Chapter 16
M yth’s mind became a chamber of screaming. It was very hard to swallow, and she slowly dared to look up at Arvel, who invaded her personal space and senses just by leaning over her chair.
His hair was dashingly mussed, and there was a slight curve to his right eyebrow as he watched her, the cursed-familiar flickering in his eyes confirming what Myth had guessed.
The Prince of Seduction was here.
Myth’seyes grew wider, and all smooth and even remotely comprehensible thoughts fled her mind. “Ah, um.”
Don’t just stay there—run!
Myth slipped out of her chair, putting herself on the opposite side of it from Arvel.
“That’s…very…kind of you.” She wanted to flee like a frightened rabbit, but she limited herself to a quick, efficient walk that let her escape farther down the table under the pretext of inspecting some of the refreshments.
Arvel—blast him—meandered after her with the comfortable ease of a wolf following its prey. “It’s not kind at all.”
“Isn’t it?” Myth made it around the table and relaxed a little when she was on the opposite side of it from Arvel.
“No,” Arvel said. “I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. My kindness will only go so far. But for those who are important to me, there’s nothing I won’t do. You, Myth, are one of those people.” His blue eyes burned with such intensity, it felt as though he could light her on fire with his gaze.
When he strolled around the end of the table so he was on the same side as Myth again, her brain finally jolted into functioning. She scurried down the long side of the table, peering back over her shoulder to make sure he was still moving more slowly than she was. “I see, but…why?”
“What do you mean, why ?”
Myth paused at the head of the table long enough to pose her question.“Why would you sacrifice like that—for me?”
“Because you’re worth it,” Arvel simply said.
Myth, having made a full circle and reached her chair again, screeched to an abrupt stop, almost knocking into the table. “I’m what?”
“You give without asking, your loyalty is as pure as your heart, and while you’re perfectly lovely, I must admit I find your penchant for hiding in the library and reading books to be indescribably adorable. I thought so even before you were my translator.”
Myth stared at her abandoned chair and felt equal parts embarrassed and beguiled.
She knew they were friends, but she hadn’t noticed he watched her that closely, that he knew her that well.
“And I treasure you because you see me just as I see you,” he continued. “You don’t see my title or my position, and you walk with me. You have no idea how adored you are, how people enjoy it when you translate, because you are that likable.”
Myth pressed her lips together, unable to verbalize what it meant to her to hear that.
She turned to Arvel and practically jumped in her skin when she realized that her contemplations had allowed the prince to close in on her, and now he stood close enough that if she turned just so, she’d brush him.
“T-t-thank you.” Myth rocked a little, feeling ungainly and awkward—a feeling only the Prince of Seduction seemed capable of eliciting in her.
Arvel smiled and leaned so close, their foreheads brushed. “Of course. I live to serve you.”
“I, that is…no you don’t,” Myth floundered.
Arvel’s laugh came from deep within his chest, and to Myth’s fascination—and subsequent horror—she could feel it because sometime without her knowledge her hands came to rest on his chest.
“I could,” he said. “It wouldn’t be a bad exchange if it meant being able to see you this flustered every day.”
“You—but—ahaha—” Myth broke off in a choking noise when Arvel kissed her cheek as lightly and gently as morning dew on a summer day.
He pulled back slightly and studied her. Myth found that despite all the languages she knew, she could only stare up at him with bulging eyes and hope that he was better able to interpret what she wanted than she could convey.
He smiled and leaned in again, this time his lips coming close to hers…
BANG!
The dining room door was unceremoniously thrown open.
Prince Benjimir strode in, his face stormy, his step fast and irritated. He glanced around the dining hall, pausing when he saw Arvel and Myth standing together. “You,” he said.
Arvel groaned and stepped away from Myth—who found she miraculously could breathe again. “Really? You really had to come see me now?”
“You will find me remarkably lacking in sympathy,” Prince Benjimir growled. “I got kicked out of my wife’s bedroom because she insisted I come check on you.”
“I’m not a toddler that needs minding,” Arvel said.
“Of this I am well aware. But Fyn felt it was cruel of me to let you work all night without seeking you out. But it’s just as well. I met up with a messenger trotting her way down here to tell you some troubling news.” Prince Benjimir folded his arms across his chest.
Myth’s embarrassment faded away, and she took a step forward to stand side by side with Arvel. “What is it?” she asked.
“Someone attempted to break into your study, Arvel, and it’s believed the same person had first searched Mythlan’s rooms.” Prince Benjimir glanced at her, concern furrowing his eyebrows.
“The Honor Guards couldn’t tell for certain because they heard nothing, but the window to her bedroom was open, and it hadn’t been when they first took up their posts. ”
Arvel rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Of course. They aren’t going to take this quietly. They’re going to go out of their way to actively make it worse.”
“You said attempted to. Does that mean they weren’t successful in breaking into Arvel’s office?” Myth asked.
“Correct.” Prince Benjimir’s smile was dark and spiteful. “Sir Arion is awake and shoring up our defenses. But I’m calling in an army company of soldiers. If the Fultons make one more move, they’re going to get armed nannies to make them behave. As long as you’re fine with that, Arvel?”
“I initially had hopes that the Fultons would do something stupid and get themselves backed into a corner, but I don’t think that’s a viable plan any longer. If we could make them behave, I’d prefer it,” Arvel said.
“What made you change your mind?” Prince Benjimir asked.
“It’s thatI’m not sure just how much farther they’ll go,” Arvel said.
“Surely Uncle Julyan must be aware that even Mother’s position as queen can’t protect them if he’s actively engaging in treason.
If he’s willing to risk that, I don’t know what else he’ll do, and I won’t risk our people just to trip him up.
” He sighed, then met his brother’s gaze.
“Call in your men. We’re going to make the Fultons heel, even if we have to strong-arm them into it. ”
Prince Benjimir nodded. “Consider it done—I’ll send out a messenger now.
The company should arrive in under two weeks—perhaps one.
Take care, and keep your daggers on you and guards with you at all times.
” He paused at the threshold of the door.
“That includes you, Mythlan. Actually, it especially pertains to you.”
Myth blinked. “You don’t think he’s going to forget about me after Arvel brings formal charges forward?”
“No,” Prince Benjimir said grimly. “I think that stinking rat of our uncle will target you because of Arvel.”
* * *
Rosewood Park was peaceful and calm…the opposite of how Myth felt as she walked with Arvel, His Majesty King Petyrr, and King Celrin.
Although the three royals were smiling and laughing, Myth’s nerves strained with the knowledge that she was the sole translator for King Celrin, given that he and King Petyrr had shooed Rollo away when she and Arvel first approached the monarchs for a mid-morning meeting that had stretched on to include lunch and an afternoon stroll in the gardens.
“You’ve done well, Arvel,” King Celrin said. “You’ve put together a solid case against the Fultons in a very short amount of time; you should be proud.”
“My King Celrin wishes to extend his praise to Arvel.” Myth flicked her hand from King Celrin to Arvel, then bowed slightly, following the conversation’s flow as she had read in her borrowed library books.
She continued on with the translation, keenly aware that all three of the royals watched her as if she was included in the conversation instead of merely translating it.
She couldn’t quite figure out why that was—all the social translators she saw stood at the fringe, murmuring translations when required. And as she was exactly copying her books, she didn’t think it was because she was intrinsically doing anything unspeakably wrong…
King Petyrr laughed and shifted the pug he carried to one arm so he could slap Arvel on the shoulder once Myth finished the translation.
“Celrin is right!I certainly know I’m proud of you!
You’ve acted not only with honor and speed, but great intellect.
You’re righting wrongs that I’ve ignored far too long. ”
“Not at all,” Arvel argued. “I was able to catch the Fultons’ initial transgressions only because you happened to assign me the position of Chief Liaison, and I had the time to review all the paperwork.”
“Ahh yes.” King Petyrr’s usual grin grew. “I happened to, indeed.”
When Myth made the translation, for a moment she thought she saw the light of laughter in King Celrin’s eyes, but it was gone immediately.
Privately, Myth agreed with the two kings’ praise. It had been just a little over a week ago that she had retrieved Lord Julyan’s private records from his home. As Arvel had planned, the following day King Petyrr ordered the Honor Guards to search the Fultons’ town house.
“It’s a shame Julyan was smart enough to destroy most of the paper-trail evidence after you got those two logs of his,” King Petyrr continued. “But it turned out right enough since the fool failed to clean out his storage rooms under the house.”