys said, pointedly looking at Owain’s naked body.

* * *

When everyone was appropriately dressed, the group sat down in the sitting room. In the middle of the room sat a table piled with breads, preserves, dried fruits, and wine. If Cessly and Chrys’s journey had been anything like theirs, they must be starving.

“How did you get away?” Owain asked as Chrys poured himself a generous glass of wine. The thing Orla had heard about Chrys’s whereabouts was that he was impersonating Lord Calix for Owain’s benefit.

“Not easily,” Chrys said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I couldn’t slip away from the guard, and it didn’t take them long to find Calix’s body. Once they realized who I was, they set a price on my head, same as you. Traitor to the realm and all that.” He took a long gulp of his wine. “Thankfully, I had been impersonating the imp for so long that I was able to use the servant’s entrance to get away. I ran straight to this one and convinced her to help get me here.” He pointed at Cessly.

“Begged. You begged me to help you.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Which I was happy to do,” she continued. “They set a price on my head too. I guess they thought because we are old friends that you would come to me for help.” She looked at Orla now. “I knew you didn’t kill the king. For all that’s happened since Fontina, you’d never be disloyal to King Mikki. When Chrys showed up needing to escape, I knew it would be my best bet at finding you.”

“How did you find us?” asked Orla, her gaze bouncing between Cessly and Chrys.