The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,15

picked up a stack of papers and made his way to the bookshelves.

“You are too kind, Your Highness.” Myth fidgeted with her hands—she didn’t know what to do with them or what kind of protocol was required, and it was making her nervous. Her gaze strayed to the bookshelves, and she wondered how one who frequented the library so often came to have so few books.

Or perhaps that is why he frequents the library? You can see the library entrance from his doorway, after all.

“Ah,” Arvel chuckled. “Wondering why the shelves are empty?”

Myth guiltily peeled her eyes from the shelves and ducked her head. “My apologies.”

“No, no. It’s understandable. I used to keep these shelves packed. Unfortunately, I had to move all my favorites to my private quarters.” Arvel made a face. “My brother, Benjimir, got into the habit of stealing my books whenever I annoy him. He suggested I could stop baiting him, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, I resort to hiding my books in less dignified places.” Arvel’s lips were curved in a fond smile, and he stared expectantly at Myth.

Oh. He wants a reply.

“Is Your Royal Highness close to Prince Benjimir?” Myth asked, hoping the question wouldn’t be viewed as prying.

She was rewarded with his smile brightening into a grin. “Pretty close, yes. We work together a lot, which helps. He still helps with the Honor Guards and is also responsible for most of the army now—which he can have!” He shook his head a little and put another stack of papers on his sparsely populated bookshelves.

It seemed to Myth that Arvel had a thoughtful personality and was quick to laugh, even at himself. This boded well for her—even if she was at her most diligent, her ignorance would create mistakes. He, thankfully, seemed like he wouldn’t mind if she occasionally mispronounced a title. (Although she was going to do her best to avoid errors.)

“Do you read and write in Calnoric?” Crown Prince Arvel asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“I am not yet skilled at it,” Myth automatically replied with the elven saying of humility, as was custom. She wasn’t perfect, after all, so there was no way she could claim skill at it even with all the work she did.

“I see. Well, no worries! I have trade translators who help me with that sort of thing.” Crown Prince Arvel pushed a few end tables into a corner and stacked them, opening up floor space. “Regardless, I look forward to working with you. I hope you enjoy your time as a social translator—since Rollo said you are actually a trade translator?”

“Trade translation work is my area of study, yes,” Myth confirmed. “But I shall serve you to the best of my ability, and seek to improve my understanding so that I might complete my work.”

Arvel’s grin was warm like sunshine, and it transformed his classic good looks into something inviting and more charming rather than just picturesque. “We’ll have fun together,” he said. “I promise.”

Thankfully, Myth’s first evening as the crown prince’s translator passed without any mortification. Blessedly, Crown Prince Arvel had several days that lacked any type of social engagement at all, making Myth’s transition as his translator easier than she expected. A part of her suspected this might be by design—the prince appeared to be spontaneously charming, but she was starting to think it was actually a result of careful observations, in the same way he’d known her from the library. But she wasn’t yet certain.

Regardless, she was thankful for his empty schedule, and—despite her disappointment in pausing her studies as a trade apprentice—was coming to enjoy the work.

As they walked down the hallway together in the early afternoon hours, having just left the library and veering back to Arvel’s office, Myth was daring enough to feel satisfied.

She’d just spent the past two hours translating for Crown Prince Arvel and the elf librarian who was on duty while they conversed about elven imports, and the impact the increased presence of elven nobility in Haven would have on the countries’ economies. Even more exciting, she’d had the time to find two books that contained in-depth studies on Calnorian culture and were written by elven scholars, and an additional mathematics book that looked at various ways to calculate ledgers—which would be useful to know once she was made a trade translator.

“You seem pleased with your books,” Arvel observed as he walked at her side.

Mythlan, the books happily tucked against her sides, nodded. “I have never been granted