but her eyes drifted to Arvel, checking in on her employer.
She straightened up when she realized the crown prince had finished his conversation with Sir Arion, and instead was watching her with a fond smile.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Myth murmured to her fellow apprentices.
“Good evening, Mythlan.”
“Bye, Mythlan!”
Myth raised her hand in farewell and slipped through the crowd. She paused to incline her head whenever an elf—usually clothed in colorful robes or a long, sweeping dress—noticed her. When a human noble saw her—most of the younger set of this group wore shades of purple that were reminiscent of Princess Gwendafyn’s beautiful eyes—she offered them a smile and pleasant greeting.
Eventually, she made it over to where Arvel stood just shy of the hall door.
“I think it’s about time to make our exit,” he said. “We’ve been here long enough, haven’t we?”
“No one else has started leaving yet,” Myth pointed out.
“You responded wrong, Myth,” Arvel said. “You’re supposed to tell me ‘yes, this party is a dreadful bore, let’s go’.”
Myth shrugged. “It has good tea.”
“I thought I supplied you with all the tea you’d ever need in your life in my study. But it seems I was wrong.”
“One can never have enough tea. So, are we going, or no?”
“Yes, let’s—”
“Nephew!”
The muscles around Arvel’s mouth tightened before he put on a polite smile. “Good evening, Uncle Julyan.”
Myth stepped behind Arvel’s shoulder under the guise of taking up the traditional position of a translator. It also happened to let her turn around and see the newcomer, whose name she recognized as the head of the Fulton family.
“Lord Julyan of the Fultons?” Myth confirmed in a whisper as the man strode toward them.
“Yes, my mother’s older brother,” Arvel murmured back.
“Uncle Julyan” was tall and lean—almost to a gangly extent. His jacket was made of crimson colored elven silk, his boots were polished to a shine, and every part about him looked respectable…except for his smile. He greatly resembled Queen Luciee with eyes that seemed to glow with hunger for power—the power of siblinghood, it seemed. The muscles of his face seemed frozen—as if he didn’t change expressions very often.
“I’m glad I caught you before you could shirk your duty like a naughty boy.” Lord Julyan laughed—which wasn’t quite musical enough to pass as genuine. “I was hoping to speak to you tonight—since you’ve denied my requests to meet with you.”
“You’re under investigation, Uncle, and I’m working on it with the Department of Investigation. For the sake of justice, it’s against the law to meet privately with you—unless you meant to make it official and meet with Father, too, for mediation?” Arvel politely asked.
“I thought since you are my nephew, you’d be willing to talk it out friendly like, but I can see you’ve inherited your father’s flair for drama. No matter!” Uncle Julyan’s teeth poked past his lips as he smiled, but it looked more like a growling bear. “I’ll still take this opportunity to ask that you drop your investigation against the Fultons.”
“No,” Arvel said. “We’ve found enough proof of inconsistencies in your reported trade records. I’m afraid it’s out of my hands, now.”
Lord Julyan shrugged. “My staff was careless and inept. It’s my fault for hiring such people. But I’ve had them replaced, and I promise there will be no such mishaps in the future. Given it was only a few clerical errors, the investigation is entirely unnecessary.”
“If it’s not necessary, then it doesn’t really matter if I continue with it, does it?” Arvel’s pleasant smile felt like a bear trap at the moment. “If it is, as you said, only a few errors, it means the investigation won’t uncover anything additional, and you’ll be cleared from all suspicions, which will also have the added benefit of clearing your reputation!”
Lord Julyan’s smile had stayed so unmovable in his cheeks, Myth was starting to wonder if they were made of wax. “You are so thoughtful, Arvel—to be thinking of our family like that. But I believe in the high quality of our reputation; we could stand to take a hit. Rather, I fear that the investigation will be such a colossal waste of the kingdom’s resources. I’d rather spare the king’s coffers than clear my reputation.”
Myth did her best to blend in with the wall as she stared unseeingly at the crowd of party attenders. He reminds me of pond slime, slick and oozing everywhere. What a fiend.
“Now it is you who are thoughtful, Uncle Julyan. But I’m afraid I must insist on the investigation