Chapter 18 #4
“Yes,” Myth firmly said. “It is always a pleasure to see you.”
Princess Gwendafyn smirked, resembling her husband with the expression. “I’m not sure I believe you, Myth. Ahh, but I am here to congratulate you regardless. Both of you, that is.” She bowed first to Arvel and then to Myth. “You have my eternal thanks.”
“My Princess.” Myth bowed, just on principle—because someone she esteemed as much as Princess Gwendafyn should never lower herself to Myth in this way. “I only followed my role as translator. I have done nothing praiseworthy.”
“That’s not how I hear it.” Princess Gwendafyn glanced at Arvel when he joined them. “However, I am not here to argue over semantics, but rather express my genuine thankfulness.”
Arvel tilted his head. “Why is that?”
Princess Gwendafyn’s eyes flashed and her fingers brushed the scabbard of her sword.
“Queen Luciee has been inordinately spiteful to Benjimir—to all of you princes, really. I am thankful you have finally broken her power once and for all. With this, I hope she will no longer spew such false lies to you.”
Arvel shrugged. “If she does, we can finally tell her to muzzle herself. She can’t threaten to retaliate and has no way of punishing us any longer.”
“Yes.” Princess Gwendafyn smiled wolfishly. “Which is why this is such a wonderful day. I hope you two plan to celebrate?”
“I think the whole family will,” Arvel said.
Princess Gwendafyn grimaced. “It makes me sorry that such a celebration is warranted. But I am glad, nonetheless, that you have finally broken the Fultons’ power. Congratulations to both of you.”
Princess Gwendafyn looked like she was going to bow again, so Myth preemptively bowed. “It was my honor, My Princess Gwendafyn.”
Princess Gwendafyn turned around to speak to the man behind her. “Ready, Wulf?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed slightly to her, then more deeply to Arvel and Myth. “Your Royal Highness, Lady Translator.”
Together the two swept from the room, their steps accented by the clinking of armor.
Myth frowned slightly as she watched them go. “I seem to be collecting a wide variety of incorrect titles.”
“Consider it destiny,” Arvel suggested as he edged closer.
“Destiny? We must have a different definition of the word,” Myth mused. She could hear more voices in the hallway from the open parlor doors, so she sidled away from the crown prince.
“If something is destined, it means it’s going to happen,” Arvel said. “What does it mean in Elvish?”
“Work—or an object—your family or brethren inflict upon you—whether you want it or not.”
“Yes, that’s pretty different, although in this case it might be the better usage.” He took a giant step toward her, but at that moment Prince Benjimir blew into the parlor, and—judging by the booming laughter echoing in the hallway—King Petyrr wasn’t far behind.
“Brother, and Translator Mythlan, please allow me to offer my congratulations.” Prince Benjimir smirked.
Arvel rolled his eyes. “Now I know you’re coordinating,” he grumbled.
Myth, judging that she had been momentarily forgotten, tried to edge away as unobtrusively as possible.
“Gwendafyn isn’t, but I may be,” Prince Benjimir said.
“ Why ?”
Myth had made it halfway to the door whenPrince Benjimir prodded Arvel in the side. “One for every single time you goaded me about being Gwendafyn’s bond partner during the first six months of our marriage.”
“You are petty.”
“Indeed, which is why I’m going to ask where you’re running off to, Translator Myth?” Prince Benjimir asked.
Myth, on the brink of making her escape, twirled around and pasted a professional smile on her face. “I thought to give you two a moment of privacy—which surely must be required for a meeting between such close brothers.”
“Nonsense,” Prince Benjimir said. “You have to come with us to greet Father. He’s pleased to bits with all the work you and your fellow translators have done and wishes to thank you. Personally .”
“It’s really not necessary,” Myth said.
“But it is. Come along—the both of you. We ought to go to Father before he squeezes someone to death with those jubilant hugs he’s giving out. This way—no, Arvel, you can’t shuffle off with her and escape this.”
“You’re overbearing.”
“And you are ever so deserving of every moment of this. Come.”
* * *
“I’m stuffed—I overate.” Arvel lifted his hands above his head and groaned.
Myth glanced at him, a smile budding at her lips. “Rather, I think you ate too fast.”
Arvel grimaced. “Perhaps—no, certainly. But Mother kept trying to talk to me, which means she wants something. She’s probably hoping she can talk me into telling Father to soften the punishment on the Fultons—which will never happen.” He glanced at her. “But you hardly ate at all.”
Now it was Myth’s turn to grimace. Although the food at the luncheon was delicious, she had spent most of the unwanted honor avoiding eye contact with everyone seated at the table.
“I’m your translator,” she reminded him.
“I shouldn’t be eating at a luncheon meant solely for the royal families of Calnor and Lessa at all . ”
“Pft!”
“Translator Rollo didn’t eat,” Myth pointed out.
“Translator Rollo didn’t single-handedly save an entire investigation that let us give the Fultons the set down they deserve.”
Myth rolled her eyes. “It was still inappropriate.”
“Yes, well, you didn’t have the guts to tell Father that, so I’m going to forcefully interpret it as an event you would happily repeat.”
“I tried to say something, but I was ignored!”
“Run over is the phrase you’re searching for, I believe.” Arvel winked at Myth, then twisted to address Thad and the squad of soldiers trailing behind him. “Isn’t that right, Captain Thad?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Royal Highness,” Thad politely said.
Arvel rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to back me up, Captain Thad. You know, loyalty and all of that.”
“I am married to an elf, My Lord,” Thad reminded him. “Loyalty and all of that.”
“I see how it is.” Arvel laughed and gestured for Myth to follow him when they turned up a different hall. “We’re going back to my study, so we’ll take a shortcut through the Celebration Hall.”
“I thought this afternoon you were slated to continue to work on the investigation into the fires?”
“Not for another hour or so. There’s some work I’d like to finish before we trot down to the library—I think your friend is one of the wizards on the restoration team, so you should be able to see her,” Arvel said.
Myth tugged on the sleeve of her jacket, smoothing a wrinkle. “She had mentioned she volunteered.”
Blaise had also mentioned Wizard Edvin had blithely agreed, but the rest of the wizards on the restoration team had instantly gotten suspicious. Blaise complained they watched her with such scrutiny that she and Wizard Edvin were the only ones getting much of anything done.
Myth smiled at the thought, her heart lighter than it had been since the fire in the library.
Only a week had passed since the Fultons were judged, but it felt like a blissful month instead.
Arvel was still deep in his investigation into the fires, but Myth was no longer dreaming of copying out ledgers and trade records at night, and most of the socials Arvel attended took on a lighter feeling without Queen Luciee icily glaring her disapproval.
“Are you sure you’re fine with returning to the library this afternoon?” Arvel asked.
“Yes. Seeing it yesterday was reassuring, in a way. It wasn’t as damaged as it seemed at the time of the fire—though I’m still sorry for the ancient banners and tapestries that were lost.”
“As am I,” Arvel said. “But we can restore it and rebuild it.” The smile he gave Myth was gentler and more caressing than his usual bright grin. “The relationship between Lessa and Calnor has changed. The library will always be a symbol of our relationship, but we’re better now.”
“Yes.”
They were almost to the doors of the Celebration Hall when a servant bearing a sealed message trotted up behind them. “Captain Thad?”
“Yes?” Thad held up his hand to stop his men.
“I have a letter here for you.”
Thad stiffened. “From Evlawyn?”
“I dunno, Sir.”
Myth watched Thad open the letter as Arvel pushed open the hall doors.
Thad glanced over the letter, and his brow wrinkled in confusion. “It doesn’t say anything.”
Myth and Arvel, standing on the threshold of the Celebration Hall, frowned.
“What?” Arvel took a step toward Thad.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get any farther.