Page 44 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

The word echoed in her head. Owain made her feel safe.

She knew she cared for him, but in that moment, she realized that she was also falling in love with him. Part of her feared that love. She had killed one of the last people she loved and disappointed the other. She also thought about how loving her mother had killed her father, worrying that her love would never be enough for Owain.

But then she remembered Cessly’s words: that she didn’t blame her. And she remembered Owain telling her she wasn’t a monster. And a bigger part of her thought that, maybe for the first time in her life, it would be safe to love someone and let them love her back.

They meandered around the ball, talking to the various lords and ladies in attendance and bowing low when King Mikki made his arrival. Orla noticed the Edamish lords milling around on the outskirts of the party, looking between her and Owain in assessment.

“Welcome, my esteemed guests and subjects,” King Mikki addressed the attendees.

“Please join me in welcoming Lord Owain Acer, Heir Presumptive to the Kingdom of Edam as my guest of honor. Over the last several moons, Lord Owain has been working tirelessly to heal the divisions between the Kingdom of Edam and the Kingdom of Emmental. This ball is a celebration not only of the might of Emmental, but of the mending of relations within our continent. Drink and be merry.”

With a clap, the dancing began.

They made their way around the ballroom, drinking the wine on offer and eating a few pastries and cakes that were floating around on trays held by the various palace staff. After a few lively pieces from the string quartet, a slower song began to play. A song for lovers. A song they shouldn’t be dancing to in front of the eyes of so many.

“May I have this dance, Lady Orla?” he asked with a smirk, feigning formality while the eyes of so many at court were on them. Orla hesitated, thinking of all the reasons she should say no. But the eager grin on Owain’s face won her over.

“Yes, you may, Lord Owain,” She responded in kind.

They made their way to the dance floor as onlookers continued to gawk at the pair, whispers intensifying. Owain pulled Orla entirely too close for propriety, but he didn’t seem to care. Their dance began; a simple waltz.

As they danced, Orla stared into Owain’s pale blue eyes. The flakes of gold were catching the mage lights, making his eyes appear greener. Gods, he was beautiful. And he looked especially good that evening. He wore a well-tailored suit made of the same emerald green color as her dress. The lapels were also decorated in a fine gold brocade. He wore a black shirt under his suit with the top few buttons undone, revealing a peek at his tanned, golden skin. His freckles were put in sharp relief in the light of the ballroom, and his hair looked more red than brown tonight. She could stare at him all night and it wouldn’t be enough.

“Do you like the dress?” he asked, pulling her even closer, their hips touching, as they moved in time with the music.

“I love it. The designer has good taste,” she said with a teasing smile.

“Impeccable taste, you mean.” He winked at her before dipping her low. As the song continued, she felt Owain’s hand graze against the exposed skin of the low-back dress. His touch was electrifying.

As they twirled, he kept opening and closing his mouth like he meant to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. Brow furrowed, he began to speak. “Orla, I—” As the dance came to a close, his eyes snagged on someone across the room. Orla looked to see Chrys pointedly motioning for Owain to join him.

“Chrys needs me,” he said. “Meet me at the terrace in five minutes. I shouldn’t be long.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead before moving across the room to join the shorter male. Orla watched his back as he retreated, before turning to see the other Edamish lords staring her way.

* * *

Orla waited outside on the large terrace which overlooked the Capron Ocean. Large pillars separated the terrace from the ballroom. Ship lights twinkled on the water. The smell of sea air wafted around the terrace on the crisp winter night. Crashing ocean waves drowned out the music in the ballroom as she wondered what Owain was going to say to her. He had been so attentive all night, never leaving her side and ushering her away from conversations that set off her nerves.

As Orla waited, she heard hushed conversations behind one of the far pillars. It sounded like they didn’t want to be disturbed, but one of the hushed voices mentioned Owain’s name, which piqued her interest.

Slowly, she padded over towards that pillar, close enough to hear more of what they were saying without being seen.

“—time for retribution. He never got over the death of his brother, and killing her would serve as swift justice,” one of the voices said. It sounded familiar. Was it Lord Patrin?

“How does he plan to do it?” She also recognized this voice as Lord Calix.

Wait. They were talking about Owain killing someone?

That couldn’t be right. She must have misheard who they were discussing.

Moving closer, she tried to drown out the sound of the ocean waves to focus on what they were saying.

“Slit her throat, I think. A fitting end since that’s how Prince Gwayne ended her companion. A feat that wouldn’t have been possible if Lord Owain hadn’t distracted the foolish nymph. Though I know he always regretted that Prince Gwayne hadn’t been able to kill her himself,” Lord Patrin replied.

Me. They are talking about me.

Orla’s thoughts were spinning out of control. Owain was going to kill her. To slit her throat as if she were nothing but a lamb for slaughter.

“Lord Owain’s dominion over the weather has come in handy over the years. Especially at Fontina,” Lord Calix agreed.