The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,23
I marry. Mother wants me to wed someone who will secure her power since Gwendafyn hasn’t just rocked the boat, she’s turned the whole thing upside down. Whether Mother accomplishes that by pushing a girl who is especially biddable or beholden to her, or a girl whose family is in a political alliance with the Fultons, I don’t think she cares.”
Myth shook her head. “I restate my previous sentiment, Arvel. There is no need to keep on apologizing. You are not culpable for the childish, harsh, asinine—”
Arvel burst into gusts of laughter again, but Myth ignored it and kept going.
“—and wicked things your mother inflicts on you. What a festering vulture! No, vultures have their place in the world. She’s a blood-sucking leech!”
Arvel’s shoulders shook in his laughter, and he gasped for air. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”
Myth patiently waited as he broke into another burst.
It wasn’t until he laughed so hard he nearly choked that the crown prince’s laughter subsided enough to tell her. “It’s just that you’re this elegant, beautiful elf. And you just blurted out some of the harshest truths I’ve ever heard anyone speak about Mother. Ever!”
He was more relaxed, now. His grin was almost lopsided, and his posture was more languid than rigid. “I never imagined an elf would have it in them to so bluntly shred someone with words.”
Myth cleared her throat and settled her hands on her black belt. “Perhaps. It is likely that you merely have been exposed to elves who don’t know the more blunt—as you called them—words. We elves do argue and occasionally shout at each other, despite what you may believe.”
“Am I to believe that means there is a ‘Words to Express Your Disgust’ course in the Translators’ Circle?”
“Not at all,” Myth said. “My closest friend is a wizard. I have had a very…liberal education of words with her around.”
“I see. Thank you, Myth.”
Myth narrowed her eyes. “Arvel. What have I been saying for the past few minutes?”
“No, no. This time I really do owe you my thanks.” His smile dimmed into something that was almost rueful. “No one has been so refreshingly honest in their assessment of Mother before. Everyone dances around it without outright calling out her hard-hearted behavior.” He paused. “It was…freeing to hear you speak words similar to my own feelings.”
In that moment, Myth’s heart squeezed for the crown prince.
How terrible it would be—to be treated this way by your own mother.
Father hasn’t been much of a parent, but he’s only distant and perhaps negligent. I cannot fathom what could drive a person to so pervasively act against their child’s interest—and to punish them in this sort of way.
Myth pressed her lips together and was once again thankful for her decision to become a trade translator. If I had to translate for that foul woman, I’d quit. No career is worth working with such wickedness.
“Has no one truly empathized with you about Queen Luciee’s…behavior?” Myth asked.
“My brothers do, so do my sisters-in-law.” Arvel pushed the window open a little farther and stuck his head outside. “But I’ve been the lucky recipient of all her attention these days because of my title. That and Benjimir is beyond her power now—Gwendafyn just about flipped a table the last time Mother dared insult him in front of her. And my two younger brothers are both out of the country right now. It isn’t always this bad.”
Myth’s heart ached again for the Calnorian prince, but she didn’t know what to do or say. If he were an elf, she’d hug him or hold his hand or some such thing—elves were a much more affectionate culture than humans.
But the only affectionate gesture she knew of that originated in Calnor was a smack on the back. That didn’t seem entirely appropriate at the moment, and Myth wasn’t certain if that was a male-limited expression of affection, or if it was common among females.
I need to study more…
Arvel saved her from having to decide.
He abruptly straightened up. “We ought to finish our tea while it’s hot—and I should get back to adding up the numbers. As long as I wax on about my troubles I’m just keeping you here extra long.”
He walked back to his desk, but Myth stayed by the windows a few moments longer. “Troubles as painful as this need to be verbalized, or they’ll fester within you. You need someone to confirm that this is wrong—Queen Luciee is wrong.” She hesitated, then added, “This is not a trivial matter.”
The pull