The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,39

count myself lucky to be a friend of Myth’s.”

“This is my brother Benjimir, the Commanding General of Calnor’s armies and a prince,” Arvel motioned to his older brother.

“A pleasure.” Blaise curtsied again, but Myth didn’t miss the way her eyes trailed after one of the elven enchanters she had slowly been working on conversing with. “If you could excuse me, Your Highnesses?”

“Of course! The party is for you, after all. Enjoy it!” Arvel laughed a little and waved Blaise off.

Blaise ducked her head in thanks, but she leaned in close to Myth for a moment. “Remember what I said—tell me immediately.”

The cheeky apprentice wizard was gone before Myth could respond, her voice sing-song as she called out after her targeted enchanter in decent Elvish.

“Hmm.” Arvel curiously watched Blaise as she chattered away with the enchanter. “Seems you aren’t the only regular human trotting around the palace who is fluent in Elvish, Ben.”

“There are a great many humans capable of speaking Elvish in the palace, even if you exclude the translators,” Benjimir said with a voice of distaste unique to all older siblings.

Arvel rolled his eyes as he bridged the gap between him and Myth and moved to stand comfortably next to her. “Ignore him. He’s in a foul mood today because he had to send Fyn out to fight some bandits.”

“Quite the contrary.” Benjimir’s smile was a little frightening. “I am deeply pleased today because my little brother found the dirt needed to officially bring a charge against the bloated, self-important Fultons.” He studied Myth through narrowed eyes. “And he tells me it’s your doing.”

Myth bowed. “I regret to say, Your Highness, I played no role in finding the critical information or putting it all together. His Royal Highness is solely responsible for that feat.”

“Yes, but you were the one who talked me into charging them.” Arvel shifted just a tiny bit closer so when he nudged Myth’s elbow with his own, it felt natural. “Speaking of which, it seems that even though I submitted the paperwork to Father just this morning, news of their disgrace has already broken. You can tell by Mother’s face.”

Arvel nodded at the stately queen, who was standing in the area Arvel and Benjimir had just abandoned, her expression icy as she listened to a translator speak on behalf of an elven enchanter. When she glanced in their direction her narrowed eyes looked poisonous, and she pressed her lips together with such force her skin turned white.

“She’s been trying to track Ben and me down all evening—so she can properly yell at us,” Arvel said.

“She can try to yell at us,” Benjimir carelessly said. “But for all her troubles it won’t gain her anything. Since you filed the charge, it can’t be reversed. Her family will face a trial.”

“Is that what will happen next?” Myth asked.

“Yes—in a while,” Arvel explained. “Since the Fultons are a family of nobility, the process is different. First the Crown has to announce an investigation, which we just completed. Next we’ll investigate their finances and dig through all their records—and not just their trade logs, but everything from their filed taxes to their personal accounts. I’ll pass my findings to the Department of Investigation, who will build a case and bring it before Father.”

“Since their crime is a financial one, the process is drawn out unnecessarily long,” Prince Benjimir wryly said. “If a noble dared to hurt someone and there was a decent amount of evidence, they’d be convicted immediately.”

“I’d rather have them committing financial crimes than attacking our citizens,” Arvel said grimly. “As it stands, I’ll be the main target of their ire, and I’d rather keep it that way than get innocents involved.”

“She’s on the move,” Prince Benjimir announced. He nodded to the queen, who was once again maneuvering through the crowds, her expression frozen in eloquence but her eyes fiery with anger. “We’d better move along as well.”

“Right-o! Come on—I think the refreshments will make an enticing excuse.” Arvel beckoned for Myth to walk shoulder to shoulder with him.

Prince Benjimir walked at her open side, and they whisked away before the queen was able to completely extricate herself from the crowd. “I must thank you for encouraging Arvel to act, Translator Mythlan.”

“I did nothing,” Myth said. “Except question why he has not formally charged them already.”

“You undersell yourself, Myth. This way—oop.” Arvel jolted to a stop when two particularly boisterous wizards backed up, unknowingly stepping out into Arvel’s path.

The crown prince waited with a smile for the