Chapter 4 #2
That was one of the unexpected aspects of her temporary position.
As a trade translator she only discussed work.
As a social translator assigned to the crown prince, she was frequently told to stay at his side even as he discussed important matters that she frankly had no business knowing and no desire to hear.
Yet another reason why I cannot wait to return to my department. I imagine social translators must have to sign some sort of oath when they take their positions, to guaranteetheir discretion.
“How can I help you, Sir Arion?” Crown Prince Arvel lowered himself into his chair with a sort of casual grace, while Sir Arion remained standing despite the open chair the crown prince pointed to.
“I’ve come to ask you to reconsider your position on personal guards,” Sir Arion said. “It was understandable when you were first made heir that you didn’t want assigned protection. But it is my belief that, should you remain unguarded much longer, certain persons may take advantage of this.”
Myth glanced at her borrowed mathematics book with longing, but she’d read that book when she was off duty.
Instead, she paged through one of the social books until she found a chapter that seemed particularly necessary to read—Calnoric formal greetings—and absently heard the thump Crown Prince Arvel made when he planted his elbows on his desk.
“You’re referring to the Fultons,” he said.
Myth froze, staring unseeingly at the words on the page.
The Fultons were a powerful Calnorian noble family.
They specialized in trading—both across the country and beyond the borders of Calnor.
But what was perhaps most notable about them in this particular context was that the Queen of Calnor, Her Majesty Queen Luciee, was a member of the Fulton family.
Arvel thinks his mother’s family would attack him?
The idea was so…foreign, and sad . They were his family; they wouldn’t try to hurt him, would they?But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t her business.
It took every ounce of Myth’s will to keep from looking up. She forced herself to turn a page in her book, and once again tried to read.
“It is not my place to suppose what the Fultons are and are not capable of,” Sir Arion replied with an admirable amount of calm.
“I’m not naive, Arion. I know they’re a threat.
” Crown Prince Arvel sighed. “They were relatively leashed when Mother presided over the social courts and controlled who was in and who was an outcast. But she lost that power to Gwendafyn, who is now the indisputable social darling. I imagine they feel threatened, and are afraid that their power will wane as Mother’s influence has. ”
Focus. Court intrigue is not part of my calling as a trade translator. Myth guiltily gripped the sides of her book.
“Arvel, I am the Guard Commander,” Sir Arion said. “I do not care for the actions of the court, or the petty squabbles between nobles. Your safety is, at this moment, my greatest concern. Please consider allowing a small squad of Honor Guards to follow you.”
“But you aren’t going to deny the Fultons are the greatest threat?”
Myth peeked up in time to seeSir Arion gravely meet the crown prince’s gaze. “No. They are the reason why I have come before you today.” He paused, then added, “I have already informed the Commanding General of the situation.”
“Oh? What did Benjimir have to say about it?”
“Nothing suited for polite company. It is sufficient to say he is also keeping an eye on the Fultons.”
A deep sigh leaked out of Crown Prince Arvel.“At least we’re all on the same page.”
“Then you agree to the placement of Honor Guards?”
“Not hardly.”
“ Your. Highness ,” Sir Arion said with dangerous patience.
“I know it’s a risk, but it’s a calculated one,” Arvel said. “I haven’t annoyed the Fultons enough yet, and they certainly don’t fear me the way they are scared of Benjimir or Gwendafyn. I estimate I’m safe for another season or so.”
“Your life isn’t something to risk over an estimation .”
“Not normally,” the crown prince agreed.
“Except this is my last chance of freedom. The nobles haven’t stopped pandering to Father—they know I’m unimportant.
The worst I get is women chasing after my title.
I can still slip out of socials, still walk through the palace unaccounted.
As soon as I get the Honor Guards, that will remind everyone who I am, and what I will become. Everything will change, then.”
Myth, turning another page in the book she was barely reading, frowned on behalf of the prince.
He sounded…resigned. How could he talk about his people as if they all only saw his position?
Myth had been with him for a short time, and it was obvious between Rollo, the librarian, and the few officials she had met that they esteemed him for his intelligence.
She’d even bet that Sir Arion was silent not because of protocol, but because he felt for the prince.
She risked glancing up, and was vindicated to find she was right.
Sir Arion’s brow was furrowed and his stance was still as straight as a board, but the set of his mouth—the slight downturn of his lips—said he regretted the prince’s words.
“You are an excellent crown prince, Arvel,” Sir Arion said. “Better than Benjimir ever was. He was meant to be a general and to protect. You concern yourself with the prosperity of your people and the land.”
Arvel shrugged. “My capabilities don’t really matter as much as what people think . And I’m happy to be underestimated right now. I’ve seen the crowd that revolves around my father. I’m not ready for that.”
Sir Arion narrowed his eyes. “You will need guards eventually.”
“Yes. You’re right. But I still have some time before I need them right now.”
Sir Arion gave Arvel a look Myth interpreted as a promise to start lurking around Arvel’s study.
Arvel must have seen it too, because he hastily added, “Come winter, I’ll agree to some Honor Guards.”
The silence was so heavy, Myth didn’t dare turn a page, even though she’d finished studying the detailed drawing of how to perform a proper curtsy.
“Fine,” Sir Arion growled. “As long as the situation does not change. However , if I discover that your life is in peril, you will get multiple squads assigned to you immediately.”
Arvel flashed a smile, his good humor once again forefront rather than the quiet courteousness he’d been showing Sir Arion. “Understood.”
Sir Arion sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You say you understand, but I am not certain you are taking your wellbeing as seriously as you need to.”
Arvel shrugged. “How are Tari and the children?”
Sir Arion remained for several more minutes, sharing stories of his children—a quiet young boy who, at age four, was as fluent in Elvish as he was Calnoric, an adorable little girl, and a newborn baby boy.
Myth only let herself look up again when Sir Arion bowed to Crown Prince Arvel and said his farewells, bidding Myth a good day on his way out. She glanced up long enough to see him disappear through the doorway, offered Arvel a quick smile, then fixed her attention on her book with renewed fervor.
She was aware that Arvel watched her for several long moments, until she became so interested in her book she no longer noticed, and lost herself to a case study on Calnoric titles.
* * *
In the evening hours of the following day, Myth cradled a book in her hands as she made her way through the palace and to the library.
She had finished reading one of her borrowed books, and while her workday was technically finished as Arvel didn’t have any social commitments in the evening, she wanted to return the book in hopes that she might be able to borrow another.
She didn’t mind the trip. She intended to linger in the library, which always seemed to cheer her up no matter how she felt.
And while the past few days hadn’t been as stressful as Myth had prepared herself for, she was still tensed most of the time, and her cheeks were starting to hurt from the slight smile she frequently wore to make herself look pleasant.
Myth yawned widely and confirmed she was alone in the hallway before she began to swing her free arm, loosening her shoulders and brushing out some of the wrinkles pressed into her apprentice jacket.
She glanced down at her shirt, checking to make sure nothing had dirtied the crisp, light blue shirt with its dark blue embroidery that matched the lapels and cuffs of her jacket. She was feeling so good, she even made a jaunty whistle or two as she strolled along.
She passed Arvel’s now-familiar study, glanced at the door, and saw the slit of light escaping from under it. She jolted to a stop, and for a panic-stricken moment she wondered if she had made a mistake.
Why ishe still working? Was I supposed to return after dinner? Did I forget an appointment? No, I couldn’t have. He bid me a good night when we parted. But why, then, is there a light coming from his study?
Myth dithered for a few moments, then reluctantly marched herself up to the door and knocked. Unlike Rollo and the other Calnorians she had met, Myth waited outside.
Her book told her Calnorians had minimum concern for privacy, and if you were close with a person you entered the room regardless of whether they gave you spoken permission or not.
Myth had decided that, as Crown Prince Arvel’s employee, they were considered work companions, but not friends, so she stayed staring at the door.
A few moments passed, and the door’s hinges creaked as it opened. “Hello, Mythlan! Come in—I’ve told you before you don’t need to knock.” The crown prince playfully shook a finger at her as he returned to his desk.
Reluctantly, Myth stepped inside the study—although she left the door open.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.