Chapter 8 #2
What is going on?What happened to all of his usual boyish charm?
“I…what?” Myth said.
Arvel pushed his seat back and stood, towering above the table. “That’s hardly an answer, Myth. And I’m waiting with bated breath.” His chuckle was a sound so rich and throaty it pressed Myth back into her chair.
“Um,” Myth said with all intelligence.
Arvel slowly ambled around the table, drawing closer to her.
What is this? What is this? Myth’s thoughts stumbled over one another as she tipped her head back so she could peer up at Arvel as he lingered above her.
I should stand. Or move. Or SOMETHING! She tried to move her feet, but it seemed she couldn’t do more than grip the edge of the table.
How can my own bodyfail me likethis because of a, a… smile?!
Once he was at her side,Arvel placed a hand on the table and leaned over it. He wasn’t crowding her, precisely. But with this different air around him, he seemed to take more space, and she felt his closeness as her hair prickled on the back of her neck.
His smile evened out as he openly studied her. But it wasn’t one of his normal grins, it was something much more .
Stop smiling! Myth screamed in her head. And stop looking at me! Then I’d be able to function.
“What’s your answer?” His voice was quiet, but had that edge to it that Myth couldn’t quite pin down.
“You are…that is to say…”
It’s unfair that I am a linguist, and yet Arvel is able to rob me of that ability with just a smile! This is cheating, I know it!
“Yes?” Arvel leaned the tiniest bit closer.
Rather than stare into his eyes—which Myth was positive would make her as stupid as a chicken—she fixed her eyes on the folded collar of his shirt. “Of course I value you. Er, you are my employer.”
“And friend?” Arvel leaned the tiniest bit closer, and Myth was supremely aware of…him.
“And friend,” Myth agreed with a squeak. “As long as your definition matches mine.”
His teeth flashed as he smiled. He opened his mouth again, but thankfully— blessedly —the squeaky wheels of a pushcart trundled closer and closer.
Arvel straightened up and turned around, breaking the heavy air.
Myth sucked in air, and her muscles were roughly the consistency of a pudding tart.
One of the library pages pushing a cart neatly stacked with books popped out of a space between the shelves. She bowed to Arvel and Myth, then maneuvered her cart to the side and began shelving books.
Stars be blessed—she’s staying here! Myth almost collapsed in relief, but she gave Arvel a sneaking glance, just in case.
He ran a hand through his hair—which was more coppery in the reddening light of the sunset—and he ruefully grinned down at her, his usual smile back. “I think we’ve done enough work for tonight. Are you ready to depart?”
Myth didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded, relaxing only when Arvel retreated to his side of the table and began gathering up his materials.
Myth automatically followed his example, and hoped her face didn’t reveal what she was thinking.
What was that? And why did Arvel decide to trot it out now?
* * *
“He smoldered, Blaise. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Myth forced her posture to a perfect straightness—more because the practice felt reassuring than because it was socially required. “He’s always fairly charming and quick to smile. But this was different .”
Blaise carefully scanned the guests of the garden party, probably looking for any unsuspecting elven enchanters she could pounce on and test her Elvish on.
“It certainly sounds different. Mind you, I haven’t seen the crown prince overly much, but I’ve seen enough to know the pleasant smile you’re referring to.
Can’t say I’ve ever seen him throwing around such a flirtatious smile like the one you’re describing, and he doesn’t have a reputation for it, either. ”
Myth glanced at Arvel again—this was a conversation she did not want him to overhear—but he was laughing at something Prince Benjimir said to Blaise’s mentor, the Wizard Edvin.
It seemed he was safely involved in his conversation, and she relaxed minutely, allowing herself to enjoy the pleasant atmosphere of the gardens.
The night’s garden party was one of the annual events the royal families of Lessa and Calnor threw every year for the elven enchanters and human wizards—or so Arvel had told her on their short walk over.
(Thankfully, he’d returned to acting normal, but Myth wasn’t fooled.
Beneath Arvel’s clear smiles and easy laughter, something… burning lurked.)
“It was…”
“Unexpected?” Blaise offered.
Myth wildly shook her head. “That’s not even half as strong enough as the word required to describe it!”
The moon cast a silver light on the guests and the tables filled with food that had been assembled for the party. Candles secured in brightly colored elven paper lanterns hung from string, providing extra light so the guests weren’t stumbling around in near-darkness.
Blaise reached up and prodded one of the lowest hanging lanterns. “He scared you that badly, did he?”
“I wasn’t scared!” Myth scoffed. “But he was so intense . And his smile…it’s like, like he was a prince of seduction!”
Blaise snorted in her laughter.
Myth scowled. “Stop laughing!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…Do you really know what that word means?” Blaise wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
“Seduction? Of course I do!”
“I would dearly love to hear in what context you learned it, then.” Blaise’s smile turned sly as she grinned up at Myth.
“You aren’t taking this seriously.” Myth again scanned the gardens to make sure no one—specifically Arvel—had moved into hearing range.
But currently Blaise and Myth were the only two standing at the edges of the party, next to a giant hedge that formed a back wall for this particular section of the garden.
The songbirds had returned to their nests, their voices swapped for the pleasant chirp of crickets that was just audible over the gurgling splash a tiny waterfall made.
The waterfall was part of a stream that snaked around and through the clearing occupied by the party, but Myth had strategically positioned herself by the waterfall so it would cover her conversation with Blaise.
“I disagree, I am taking your story quite seriously,” Blaise said, drawing Myth back into their conversation.
“If I thought he’d crossed the line with you I would have acted already.
But it doesn’t seem like—for all his ‘ seduction ’—he did anything improper.
Or am I wrong? Did he crowd you in any way? Or touch you inappropriately?”
“No. He was a normal distance, and he didn’t touch me,” Myth said. “It’s just…that smile!”
“Yes, how dare he smile?” Blaise snickered.
“It was intimidating.”
“You were scared, then.”
“No. It, it threw me off balance and startled me.”
“What you really mean to say is that no one before your Prince of Seduction had the guts to lay siege to that impassable serenity of yours,” Blaise said. “He has caught you off-guard—something you aren’t used to.”
Myth pressed her lips together. “When phrased like that, it makes me sound like an idiot.”
Blaise patted Myth’s hands. “A pure idiot.”
Now it was Myth’s turn to scoff.
Blaise shrugged. “You’re an elf. It sounds like he’s coming at you from a very human way of courtship; it is bound to rattle your elven sensibilities, where your people flirt by—I imagine—exchanging flowers you grew for each other or something.”
“We elves are not that righteous in our courtship—and he is not coming at me, as you so barbarically phrased it.”
“Sure,” Blaise agreed. “But, Myth…” The apprentice wizard trailed off and waited until Myth glanced curiously at her.
“If he ever makes you feel uncomfortable, tell him—and then tell me.” Blaise pushed a lock of her russet hair out of her face and glanced at the topic of their discussion.
“I get the impression he’s an honorable sort who would be horrified if he knew he made you uncomfortable and would instantly cease.
But just in case I’m wrong, I still want you to tell me, too. ”
Myth smiled, and basked in the warmth of her friendship with Blaise.
When all was said and done, Blaise was the only person Myth knew without a doubt fully cared for her—not just as a translator or student, but as a person.
Blaise was more concerned, more invested in Myth, than her own father was.
For that, Blaise would have her loyalty forever.
“I will,” Myth said. “Thank you, Blaise.”
“Of course.” Blaise awkwardly cleared her throat, then straightened her skirt. “If you don’t think he’s coming at you, what prompted it?”
“I believe it was due to overworking,” Myth theorized. “The relief caused him to act…strangely.”
It was the only even remotely reasonable explanation Myth could come up with.
Arvel was the crown prince and her employer. And though she hadn’t known him long, it was apparent he was honorable. Which meant there was no reason for him to approach her—a mere translator—with any sort of thoughts of romance.
He had rattled her, but Myth had learned enough of Calnorian culture in her reading to know that crown princes didn’t go around marrying commoners—even elven commoners.
“You know, for being so intelligent you certainly like to delude yourself,” Blaise said. Before Myth could scoff out a reply, she added,“Don’t look now, but I think your seducer is on his way over.”