The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,2
to the top book on her pile to keep it from sliding off as she abruptly checked her pace.
When she saw the tall body that filled the doorway, she leaned back in surprise, getting a book spine to the rib.
An elf enchanter stepped out of the trade workshop, his long blond hair pulled back in a loose plait. Time, as it did for all Lesser Elves, hadn’t left much of an imprint on him—a few thin wrinkles on his forehead, though some of his pale blond hair was threaded with gray.
Even though enchanters didn’t commonly frequent the Translators’ Circle, Myth knew him.
He was one of the senior enchanters…and was Myth’s father.
He glanced at her, taking in the way she fumbled with her books, and nodded.
No greeting, no exchange of words; he didn’t even wait for her to bow her head in return. He swept off, focused on his own business as Myth expected.
Her father had always been more apathetic toward her existence than anything else. At best he could be described as…distant.
He is what he has always been, Myth briskly reminded herself.
It’d been years since her father’s actions had caused her any kind of pain.
Myth stepped into the trade workshop and couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her lips.
The bustle of translators moving from desk to desk was as hushed and quiet as the scratch of the numerous quill pens moving across paper.
Moving swiftly so she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way, Myth made her way to the tables where she would unload her treasured burden.
Here, as a trade translator, she’d have a place. She’d be one of the men and women who worked together to keep trade open between Lessa and Calnor. Once she graduated from apprentice to translator, she’d join in the well-rehearsed dance the workshop followed as the translators copied logs, recorded orders, and sent off messengers.
Just seeing the workshop renewed Myth’s determination to make her goal.
I should fit in another study session tonight at the Library of Haven after my shift. I could use the practice in copying out more Calnoric.
She set the books down, then dashed through the workshop, making her way to the senior translator who needed to be informed of the books’ arrival. She slipped unseen past a gaggle of translators discussing a recent trade order, and smiled at a harried student who was retrieving an abacus for a senior translator.
Yes, this was where Myth belonged. She just had to prove herself with a great deal of work and diligence, but there was no place she’d rather be.
Recalling the conversation between the three senior translators, she shivered in revulsion.
One thing I can be sure of, I am so very grateful I chose to be a trade translator. With all the delicate customs and emotional undertones required for social translating, it sounds miserable.
Miserable was an understatement—it sounded wretched. She preferred numbers and figures any day, even with all the extra studying.
Myth stopped in front of a senior translator’s desk, and as she waited for his acknowledgment, she concluded that she was glad she would never, ever be asked to serve as a social translator.
Arvel kept his smile in place as he purposefully strode through the Celebration Hall. That was the trick—to keep moving at a swift pace so people would assume he was going somewhere. Because if he stopped, the crowds would close in on him in a second.
Arvel made it to the far wall. He was so close to an exit, he could feel the cool breeze that slipped in through the open door.
Almost there…
He turned in a circle, his eyes scanning the crowds as if he were searching for someone. And he was—his mother. But not because he wanted to speak with her. He wanted to make sure she was occupied so when he left she wouldn’t notice and send a servant racing after him to verbally drag him back.
Since he’d become the crown prince, his peaceful days of dodging whatever social events he wanted to were over. He wasn’t entirely sure of the tradeoff. He hadn’t wanted to be the crown prince, and he didn’t believe for a second his father’s vows that he was the best choice due to his passion for economics and general love of learning. But his eldest brother had turned the position down flat, and his younger brothers had no interest in ruling. So now he was the heir.
Arvel smiled at a gruff knight, who bowed to him. “Your Highness.”
“Good evening.” Arvel kept on smiling as