Chapter 15 #2
“I want to thank you again for being willing to retrieve these records.” Arvel rested his hand on one of the two black, leather-bound books.
“I don’t know how we could have done it without you.
And it was incredibly brave of you to salvage them—particularly when this matter doesn’t have anything to do with you. ”
Myth drummed up a smile. “I’m glad I could bring them. Though I will confess, I was terrified most of the time.”
“Really? Thad said you were such a smooth operator he was tempted to give your name to the Department of Investigation. And Arion said you handled yourself admirably when you handed the books off.”
Shestared at one of the trays of refreshments as she recalled her stuttering heartbeat.
“It pleases me to hear neither Sir Arion nor his men realized how frightened I was. But in the end, I am glad you can use those records.” She paused, and twisted to look inquiringly at Arvel. “You can use them, yes?”
“Absolutely,” Arvel assured her. “I already have enough copied down to give Father a reason to investigate the Fulton town house and their family home on Fulton lands. It’s over for Uncle Julyan—and as a result Mother’s power will be greatly limited as well, since she was always the one who submitted their trade requests and used her position to demand changes to their orders. ”
Myth studied him, trying to gaugehis feelings based on the set of his mouth and the slant of his brows, but he merely seemed…tired. “How are you dealing with this?”
“I don’t know quite what you mean?”
“This is your mother’s family. They have wronged you, but you have a valiantsoul.”
He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. “Does that mean something special?”
“It means that the foul actions of others cause you pain, because you know they’re wrong.”
Arvel laughed and let his head drop back on his neck so he stared up at the ceiling. “It is astounding how well you know me.”
“It is the bond caused by pulling all-nighters,” Myth dryly said.
“It does hurt,” he admitted. “Because I still love my mother, no matter how poisonousshe can be.”
Fleetingly, Myth thought of her own, absentee Father.
When she had arrived in Haven after her mother’s death, scared and sorrowful, he had given her the choice to join either the Translators’ Circle, or the Enchanters’ Guild.
He didn’t take the time to grieve the loss of her mother with her—to remember her life and cherish her memories.
Rather he had stiffly and politely dealt with Myth as if she was a stranger.
Since then, she had lived as a student of the Translators’ Circle and only seen him fleetingly.
But even though he only looked upon her with cold detachment, a tiny part of Myth still loved him, and still grieved their relationship that never was.
“I think I can understand a little.” She pressed her lips together and glanced at Arvel. “But you know she is wrong, yes?”
“In her conduct? Of course. She must face consequences for her dishonorable actions and—”
“That’s not what I meant.” It was only because it was Arvel that Myth dared to interrupt.
“Then what are you referring to?”
“The hurtful things she spews at you—they are lies.” Myth met Arvel’s gaze.
“You will make an excellent king, and already you are a wonderful crown prince. Not because of your bloodline or who your parents are, but because you’re intelligent, diligent, and valiant.
You do what is right . Queen Luciee does whatever best suits her.
She can’t understand you and your motives, and she hates your actions because they reveal her for the shallow, terrible creature that she is. ”
Silence filled the dining hall for several moments—not an uncomfortable silence, but rather a contemplative quietness.
Arvel stared at her during those serene moments. Something that could have passed for a smile played at his lips, but there was a certain amount of pain that bled through as well, making it a smile of the heart more than one of mirth.
“Thank you, Myth,” he said abruptly. “It means a lot to me that you believe that. Because it’s you, I know you’re speaking the truth and not just being nice.” His pained smile became more of a grin. “Although I’ll spare myself the embarrassment of asking if I rank above Fyn yet.”
“You don’t,” Myth, judging the prince wanted humor at the moment, emphatically said, changing the tone of the conversation.
“Ouch.” Arvel slapped both of his hands over his chest. “Did you have to be quite that truthful?”
Myth copied one of her professors and looked down her nose at Arvel in play bravado. “As I have said before, Your Royal Highness . You aren’t my prince!”
Arvel chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “You never were particularly impressed with my title. You’ve been more worried about making a mistake in your translations than bowing and scraping to me.”
“I am employed as your translator, not your personal valet,” Myth sourly said. “Of course I’m going to be more concerned about making a translation mistake that might possibly affect the social and political world!”
“That’s right…you don’t care about my title.” Arvel spoke almost distractedly as he stared at Myth. “You never have…it’s always been about your role.”
She was tempted to sink deeper into her chair—this kind of intense focus reminded her a little too much of the Prince of Seduction.
She chose to fill the air with chatter rather than give Arvel the mental peace to make the switch.
“I looked down on social translators as a student—I thought it was an easier and flashier choice,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard Arvel.
“I was so wrong. Do you have any idea how many books on customs and manners I’ve had to read in the past few weeks?
It’s mind boggling how you Calnorians choose to be so fussy in the way people of different genders and stations must present themselves! ”
“And yet you chose to read more rather than ask a senior translator,” Arvel reminded her, humor returning to his eyes.
“Senior translators don’t have time to waste on the likes of me,” Myth gloomily said.
Arvel had started to peer down at the logbook—which highly gratified Myth. But at that statement, he narrowed his eyes and returned to his intense scrutiny of her. “Pardon?”
Myth studied him carefully, taking in his body language—which was relaxed but steady. She didn’t see any sign of Him , but she still chose her words carefully. “The other translators are busy. They should not be bothered.”
“Rollo invited you to ask him any questions. He wouldn’t consider it a bother.”
“Perhaps,” Myth said, unconvinced. “But he has important work to do. It will only take me a few extra minutes to look it up—or, better yet, prepare in advance by reading on topics I need to shore up on.”
“It has not escaped me that you are very reluctant to ask for any help at all,” Arvel dryly said.
Myth shrugged. “It is very rare that people genuinely wish to help each other—it’s partially what makes youa rare type of person, Arvel.”
“No, you aren’t going to distract me with more praises, even if you’re being sincere. Do you reallybelieve that people are reluctant to help each other?”
Myth paused. “Well…perhaps not…but they don’t want me to bother them, even if they say they do.”
“And how did you come to believe that?”
Because all my life I have only faced disinterest? From not only my father, but my teachers and instructors who never saw me as an individual but rather one of a class in which most of the students would fail and drop out.
Myth didn’t know how to say that, however, without coming across as needy or judgmental.
She had accepted indifference a long time ago. It was the reason for her determination to make it as a trade translator and, she’d come to realize, it was perhaps why she enjoyed working for Arvel even if it wasn’t the type of work she had wanted.
Foolishly, taking the time to try to choose her words had so deeply distracted her that she didn’t realize Arvel had moved until he stood next to her chair.
She felt his presence so keenly, it made her afraid to look up.
“I suppose the most important thing isn’t identifying whyyou believe others don’t want you to ask for help,” Arvel said in a voice that was a touch lower than usual. “But rather that you know I would drop anything to help you.”
Oh, no. Oh no. OH NO!