a response to Myth, then bowed slightly.
“Elves Inthreal and Pharryc wish to express their delight in seeing His Majesty King Petyrr, and hope that your conversation with His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arvel is enlightening and restful.”
“Thank you! I also hope it can be enlightening. Come along, Arvel!” King Petyrr had to reach up to throw his arm around Arvel—who was quite a bit taller than he—but he yanked Arvel along as if he were one of the king’s favorite pets.
Arvel staggered, but righted himself quickly enough so he didn’t trip as his father relentlessly marched on.
Numerous lords and ladies tried to flag the king down, but he determinedly marched past them, gently declining invitations with a merry wave and matching smile.
Arvel was somewhat surprised when King Petyrr walked him all the way out of the Little Hall, then turned around to his tail. “All right all of you, time to scram for a bit. I need some time with my son—except you. I’ll take that.” King Petyrr stopped the kitchen boy with a wink and took the fuzzy puppy from him, cradling the dog in his arms.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Rollo bowed, then slipped back inside the Little Hall, making a dash for King Celrin.
The rest of his followers were not so easily dissuaded. It took King Petyrr puffing up like a cat and sternly barking, “Off with you all!” before they scattered, leaving the father and son alone.
The king petted the puppy for a few moments, then turned to Arvel with a wide smile of good humor that instantly put Arvel on his guard.
It wasn’t that Arvel was afraid of his father. Not at all. If Queen Luciee was icy and unmotherly, King Petyrr made up for it by showering love on his sons and giving them all of the warmth a child could hope for. But Arvel was enough like his father to pick out when he was scheming something…because he always hid it uncannily well.
“Enjoying the luncheon?” King Petyrr asked with an alarming amount of harmlessness.
“Yes…” Arvel cautiously said.
“Your new translator is a pretty little thing. Are you sure you only think of her as a sort of library companion?”
Arvel narrowed his eyes. “What is this about, Father?”
King Petyrr side-eyed him. “Going to avoid answering that, are you? Very well!” He chuckled when the puppy snuggled into his arms. “I thought I should let you know that after a bit of consideration, I’ve decided to make you the Chief Liaison of the Elven Trade Division in the Commerce Department. You’ll be responsible for all facets of Lessa trade, and you are now the ultimate leader of that trade division. What you say, goes.”
Arvel leaned back on his heels.
I had prepared myself for a lot of things. This was not one of them.
“I’m in charge of the trade just with Lessa?” Arvel asked.
“Indeed.” King Petyrr rested his arms on the bulge of his own belly. “You are the crown prince. It is time for me to hand off more responsibilities. I mean to shift leadership of the entire Commerce Department to you in the next few years, but this is the perfect way to learn what will be expected of you.”
“And you just happened to decide on putting me in charge of all Lessa trade?”
“You’re already involved in that practice. It seemed like a simple jump.”
“It is,” Arvel agreed. “But I’m already involved in another half a dozen departments—ones that I already play a larger role in: like economic development and guild regulations. I’m curious to hear why you didn’t decide on one of those.”
King Petyrr rested a hand on the puppy’s back as it started to fall asleep. “That intent on figuring it out, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Ahh, well. I’m giving you this position because it will give you the chance to fight back against your mother.”
Arvel had been edging over to the side of the hallway, so they wouldn’t stand in the dead center in case anyone came upon them. But upon his father’s proclamation, he froze. “What?”
“I know how she yanked you around two days ago, and I know why she decided to do it. It is to your credit that you outfoxed her and finished the changed order regardless of the short notice.”
Arvel reached out to gently rub the puppy on the top of its head. “I couldn’t have done it without Myth—my translator. Since she’s a trade translator she had some of the training necessary to fill out all the logs and proper forms.”
“Then I’m all