Page 49 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

“Do you think I am that easily fooled?”

Creeping out of the shadows of the next stable was Lord Calix, a vicious grin spread across his face.

Owain and Chrys froze. Reaching for his sword, Chrys moved towards Lord Calix, but the older male was quicker, blinking out of the way from Chrys’s blade before unsheathing a dagger and throwing it. The dagger buried deep in Chrys’s forearm causing his steps to falter, as he dropped his weapon.

Realization swept over Owain. Calix was the one who attacked Orla in the gardens. But that should have been impossible. Orla had stabbed the attacker in the throat several times, and Owain could have sworn they were dead when he shoved them off her. Very few kinds of magic could protect someone from that kind of attack.

“Tell me, Chrys, why would a messenger need a sword strapped to his back?” He unsheathed another dagger, this time pointing it at Owain while Chrys clutched at the wound to his arm.

“You two bastards aren’t as clever as you think you are.” Both males thought about moving, but one well-placed throw from those daggers, and they could be dead.

Owain’s brain was working double time; he had to get to Orla, but he wouldn’t leave Chrys here wounded and defenseless. Discreetly, Owain removed his own dagger, but Lord Calix caught the movement.

“Try it. But your aim better be good, bastard, because I’ve already informed the king of your deception. Others will be here shortly.” As he said it, Owain heard shouts coming from the palace. They had minutes, if that, before this plan went to shit.

Owain’s best course of action was to distract the male for as long as he could.

“Teleportation? That’s not one of your powers. How’d you come into such a convenient gift?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bastard. My king has been amassing power for decades and those loyal to him will be bestowed a greater power than the Elves of this continent have ever imagined.”

Owain didn’t like the sound of that, and he worried that Calix would blink again any moment and kill either him or Chrys.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Owain moved. He threw his dagger, aiming for Lord Calix’s boot. The older male didn’t see that coming, throwing his own dagger as well, but missing Owain. Chrys lunged for his sword, arms shaking from the strain of holding it with his injured arm when Calix blinked again. This time, he appeared in front of Owain before slashing down his thigh. Before he could react, Calix blinked to the other side of the stables and out of reach.

He had never seen magic like this. Calix’s Elven powers were all related to the mind. Unless he had been hiding this ability, it didn’t make sense, and an ability like this was hard to hide.

Owain had to think.

Calix could have killed them by now with how fast he was. The only reason he hadn’t must be because he is waiting for the others to arrive. Owain’s father would love nothing more than to kill Owain himself for his lack of loyalty. If Calix was told not to kill them, he could use his hesitation to their advantage, he just had to try to anticipate where the male would strike next.

Owain pivoted on his feet, putting himself between Chrys and Calix while he unsheathed another dagger.

“You deign to try and kill me, bastard? But it’s too late, you showed your heart and your father knows you have betrayed him. Killing me won’t keep you your lackey”—he tossed a glance at Chrys—“or your whore safe. If only you had remembered your place instead of trying to best your betters.”

Calix blinked again, but Owain anticipated this move and was on him in seconds. He unsheathed the broadsword on his back. He felt Calix tense beneath him as if preparing to blink, but in a heartbeat, Owain sliced this sword across Lord Calix’s throat. Blood poured from the wound as he dropped the older male to the ground with a dull thump.

Owain rushed to grab the discarded daggers before reaching for Chrys’s arm to heal him.

“Leave it,” Chrys said. “We need to hide his body. It won’t buy much time, but it can buy us some.”

Owain nodded, quickly pulling off Lord Calix’s blood-soaked armor and handing it to Chrys. As Owain stripped the male, he noticed a series of complex runes etched into the flesh on Lord Calix’s chest like a brand.

“Have you ever seen runes on a body like that, Owain?” Apprehension and fear laced Chrys’s voice.

“Never.”

Gaping with confusion, Owain leaned down to examine the intricate symbols. Dread crept along his neck. Whatever was happening within the inner circle of his father’s court was more complex than he had realized.

Making a last minute decision, Owain drove his sword straight down through Calix’s neck. He sawed back and forth until the elder males head came free of his body as Chrys nodded in agreement with Owain’s course of action.

More shouts could be heard, growing closer to the stables. They were running out of time.

“You have to go,” Chrys urged.

Quickly, Chrys changed form again, making himself resemble Lord Calix as Owain dragged the corpse of the real Lord Calix into a dark stall. The two worked to cover him in straw before giving up and throwing a blanket over the male. This ruse, if it worked, would only buy them a few hours at most, and they had to move.

Owain mounted his horse and reminded Chrys of their meeting point. The voices of Lord Calix’s reinforcements were growing louder as Chrys made to leave the stables.