The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,36

pocket of his jacket. “You’re right.”

It seems to me I’ve spoken enough. Now would be the time to stay silent so he can draw his own conclusions. Myth studied him with unblinking eyes, and kept quiet.

“Father said he gave me the position as chief liaison over elven trade to give me power. It’s acceptable to use it.” Arvel spoke slowly, as though he were unraveling his thoughts. “We’ve let the Fultons run amok too long. And they’ve gotten too bold to let it become this obvious. If I announce we’re seeking to bring charges against them, I can ask some of Father’s aides to dig into their tax records. Because if they’re lying about losing merchandise, I’d bet my best dagger that they’ve falsified plenty of other records.”

Myth made a noise in the back of her throat and picked up her teacup. “I am glad you agree.”

“Mother is going to be a problem. I’ll have to come up with a plan to reckon with her, or she’ll come after me with her claws,” Arvel sighed.

Myth, about to sip her tea, paused with her teacup hovering just below her lips. “She would hurt her own child?”

“Not physically—at least I don’t think she would.” Arvel’s thoughtful expression was back, and he rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “But she’ll rip me to shreds with her words. And after this I imagine she’ll use every petty trick she can to make my life miserable. But she can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do, so it will just be…uncomfortable.”

A grunt of disgust escaped Myth’s control after she finished her tea and set her teacup down. “I would hope you are wrong about her actions. But I suppose I can see the effect they’ve had on you already.”

“What do you mean?”

He is my employer…how frank can I be? Myth met the prince’s blue-eyed gaze. But he did say we are friends, and I care enough about him that I don’t want this to be true of him.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then spoke slowly. “You don’t value yourself enough. It’s not that you lack confidence in your competence, but you are willing to subject yourself to rude behavior from others…and you seem to believe your only true value is in your title.”

Arvel tipped his head curiously. “Isn’t it?”

“No!” Myth frowned deeply and shook her head at him. “And that’s exactly what I’m referring to. Your title is a part of you, but it’s not your essence; it’s not your soul. It’s a duty you have, yes, and it is a position of power. But regardless of whether you were the crown prince or a stable boy, you are brilliant and passionate.”

Arvel stared at the table for several long moments.

Myth moved her empty teacup to the wooden tray, believing that would be the end of the discussion. “Now that you’ve decided on charging the Fultons—”

“Do you value me?”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“You said I don’t value myself. Do you value me?”

Myth rolled her eyes and was considering bestowing a scoff on the prince, but she felt a change in the air.

The pleasant light of sunset became heavier somehow, and more golden. There was a thickness to the air that hadn’t been there before, and almost against her will, Myth slowly raised her eyes.

He felt…different.

The bright blue of his eyes seemed smoldering, and his smile was dangerously tilted to the side. He was still, and his posture was relaxed, but the way he looked at her made Myth feel like a rabbit trapped between the paws of a blue-eyed wolf.

What is going on? What happened to all of his usual boyish charm?

“I…what?” Myth said.

Arvel pushed his seat back and stood, towering above the table. “That’s hardly an answer, Myth. And I’m waiting with bated breath.” His chuckle was a sound so rich and throaty it pressed Myth back into her chair.

“Um,” Myth said with all intelligence.

Arvel slowly ambled around the table, drawing closer to her.

What is this? What is this? Myth’s thoughts stumbled over one another as she tipped her head back so she could peer up at Arvel as he lingered above her. I should stand. Or move. Or SOMETHING! She tried to move her feet, but it seemed she couldn’t do more than grip the edge of the table. How can my own body fail me like this because of a, a…smile?!

Once he was at her side, Arvel placed a hand on the table and leaned

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