Chapter 10
“I apologize, Queen Luciee. But you’re not my queen. I am not beholden to you as I am to My Queen Firea,” Myth said in her calmest tone. She met the queen’s enraged gaze and slowly let the tiniest hint of a smile grace her lips.
Queen Luciee snarled. “You—”
“ Enough !” Queen Firea shouted the word in Elvish, but the anger in her voice made the meaning plain.
“Translator Myth.” Queen Firea’s voice was ageless in her anger—like the fury of a storm.
“Kindly inform Queen Luciee that if she threatens anyone again—especially Arvel or yourself—the elves will cease all trade with the Fultons and refrain from acknowledging her publicly— even after her death .”
Myth relayed the words in the most toneless voice she could muster.
Queen Luciee’s rage-white skin tone spread, and she cast Myth a poisonous look. However, she refrained from speaking, and instead strode from the room with an angry huff.
Once Queen Luciee had left, King Celrinretreated to his wife’s side and kissed her forehead. “I knew Gwendafyn didn’t get it solely from my family.”
Queen Firea shook her head. “I’ve seen that woman eye up Gwendafyn too much, and I’ll pick up a sword myself before I let someone harass Fyn like that again.
” She turned the full power of her gaze on Myth, who felt the keen difference between a monarch greedy for power, and one brimming with power.
“If she targets you, Translator Mythlan, please do not hesitate to tell myself, or Celrin, or Gwendafyn.”
Myth bowed. “I thank you, My Queen, but I am just a humble translator.”
It’s sweet of her to offer, but I’d be surprised if she remembers it a week from now. Not that it would reflect poorly upon her. However, she has bigger worries than protecting an apprentice translator.
Queen Firea studied her for a moment and must have read something in Myth’s expression.“A good ruler cares for all her people. Tell us, Translator Mythlan. That’s an order.” She set a motherly hand on Myth’s cheek and smiled to soften her words.
“Yes, My Queen,” Myth gurgled.
“King Celrin, Queen Firea, I apologize you had to witness something so ugly.” Arvel’s smile was tired and worn out. “And I thank you for stepping in on behalf of my translator.”
Once Myth made the translation, King Celrin patted Arvel on the shoulder. “You’re an excellent crown prince, Arvel. Your father thinks so as well.”
Myth was slightly confused at the sudden change in topic, but relayed King Celrin’s words regardless.
“Thank you, King Celrin. It means much to know you think so.” Arvel’s pleasant smile made its return as Myth translated his thanks.
The elven monarchs kept up a steady trickle of entertaining conversation until Princess Gwendafyn and Prince Benjimir arrived.
Then, Myth was allowed to fade into the background as Benjimir, sitting next to his brother, translated for him.
King Petyrr marched into the room minutes later with Translator Rollo, two footmen, and a scullery maid carrying an excessively fat orange cat, and breakfast proceeded in a delightfully civil fashion without the presence of a certain queen.
It wasn’t until they left the breakfast room, however, that Myth let her shoulders slump, and rubbed her eyes.
“That was awful. I don’t understand how you survived…
” She trailed off when she realized her rude comments were warranted but were, perhaps, a little too informal given she was conversing with the crown prince—friend or not.
“Having that woman as my mother?” Arvel supplied. “Come. We both could use some sunshine.” He led Myth out of the open-air corridors that snaked around the outer edge of the palace and down a brick path that weaved into Rosewood Park.
Birds played in a bird bath, and several hummingbirds buzzed around Myth’s head as she followed Arvel deeper and deeper into the gardens.
“It wasn’t this bad when my brothers and I were children,” Arvel said. “And even once I was older, Mother wasn’t too interested in me until Father made me his heir. Before then, Benjimir took the brunt of it.”
He slowed to a stroll and peered up at the leafy canopy created by giant trees that stretched their branches out over the path.
“But she got even worse once Benjimir married Gwendafyn. The role of queen has more power than one would think, usually. She can work within the governmental system, but her real power lies in her sway over society. Mother used to run the place…but even though Gwendafyn is only a princess, she’s eclipsed Mother.
That’s really gotten Mother…upset. As she is queen, she should still have all the power and control.
But it seems like she hasn’t realized that if she wasn’t such a harpy, everyone wouldn’t have flocked to Fyn so quickly. ”
“I see.” Myth briefly rubbed her nose, which itched from the heavy floral scent of the yellow and purple blossoms they passed. “That’s going to affect whomever you marry, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Arvel agreed. “No matter who I marry, the courts aren’t going to abandon Gwendafyn’s lead when she successfully saved them from Mother’s clutches.
” He sighed and stopped his forward progress through the gardens.
“Unfortunately, based on the girls who have approached me with very obvious matrimonial goals, I don’t think it’s occurred to them .
” He took refuge under one of the trees and seemed to stare unseeingly at the gurgling stream that trickled along with them.
Myth observed him for a moment, and then shrugged. “No one could hope to compete with My Princess Gwendafyn.” She made the statement with a bit more pride and challenge than she normally would have, in hopes of inspiring a smile or something less serious than the expression Arvel wore currently.
As it was, she was rewarded with a chuckle. “Yes. You are perhaps one of Our Princess’s biggest supporters.”
“She’s My Princess, not yours. And I would not presume to place myself so highly in her lengthy list of admirers.” Myth sniffed for effect.
“She is a princess of both countries.”
“Indeed.”
He shook his head slightly. “Thanks, Myth.”
“Whatever for?”
“For cheering me up.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Myth gave Arvel her best stoic translator look, but was unable to hold it when his smile unfolded.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Arvel asked.
Myth rolled her eyes. “Now you’re getting sentimental.”She was casting around her mind for something hopefully clever to say, when she felt it.
The air changed, again .
She was afraid to look, but almost unwillingly, she turned to peer in his direction.
And there he was, the Prince of Seduction.
His eyes seemed to smolder even in the shade of the trees, and his smile was just the barest twitch of his lips, but his presence filled the area around him, making Myth uncomfortably aware of him.
He took only a step closer to her, leaving plenty of room between them, but Myth swore she could feel the heat he radiated anyway.
Why, why must his body posture change so markedly? That’s the one language I cannot understand!
She just about jumped when Arvel picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.
“No, you really are wonderful, and intelligent, and beautiful.” He hadn’t released or lowered her hand, so his lips brushed her skin every time he spoke.
“Um.”Myth tried to give her mind a good kick in hopes of rekindling her intelligence—which would apparently leave her disoriented at the sight of a pretty face.
Naturally. I couldn’t be a smooth and controlled elf. Goodness, no. Too advantageous for a peasant like mewhen working with princes!
Myth squeaked, and even her internal thoughts went up several octaves when Arvel switched his grip so their fingers were now intertwined. “W-what?” she stammered.
The Prince of Seduction rubbed the top of her hand with the pads of his fingers. “We’ve got work waiting for us in the study. We’d better go,” he purred.
Myth finally found her voice. “No, no, no—no, no.” Despite her words, she let Arvel pull her along by their clasped hands, their shoulders brushing every other step. “This is—people will get the wrong idea.”
“And what idea is that?” Arvel innocently asked.
“That we are involved!” Myth hissed.
“Oh.” Arvel paused and nodded. “I see. Yes, you are right. We can’t have people thinking that.
” He still hadn’t lost his Prince of Seduction aura—Myth’s hands were rapidly warming and heading alarmingly toward sweating as he still hadn’t released her.
She looked up at him with suspicion instead of relief at his words.
As such, she only bulged her eyes when he smiled down at her. “We’re only at the point where I’m trying to sway you into being involved with me.”
“ Arvel !”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes!”
“A creepy uncomfortable?”
Under his intense gaze, Myth sucked her neck into her shoulders. “No,” she mumbled in hopes that he wouldn’t hear.
“Perfect,” the Prince of Seduction said with great satisfaction.
He leaned in close, hovering just close enough to her so he wasn’t touching, but if she made even the tiniest movement, they’d brush.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you before, but you are a confounding combination of cool beauty and entrancing warmth. ”
I’m going to die, Myth realized. Like this. My heart can’t take… him , and so it will just stop. It will be the most embarrassingrecorded death ever. Here lies Mythlan, daughter of Wylorym and Lusana. Her heart was overcome by a handsome human, and she DIED !
Myth cleared her throat.“You seem…overcome. Perhaps you are hungry and we should call for some tea for you.”
The Prince of Seduction chuckled and let go of her hand, only to raise his fingers and brush Myth’s jawline. “What if I said I was hungry, but not for food?”