The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,17
moment, my greatest concern. Please consider allowing a small squad of Honor Guards to follow you.”
“But you aren’t going to deny the Fultons are the greatest threat?”
Myth peeked up in time to see Sir Arion gravely meet the crown prince’s gaze. “No. They are the reason why I have come before you today.” He paused, then added, “I have already informed the Commanding General of the situation.”
“Oh? What did Benjimir have to say about it?”
“Nothing suited for polite company. It is sufficient to say he is also keeping an eye on the Fultons.”
A deep sigh leaked out of Crown Prince Arvel. “At least we’re all on the same page.”
“Then you agree to the placement of Honor Guards?”
“Not hardly.”
“Your. Highness,” Sir Arion said with dangerous patience.
“I know it’s a risk, but it’s a calculated one,” Arvel said. “I haven’t annoyed the Fultons enough yet, and they certainly don’t fear me the way they are scared of Benjimir or Gwendafyn. I estimate I’m safe for another season or so.”
“Your life isn’t something to risk over an estimation.”
“Not normally,” the crown prince agreed. “Except this is my last chance of freedom. The nobles haven’t stopped pandering to Father—they know I’m unimportant. The worst I get is women chasing after my title. I can still slip out of socials, still walk through the palace unaccounted. As soon as I get the Honor Guards, that will remind everyone who I am, and what I will become. Everything will change, then.”
Myth, turning another page in the book she was barely reading, frowned on behalf of the prince. He sounded…resigned. How could he talk about his people as if they all only saw his position? Myth had been with him for a short time, and it was obvious between Rollo, the librarian, and the few officials she had met that they esteemed him for his intelligence. She’d even bet that Sir Arion was silent not because of protocol, but because he felt for the prince.
She risked glancing up, and was vindicated to find she was right.
Sir Arion’s brow was furrowed and his stance was still as straight as a board, but the set of his mouth—the slight downturn of his lips—said he regretted the prince’s words.
“You are an excellent crown prince, Arvel,” Sir Arion said. “Better than Benjimir ever was. He was meant to be a general and to protect. You concern yourself with the prosperity of your people and the land.”
Arvel shrugged. “My capabilities don’t really matter as much as what people think. And I’m happy to be underestimated right now. I’ve seen the crowd that revolves around my father. I’m not ready for that.”
Sir Arion narrowed his eyes. “You will need guards eventually.”
“Yes. You’re right. But I still have some time before I need them right now.”
Sir Arion gave Arvel a look Myth interpreted as a promise to start lurking around Arvel’s study.
Arvel must have seen it too, because he hastily added, “Come winter, I’ll agree to some Honor Guards.”
The silence was so heavy, Myth didn’t dare turn a page, even though she’d finished studying the detailed drawing of how to perform a proper curtsy.
“Fine,” Sir Arion growled. “As long as the situation does not change. However, if I discover that your life is in peril, you will get multiple squads assigned to you immediately.”
Arvel flashed a smile, his good humor once again forefront rather than the quiet courteousness he’d been showing Sir Arion. “Understood.”
Sir Arion sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You say you understand, but I am not certain you are taking your wellbeing as seriously as you need to.”
Arvel shrugged. “How are Tari and the children?”
Sir Arion remained for several more minutes, sharing stories of his children—a quiet young boy who, at age four, was as fluent in Elvish as he was Calnoric, an adorable little girl, and a newborn baby boy.
Myth only let herself look up again when Sir Arion bowed to Crown Prince Arvel and said his farewells, bidding Myth a good day on his way out. She glanced up long enough to see him disappear through the doorway, offered Arvel a quick smile, then fixed her attention on her book with renewed fervor.
She was aware that Arvel watched her for several long moments, until she became so interested in her book she no longer noticed, and lost herself to a case study on Calnoric titles.
In the evening hours of the following day, Myth cradled a book in her hands as she made her way through the palace and to the