benefit. And while she managed to appear relatively calm at standing so close to her hero, she was fairly certain her fingers were shaking.
Arvel smirked, and at the natural lull in the conversation, he spoke. “If you’ll excuse my interruption, Fyn, I’d like to introduce you to my translator—Mythlan.”
Myth felt her face burn with a blush as Princess Gwendafyn—and Seer Ringali—turned to face her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mythlan,” Gwendafyn said in Elvish—presumably for Seer Ringali’s benefit.
“It is my honor to speak to you, My Princess Gwendafyn.” Myth bowed deeply.
“Mythlan.” Seer Ringali flicked his fan, and the resulting breeze tickled his dark hair. “Daughter of Wylorym the enchanter?”
7
Myth’s smile froze. “Yes, Seer Ringali.”
Seer Ringali hid the lower half of his face behind his fan and peered at her from over its edge. “Hmmm,” he said.
Myth squared her shoulders and relayed to Arvel as quickly as she could the short conversation.
Arvel glanced curiously at Seer Ringali, but it was to Gwendafyn that he addressed his next comment. “Myth is supposed to help you in social events, too, if Benjimir isn’t around. If you need help, she is your translator.”
Myth rocked a little—shocked by the announcement.
They didn’t tell me I’d be helping Princess Gwendafyn at all. Is Arvel just being nice because he sees how I esteem her?
Myth slapped on a professional smile, although she still had to keep her hands clenched. “I hope I can be of service to you, My Princess,” she said first in Calnoric and then in Elvish.
“Oh, wonderful.” Gwendafyn smiled at Myth with full power. “I was concerned when Father told me Rollo was being reassigned to King Petyrr and him. It eases my mind to know you’ll be available to help. If I attend an event while Ben is out patrolling the countryside or checking in with his soldiers, I always come with Arvel, so I hope it won’t be too much extra work.”
“Never, My Princess.” Myth eagerly shook her head. “It would be my honor to translate for you.” It was only through her determination not to fail at translating that she noticed when Seer Ringali wordlessly drifted away.
“Goodbye, Seer Ringali!” Gwendafyn called after him, then she returned all of her attention to Myth and switched to Calnoric. “I look forward to working with you. You must be a genius—I don’t know that I’ve ever met such a young translator.”
“I am actually a trade translator, and only an apprentice,” Myth said.
“Nah, you’re just being humble.” Arvel grinned at Gwendafyn. “She is absolutely a genius.”
“No, no.” Myth violently shook her head. “I am not skilled at—”
Gwendafyn interrupted with a delightful laugh. “Arvel is right—the Translators’ Circle would never allow a dissatisfactory translator to serve the crown prince. You need not show such humility around us, Mythlan.”
Myth’s face was so hot, she was sure it had to be beet red. “But, that is to say…”
“She’s perfect for the position,” Arvel added with a smile that was too mischievous for Myth’s liking. “Since she is actually a trade translator, she’s been a great help to me while I organize the trade orders. And…” He gave Myth a significant look.
Myth froze.
Ohh, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell her how much I adore her!
Myth tried to communicate a warning of hellfire using only her eyes.
Arvel, of course, ignored her. “She’s told me before how she greatly admires you.”
I’m going to dump his cookie stash in his study and tell him ants have infiltrated.
“That’s too kind of you, Mythlan! Really, I am not at all special—I’m just bloodthirsty for an elf.” Princess Gwendafyn winked.
Myth wanted to shout at hearing the princess degrade herself, but since that would certainly be considered socially inappropriate—even though such an act hadn’t been mentioned in any of the books Myth had spent the past few days studying—she settled for giving Arvel a death glare. It was his fault anyway. “I must beg to disagree,” Myth politely said. “You are admirable in every way, and while it would give me joy to recite your many wonderful qualities and traits, I doubt you would like to spend that long listening to them.”
Gwendafyn took Myth’s tense hands and squeezed them. “Thank you. It makes me happy to know that I have found favor with wonderful people like you.”
“What’s this, now?” Prince Benjimir—Commanding General of Calnor’s armed forces—appeared just behind Gwendafyn’s shoulder. He slid an arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her cheek. “I thought I’d find Arvel flirting with you again, but instead you’re exchanging