The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,37
over it. He wasn’t crowding her, precisely. But with this different air around him, he seemed to take more space, and she felt his closeness as her hair prickled on the back of her neck.
His smile evened out as he openly studied her. But it wasn’t one of his normal grins, it was something much more.
Stop smiling! Myth screamed in her head. And stop looking at me! Then I’d be able to function.
“What’s your answer?” His voice was quiet, but had that edge to it that Myth couldn’t quite pin down.
“You are…that is to say…”
It’s unfair that I am a linguist, and yet Arvel is able to rob me of that ability with just a smile! This is cheating, I know it!
“Yes?” Arvel leaned the tiniest bit closer.
Rather than stare into his eyes—which Myth was positive would make her as stupid as a chicken—she fixed her eyes on the folded collar of his shirt. “Of course I value you. Er, you are my employer.”
“And friend?” Arvel leaned the tiniest bit closer, and Myth was supremely aware of…him.
“And friend,” Myth agreed with a squeak. “As long as your definition matches mine.”
His teeth flashed as he smiled. He opened his mouth again, but thankfully—blessedly—the squeaky wheels of a pushcart trundled closer and closer.
Arvel straightened up and turned around, breaking the heavy air.
Myth sucked in air, and her muscles were roughly the consistency of a pudding tart.
One of the library pages pushing a cart neatly stacked with books popped out of a space between the shelves. She bowed to Arvel and Myth, then maneuvered her cart to the side and began shelving books.
Stars be blessed—she’s staying here! Myth almost collapsed in relief, but she gave Arvel a sneaking glance, just in case.
He ran a hand through his hair—which was more coppery in the reddening light of the sunset—and he ruefully grinned down at her, his usual smile back. “I think we’ve done enough work for tonight. Are you ready to depart?”
Myth didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded, relaxing only when Arvel retreated to his side of the table and began gathering up his materials.
Myth automatically followed his example, and hoped her face didn’t reveal what she was thinking.
What was that? And why did Arvel decide to trot it out now?
“He smoldered, Blaise. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Myth forced her posture to a perfect straightness—more because the practice felt reassuring than because it was socially required. “He’s always fairly charming and quick to smile. But this was different.”
Blaise carefully scanned the guests of the garden party, probably looking for any unsuspecting elven enchanters she could pounce on and test her Elvish on. “It certainly sounds different. Mind you, I haven’t seen the crown prince overly much, but I’ve seen enough to know the pleasant smile you’re referring to. Can’t say I’ve ever seen him throwing around such a flirtatious smile like the one you’re describing, and he doesn’t have a reputation for it, either.”
Myth glanced at Arvel again—this was a conversation she did not want him to overhear—but he was laughing at something Prince Benjimir said to Blaise’s mentor, the Wizard Edvin. It seemed he was safely involved in his conversation, and she relaxed minutely, allowing herself to enjoy the pleasant atmosphere of the gardens.
The night’s garden party was one of the annual events the royal families of Lessa and Calnor threw every year for the elven enchanters and human wizards—or so Arvel had told her on their short walk over. (Thankfully, he’d returned to acting normal, but Myth wasn’t fooled. Beneath Arvel’s clear smiles and easy laughter, something…burning lurked.)
“It was…”
“Unexpected?” Blaise offered.
Myth wildly shook her head. “That’s not even half as strong enough as the word required to describe it!”
The moon cast a silver light on the guests and the tables filled with food that had been assembled for the party. Candles secured in brightly colored elven paper lanterns hung from string, providing extra light so the guests weren’t stumbling around in near-darkness.
Blaise reached up and prodded one of the lowest hanging lanterns. “He scared you that badly, did he?”
“I wasn’t scared!” Myth scoffed. “But he was so intense. And his smile…it’s like, like he was a prince of seduction!”
Blaise snorted in her laughter.
Myth scowled. “Stop laughing!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…Do you really know what that word means?” Blaise wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
“Seduction? Of course I do!”
“I would dearly love to hear in what context you learned it, then.” Blaise’s smile turned sly as she grinned up at