Page 54 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

She shook her head.

“I told you about the battle of Amara and Jove. The two were considered the most powerful of all the Gods. Though only one was worth worshiping in my opinion.” He smiled softly, but Orla refused to meet his gaze.

“After their battle, the two were considered equals. Both had followers who built temples in their honor. Whole holidays were set to celebrate them. But to Jove, it wasn’t enough. He still wanted to be the one true God, for all to know his greatness. That wasn’t the case for Amara; for her, all she wanted was to be loved. Unlike the other Gods, she was always alone, destruction following her everywhere she went. Jove knew this, so he used the God of the Heart, Zeph, against Amara. You see, Amara loved Zeph, but she kept away from the other God for fear that her destruction magic would cause pain and misery to the one she loved.”

He looked over at Orla, she wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she was listening. “Jove told Zeph about Amara’s feelings for him, and Zeph returned those feelings. The two were happy and in love. Until Jove used Gaius to trick Amara. Gaius convinced her that her Zeph was an illusion made by Jove and that the only way to free the true Zeph from Jove’s magic was to destroy the imposter. By the time Amara realized their deception it was too late, she had destroyed the one being she loved beyond all else.”

He remembered the first time his mother had told him this story. He was a small boy, but even then she knew how easily influenced he was by his desire to be accepted by others. His mother knew how easily those desires could be corrupted and could lead him astray. It was only when he became a man, and she was long dead, that he realized that she told him the story in hopes that he would learn to resist the tricks of others and to see what was in front of him. That sometimes we have the thing we want most in the world, but we are unable to see it.

A sad smile crossed Owain’s lips. “It’s said that that is why Amara’s constellation is so far from the others.” He pointed to the night sky, showing how far away Amara’s constellation was for those of the other Gods. “She wanders the night, looking for Zeph’s remains. Hoping she can find a way to bring her beloved back from the abyss. But as her magic is only destruction, she will be cursed to wander forever without her heart.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Silence descended on their small camp, both lost in their own thoughts about Owain’s tale.

“Is that what happened to you? Were you tricked into trying to kill me?” Orla’s voice was barely above a whisper. She was looking him in the eye now as she spoke.

The campfire blazed in those pale blue eyes, highlighting the golden flakes and making them look like flames. Gods, she hated how beautiful she found him. Even dirty and exhausted, he was still the most striking male she had ever seen.

“No. I wish I could claim so. But I planned to kill you because I thought it would bring me something I had wanted for a very long time.” A loud crack sounded as he threw the squirrel bones into the fire, staring into the flames.

When Orla had left the palace, she had so many questions for him. Why did he do it? Was anything he did for her real? But once she was near him, she found it difficult to ask. She feared the answers she would get as much as she feared not knowing.

Alas she couldn’t help herself. Maybe it was his story about the Gods that had reminded her so much of their time at the chapel. Or maybe she was just tired of the walls she was putting up. The past week had been lonely and exhausting. Twelve hours a day on horseback, only to sleep on the hard ground of the forest when really what she wanted was to be nestled in Owain’s arms.

Maybe she just missed him. Though she wouldn’t voice those thoughts aloud, not even to herself.

“Was it worth it?” Was all she could manage to say as she tucked her knees under her chin. A question that held so much. It was a question as much for herself as it was for him. Had it been worth it to love him only to be so shattered? She didn’t know the answer.

Owain thought for a long time. So long that Orla thought he wouldn’t answer her at all. He smiled faintly when he finally spoke.

“For the brief time that I had you, yes, it was worth it. You are worth everything to me, Orla. I can’t say that my ambitions were worth losing you, but if I had never taken up the plan to kill you, I never would have had a reason to get to know you. I never would have seen how you are both fierce and guarded. How you are so unfailingly strong but have moments where you are as delicate as Elven-made glass. For a few glorious weeks, I had you. You were mine, and it wasn’t enough, could never be enough. But it was worth it.”

Despite her resistance, a tiny bit of her iced-over heart thawed at his words.

* * *

Orla was still pondering over Owain’s words from the previous evening as the two rode in relative silence. Owain let her know that they were only a two days’ ride to the inn they would be staying at where Chrys would be meeting them. All their time in the saddle meant that they had made good time and could afford to rest more today. It also meant that Orla’s ass was hurting something fierce, and she relished the opportunity to get out of the saddle for a few extra hours.

Though it was winter, the air felt muggy and warm. Orla knew it wasn’t Owain’s magic that was warming the air. His magic had a softer feel to it, like the caress of a soft blanket. This warmth felt more oppressive, like a wool coat on a hot day. The plants in this part of the forest were also different; they had a tropical feel to them that Orla had only seen in books about the plant life in the warmer south in places like the Kingdom of Urdhe.

After riding for a few more minutes, they discovered why. There was a hot spring nestled between two outcroppings of rocks. The water was a deep turquoise and steamy tendrils wafted off its surface.

Orla nearly moaned at the site of it. They have been traveling for over a week without a proper bath. Water had been scarce so they couldn’t waste it on bathing.

Quickly, Orla dismounted before walking over towards the hot spring. Tentatively, she placed a finger in the water to see how hot it was while Owain set up their makeshift camp. A squeal of delight fell from Orla’s lips as she realized that the spring was the temperature of a hot bath.

Before she even realized it, Orla was stripping out of her boots and yanking her dress up overhead when she heard Owain clearing his throat from behind her. In her haste to not feel like a grimy pig, she forgot he was likely looking at her. She turned to face him in nothing but her breast bindings and her trousers. The heat in his gaze made her pause.

“What? I need to wash,” she said defensively.

He smirked. “Carry on. I won’t stop you.” As he turned to unfurl his bedroll, she stripped out of her remaining clothes and walked into the water. She hadn’t known how sore she was until the moment she was nearly submerged in the soothing water. The tensions in her whole body uncurled the deeper she went. Her shoulders relaxed and her jaw unclenched as dirt and grim drifted off her skin.

The hot spring was the size of one of the smaller palace swimming pools, but it could easily fit twenty people comfortably. Orla swam to the far end of the spring before dipping her head into the water. When she rose, her heart jolted.

There, at the water’s edge of the spring, was Owain splashing water over himself, fully and completely naked. She had never seen him naked before. In all their trysts, he had always kept his trousers on. Her mouth suddenly went dry and an unmistakable ache hit her between her thighs. Curse her reaction to him, but by the Gods, was he beautiful.

She knew Owain was well-built, he was a warrior after all, but seeing the taught muscles of his thighs as he walked into the spring was too much. Rivulets of water streamed down his sculpted torso, past the large scars on his chest. He moved farther into the spring with the grace of a jungle cat: lethal and poised for a strike.