sheepish wizards to rejoin their friends.
He didn’t notice the tall elven enchanter who passed them, but Myth did.
Her father, his pale blond hair still pulled back in its familiar plait, glanced in her direction. When he saw she was looking, he nodded to her, and continued on.
That solves one question of my childhood; no matter what I did he never would have taken much interest in me. I’m standing with the Calnorian crown prince and commanding general, and he didn’t even pause. The thought made Myth’s polite smile turn wry.
“Let’s move a little quicker, shall we?” Benjimir stepped in front of Arvel and Myth, clearing the way so they could pass through without interruptions.
Following Benjimir, they prowled past the refreshments—although they paused long enough for Arvel to grab a few cookies and stuff them in his waistcoat pocket—and ended up standing beside life-sized stone sculptures of Queen Alannah of Calnor and King Galas of Lessa—the pair who had signed the historic peace treaty between Calnor and Lessa.
“It seems we’re safe for the moment.” Arvel nodded to Queen Luciee, who had gotten corralled into speaking with King Petyrr and King Celrin. While the kings looked varying levels of amused—King Petyrr’s belly jingled as he laughed whereas King Celrin’s amusement was quieter and crinkled his eyes—Queen Luciee more closely resembled an ice sculpture.
Her eyes skimmed over the crowd, but she must not have seen them behind the statue, because her gaze didn’t stop.
“So it would seem,” Myth said.
“I’ll leave you both to it, then,” Benjimir said. “Given Mother’s cagey reactions, I think it might be prudent to ask Arion to increase Honor Guard patrols for the time being. Our stupid relatives will betray their idiocy and try something, in which case I’d rather be prepared for it. Good evening, Arvel, Translator Mythlan.” Benjimir snapped off a quick nod, then left, his hands draped over his sword belt.
“That sounds…ominous,” Myth said.
“Pay Ben no mind. He likes to be pessimistic—it means he’s so prepared that when the worst happens, he’s in a position to fight back,” Arvel said.
“There is wisdom in being prepared.”
“Oh, certainly!” Arvel grinned. “I’m just glad he’s the one in charge of armies so it’s going to fall on him to do the preparing!”
Myth slowly nodded. “I can see the appeal in that. It frees you up, as well, so you can complete and prioritize other tasks only you are capable of.”
“Like investigating the Fultons,” Arvel said with great satisfaction. “Thank you, I knew you’d agree with me!”
Myth eyed the prince for any signs of his previous…disconcerting conduct.
But his face was as open and cheerful as ever as he watched the party.
Yes, I was right. It must have been due to overworking.
Satisfied, Myth clasped her hands together and put on her patient smile as an elven enchanter approached them. When the enchanter made his greetings in Elvish, Myth was all too pleased to translate now that her life had returned to the steady, normal ground she was used to, and showed no signs of changing.
The following day, in the bright light of dawn, Myth delicately smelled one of the beautiful floral arrangements that scattered the pleasant, heavily windowed dining hall that the royal families of Calnor and Lessa used whenever breaking bread together.
This morning was one of their scheduled times in which both royal families met to break their fast—which, naturally, required the presence of translators. Arvel, however, was the only one present at the moment.
Myth glanced at the prince, who was yawning widely. “I need to get into the habit of going to sleep earlier.” He shook his head and sipped at the tea one of the maids had served him immediately after he entered the room. “Or these early morning breakfasts are going to be the end of me.”
“It’s after dawn,” Myth said. “It isn’t that early.”
Arvel squinted up at her. “I’m a little afraid to ask, but what, then, is an early hour for you?”
Myth thought for a moment. “I routinely tried to wake up an hour before dawn when I was a student. I still attempt to rise earlier than dawn, but it can be difficult if my work required a late night.”
“You’re a stronger person than I am.” Arvel glanced back at her and munched on a piece of bread. “Why don’t you sit down?” He patted the chair next to him in an invitation.
“You already asked me to sit down,” Myth reminded him. “And my answer remains the same: it wouldn’t be proper.”
Arvel put his