Chapter 20 #3
King Petyrr watched Benjimir mount up and lead the massive military escort as they started to file out of the palace grounds, marching toward the main gates that divided the palace from the rest of Haven.
“This shouldn’t have been your burden. You shouldn’t have had to muzzle your own family, and sentence your own mother like that.
” He sighed, and for once his jolly smile was gone, giving Arvel a rare glimpse at the incredibly intelligent man hidden behind the laughter and happy shouts.
His eyes were troubled as he peered up at Arvel.
“But I was overly optimistic…and as a result you had to clean up my mess for me.”
Arvel glanced behind them—Myth, Rollo, and all of King Petyrr’s aides and usual procession stood back far enough that they wouldn’t hear this quiet conversation. “You’re referring to Mother and the Fultons?”
“Yes. I knew when I married her that Julyan had… ambitions , and that she’d toss aside just about anything to help him.
But when we had you and your brothers, I’d hoped she’d change, or at least not do anything illegal.
I let her have run of the court because I frankly don’t care what noble has hurt feelings, and I thought that would be enough.
” The smile lines around King Petyrr’s mouth and eyes seemed deeper, and made him look older, unlike his usual good cheer.
“It wasn’t. I was too optimistic, too hopeful to stop her and Julyan before it became too much. I’m sorry.”
Arvel thought for a moment. “You can’t apologize for Mother’s decisions—or Uncle Julyan’s conduct. They made their own choices.”
“Perhaps, but as king it is my role to do what is best for my people—and that includes you, Benjimir, Peregrine, and Vincent. And I failed you all.” King Petyrr rested his thumbs on his sword belt and watched Queen Luciee’s carriage disappear through the gates.
Arvel stood with him, any words refusing to come.
I know Father is a good king—an excellent king. He’s brought so much prosperity to Calnor…but I think Mother’s actions hurt him more than they hurt me. And I don’t know that I can say anything to lessen that pain.
“You’ll be a good king, Arvel. The way you handled the Fultons proves you were the right choice to name as my heir.
” King Petyrr nodded several times, then glanced at Arvel again.
“But because you’re going to be a good sort of king, there will be a few times when you’ll be tempted to do what you believe is right for the country instead of what’s right for you.
Mark my words, lad. Marry for love. Because any woman who loves you—not as the future king, but for yourself—will love our country, and she’ll be just the sort of queen you need, no matter her station or lineage. ”
Arvel rapidly blinked, shocked by King Petyrr’s words. He risked glancing back at Myth, placidly standing next to Rollo—who hadn’t stopped talking ever since Benjimir and Gwendafyn had made their exit. Does he know? I haven’t tried to hide it, but I didn’t think he’d notice…
“Father, are you saying…?”
King Petyrr met Arvel’s gaze, his expression giving nothing away.
He nodded once, then his face bloomed into his usual hearty smile.
“And you’d best find love soon , lad! Another wonderful daughter-in-law to add to the family, and then maybe Gwendafyn and Benjimir will finally settle down long enough to give me a few blessed grandchildren.
” He smiled dreamily, then slapped Arvel with enough force to make him stagger.
Arvel coughed as King Petyrr laughed.
“I’m off to find Celrin and Firea—best let them know Luciee is gone. Good luck, my boy!” A wink, and King Petyrr was off. Rollo, his aides, and a few guards ran to catch up with him as he marched up the tall staircase.
Arvel shook his head as he watched his father trundle away.
“Is everything all right?”
Arvel swung around and smiled for an entirely different reason when he found Myth standing next to him.
She was impeccably dressed with her pristine jacket, crisply pressed shirt, and smooth breeches. Her silvery hair—still pulled back into a ponytail—swayed in the breeze, and she glanced worriedly from Arvel to King Petyrr.
Yes. She’ll make a fantastic queen.
He had loved Myth for a while, now. But every day in the nightmare that was the Fultons had shown him a new way he loved her.
She was concerned about him—not as the crown prince, but as her friend. She was fearless, diligent, and she hadn’t shied away when he’d revealed the ugly side of his family to her.
But how am I going to convince her to marry me?
“Arvel?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
“Everything is great.” Arvel grinned at her. “And it’s only going to get better.”
* * *
Three days after they had seen Queen Luciee off, Myth sat at her table and carefully studied Arvel.
It was night. The hour of dinner had already passed—Myth had gone off and eaten, but Arvel remained behind. She’d come back to check on him, and was surprised to find him still working.
What could possibly have him pulling these late hours? She glanced outside, where dusk was settling in the sky and casting a gray light over the gardens.
She still hadn’t told him how she felt—she suspected he needed more time to process all that had happened.
This…overworking seemed to prove her suspicions, even if a tiny voice in her wondered if she was doing exactly what Princess Gwendafyn and Lady Tari had said not to do and was hiding behind the potential embarrassment.
“The Fulton investigation is over.” Myth’s voice broke the stillness of his study as they were the only two inside—Arvel’s designated guards all stood outside in the hallway.
Arvel finally looked up from his work and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, what was that?”
“The Fulton investigation is over,” she repeated.
“Yes. And?”
Myth tapped her finger on his desk. “Why, then, are you still working?”
Arvel leaned back in his chair and had the grace to look uncomfortable.
“Is there a new, more pressing project King Petyrr gave you that I am unaware of?” Myth asked.
“No.”
“Another investigation, perhaps?”
“No.”
“Then why? No, Arvel, hear me out. Why are you still working at this hour?” Myth stood up so she could slap her palms on his desk and lean over it. “You work like a man possessed. Something must be bothering you.”
Arvel opened and closed his mouth a few times, then laughed. “It seems I can’t keep a secret from you.”
Myth watched him with narrowed eyes. “Is it your mother?”
“What? Heavens— no !”
“You’re not feeling guilty for exiling her?”
Arvel puffed his cheeks out with the power of his exhale. “I didn’t enjoy it, but no, I don’t feel guilty. It was a verdict she deserved.”
“Fine, then what is bothering you?” Myth asked.
Arvel stared at his desk. “I guess I’m just trying to avoid some things. I thought I could keep putting them off…because I don’t know that I could face the consequences right now.”
Myth furrowed her brow, her heart aching as she studied the prince.
He looks…exhausted. He’s been through so much, and to have something new weighing him down? It must be related to his position. Oh—I hope he’s not thinking of marriage candidates. Although I suppose, with Luciee stripped of her rank, he’ll likely need to marry soon to fill the power gap…
That made the pending discussion even less enjoyable to take part in, but to Myth, loving meant doing what was best for the recipient of her love. Even if it meant pain for herself. She cleared her throat and smiled gently. “Can’t it wait?”
Arvel looked up at her, horrified. “Can’t it wait?” he repeated. “No—this isn’t just…no!”
“Then what must we do so you are not so driven to kill yourself with work?” Myth asked.
Arvel stared at her so long, Myth self-consciously shifted in place.
“All right,” he said abruptly. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Myth nodded. “Do what?”
Arvel stood and walked around his desk. “Myth?”
“Yes?”
He stopped just in front of her and clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re dismissed from your position.”
Myth’s mouth slackened, and she blinked very slowly. “I beg your pardon?”
“You will no longer fill the role of my social translator.”
Shock, hurt, and disbelief vied for Myth’s attention, but she made her voice bland so she could speak without crying. “May I inquire why I have been dismissed?”
“Yes. Because I love you.”
Apparently, it was possible for Myth to be shocked even farther. “Y-you what ?”
“I love you,” he repeated. “And every day—no—every hour we’ve worked together I’ve fallen deeper in love with you.”
Myth was still imitating a fish on land and found that she couldn’t answer.
Arvel didn’t seem to mind, his words pouring out in a beautiful storm.
“I never told you why I asked Father to assign you to me as my translator. It was quite selfish of me, but it’s because I thought you were beautiful.
But since then I got to know—got to love you—and I know I don’t want a future without you in it.
I don’t want a life where you’re not with me.
Not standing behind me as my translator, but at my side .
” He nervously lifted his hands up over his head, clasping them at his neck.
“But, as you like to remind me, even though I knew you were my trusted friend, you work for my family. And I never wanted to put you into a spot where you felt you couldn’t be honest, so I’m dismissing you.
Because then you can give me the answer you want. ”
He pressed his lips together and watched her with great anxiety.
Myth, however, was finding that for all her language skills, somehow, she still couldn’t use the right words. “I’m…that is to say…”
“Yes?” Arvel dropped his arms and looked afraid to hope.
Speak the words you already know: I love you too! I can’t keep standing here with my jaw hanging open! He’ll get the wrong impression!
Sure enough, as Myth gaped at Arvel, he was looking more and more downcast.
SPEAK!