Page 53 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

“I need you to know⁠—”

She stood abruptly, moving towards the blankets she had set up a few steps away from the fire.

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Orla gathered herself in her blankets before turning her back to him. She expected her blankets to be cooled from the winter air, but when she got inside them, she noticed their whole camp became warmer. It felt more like sleeping during a cool summer night than in the frigid chill of winter. She scowled at the way it made her heart clinch as she realized how often Owain had used his powers around her. All the times Owain had kept her warm, or when he let the rainfall so mushrooms would grow. But then she thought of the lightning at Fontina and the little thaw of her heart froze over once again.

They continued like that for days, riding in silence, eating in silence, breaking down their camp in silence. This was a kind of loneliness that Orla had never known before. Growing up with her dad, she had felt the loneliness of not belonging. And after his death, she felt the loneliness of being orphaned. She had felt the loneliness of grief and the loneliness of heartbreak. But never before had she been in the company of someone and felt this despair.

Even worse, she was with the person she most wanted to be with. Nightly, Orla’s thoughts wandered to Owain. To the ways he had touched her, to the pleasure he had brought her. And most of all, to how whole he had made her feel. She hated that she couldn’t scrub those memories from her mind.

Each night, Owain warmed their camp before bed. Orla noticed rain clouds overhead on their third evening of travel, but Owain had shielded them from it. Rain fell on every part of their forest, except their camp. Every morning, Owain would wake before Orla to warm water on their campfire before making her tea. Each morning when she woke up and saw the tea, she refused to drink it.

His caring and consideration were like a knife to the chest each day. She wanted so desperately to believe that he had actually cared for her. But internally, she warred with herself. So what if he cared, it didn’t change the fact that he had lied. It certainly did not change the fact that she was now traipsing through the forest fleeing for her life because of him.

Chapter Thirty-Four

As they traveled, the woods they were riding through changed. This wood was far less traveled, and the paths they followed were becoming increasingly more narrowed as trees and plants vied for any available space on the forest floor. Their horses hardly fit walking side by side on the path.

Sick of the silence, Owain pulled his horse in front of Orla’s, cutting her off from the narrow path and forcing her horse to stop.

“Will you please talk to me!” He hadn’t meant it to come out as a yell, but he was at his wits end. She had given him no opportunity to say his peace. He knew that she had every right to be angry with him, but this silent treatment had felt unfair.

Owain was foolish for thinking the word. He knew life wasn’t fair, and a large part of him felt that he deserved whatever punishment Orla decided for his mistreatment of her. But just like at the palace, he couldn’t be around her without wanting her. And not only her body, though the agony of sleeping close to her each night and not touching her was weighing on him.

He wanted her. Her mind, her laugh, her thoughts. He wanted to know how training her magic was going, and if she was still having nightmares or nervous attacks. He wanted to know what went on in that beautiful mind of hers. He wanted to smell her wildflower scent and hear her wind-chime voice.

But at this rate, he would settle for her looking him in the eyes. And though she wouldn’t admit it to him, she must have still cared for him. She wore the ring he had given her, though now it sat on a chain around her neck, sitting next to the emerald medallion she wore, instead of on her middle finger. He hadn’t mentioned to her that he noticed, fearing that she would chuck the ring away just to make a point.

“What do you want me to say to you, Owain?” Her dark brows were low over her eyes, fists clenched on her horse’s reins.

“Anything,” he said desperately.

“Okay. How about the last several days have been torture. Each morning, I wake up and see your face, and for the briefest second, I feel so fucking happy to be near you. And then I remember what you did and how you hurt me and it cuts all over again.”

His heart dropped out of his stomach, but he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his lips. She had never been one to mince her words; he loved that about her.

“There. Was that enough talking for you?” She made to move her horse forward, but Owain was still blocking her path.

“It’s a start. I’m not asking you to forgive me, Orla. I’m just asking you to talk to me.”

“What if I never forgive you?” she replied, her eyes looking down at the forest floor.

They stayed like that for long minutes before he moved out of her way and continued down the path.

After a few moments, Owain replied solemnly, “It would never change how I feel about you.”

That night, they made camp near an outcropping of rocks. They had another four or five days of travel before they would make it to the inn. From there, they would have to scale the mountain on foot as the paths would be too rocky and narrow for horses.

While Orla tended to the fire, Owain set up a few snare traps. He caught two fat squirrels that would go nicely with some of the root vegetables he had collected earlier in the day. After he skinned and cleaned his kills, he roasted them over the fire. It was a clear night; he could see every star and constellation in the sky. Orla reached into her pack and pulled out some of her dried meat.

“I won’t be able to eat all this myself,” Owain said, gesturing to the squirrel and vegetables that he was pulling off the fire. “Save that for farther up the mountain when the game is harder to come by.” He pulled out two plates from his pack and put one of the squirrels and half the vegetables on a plate before handing it to her. She mumbled a terse thank you before beginning to eat.

As they ate, Owain gazed at the night sky, taking in the constellations. The bright lights shone amongst the inky black background. The dark depths reminded him of Orla’s eyes. Pools so deep he couldn’t help but drown in them, regardless of if he wanted to or not.

“Did I ever tell you about the fall of Amara?” Owain pointed up to the constellation of Amara in the sky. He was remembering their time together in the palace chapel. It was the first time he had heard Orla laugh.