like our economy and trade,” Arvel said. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with their lack of children.”
“It’s because they know, Arvel, that if they had children, nearly everyone would push to make their child the next heir as long as you skip about your merry, unfettered way and give the people no security in your lineage,” King Petyrr bluntly said. “And that is why I have no delightful half-elf grandchildren to play with.”
Arvel paused. “Truly?”
King Petyrr hesitated as the puppy inquisitively sniffed his beard, then nodded. “Yes. Once you’re married you can solidify your position as king, and your brother and sister-in-law can cement their roles as being more on the military end. The people could settle, then.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps they don’t think I’m the best choice for crown prince.”
“I know you’re the best choice, and the people trust me,” King Petyrr declared. He scratched behind the puppy’s ears. “What evil thing has settled in your belly to make you say that? When I made you my heir you were surprised, but you didn’t mind.”
“I still don’t.” Arvel sagged against the hallway wall, and exhaustion nipped at his heels.
He was tired, not just because of the all-nighter he’d pulled the previous day—it had been harder to pull off than it used to be, giving Arvel the sinking suspicion he was getting old—but also because he just felt beaten.
“I’m honored to be given the role, and while I’m aware it’s a responsibility, I am grateful for the chance to help my people and my country. It’s just…” Arvel stared at a worn spot on the red and purple diamond-shaped carpet spread across the floor. “I feel like I can’t find a woman—a future queen—who can see me past my crown.”
King Petyrr shifted the puppy to one arm so he could pat Arvel on the arm with his newly freed hand. “I’m sorry, lad.”
“How do I do it, Father?” Arvel asked. “How do I know when someone sees me?”
King Petyrr heaved a deep sigh. “I wish I knew. I really do. But I can promise you that you’ll find the right lass. And then you’ll know. Correct?”
Arvel reluctantly nodded.
“Good! I trust you to marry for love.” King Petyrr swiveled on his heels and started to march back to the Little Hall.
“How can you know I’ll end up with someone I’ll love who could also be a good queen?” Arvel asked.
“Hah!” A gust of laughter burst out of King Petyrr, and he turned around long enough to grin. “You are my most studious and intellectually brilliant son. Any girl you love will have the intelligence, reason, and manners required of a queen!”
8
It was quiet in the library.
The sunshine drifting down through the skylights painted the pages of Myth’s books—A History of Calnorian Table Manners, and An Introductory Manual of Social Translation—deep reds and swirls of gold.
She glanced up from the books and smiled as she studied Arvel, who was poring over a stack of logbooks. A wooden tray holding two tea cups was positioned in front of him, and tiny swirls of steam rose from the fragrant cups.
Myth suspected the tea inside the library was a perk of being a royal, but Arvel insisted drinks were allowed in the meeting area they had taken over on the second floor. They were pushed back against the farthest wall, nestled into a corner. To reach any books Myth would have had to fling her teacup with the strength of a warrior—they were surrounded by tables dappled with light shed by elven lanterns. But Myth had never received the treat of refreshments in the library until she started working for Arvel.
She took a sip of her tea—which had a faint peach flavor to it—and her cup clacked when she set it down. All in all, she was deeply pleased by the evening.
Arvel, sadly, was not half as happy. He sighed and pinched his nose as he pushed the records away from him.
“Are the various records not matching up?” Myth asked. “You’re still working on the trade reports between Lessa and Calnor, aren’t you? Or have you switched back to studying tariffs?”
“I’m still looking at the trade logs.” Arvel set his hands on the desk and stretched his fingers wide. “I’m trying to churn up dirt on the Fultons. I think I’ve found enough, but I’ll have to do some digging and circle back to the treasury department to access the Fultons’ tax records.”