to her shoulder she suspected strands of her ponytail brushed his fingers. “Yes, I expected as much.” Arvel sighed. “You have my thanks, Arion. I just wish it hadn’t come to this.”
“Start expecting the worst of everyone,” Prince Benjimir advised. “Then you’ll be prepared.”
Arvel grimaced. “I’d rather not get to that point, thanks, or I’ll be a grumpy, paranoid badger by the time I’m made king.”
Prince Benjimir shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“I don’t care about the emotional reasoning behind your acceptance, just that you agree,” Arion bluntly said.
“Ah, ah, I haven’t agreed quite yet!” Arvel glanced down at Myth. “I want guards in the Translators’ Circle at night.”
Myth twisted in her chair to gape up at Arvel in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
Sir Arion rubbed his eyes. “You do realize the translators are going to violently protest this.”
“It’s my price for dragging guards around after me,” Prince Arvel said. “I want Myth safe at night.”
“You can hardly think to barter using your safety,” Sir Arion persisted. “It’s asinine.”
“Then you better take Lady Tari with you to convince the translators, because I want it done.”
Sir Arion studied him. “And then you won’t try to evade your guards—or complain about them?”
“Do you take me for a child?” Arvel scoffed. “Yes, I won’t try to sneak out without them!”
Sir Arion shrugged. “Fine. As you will.”
Prince Benjimir watched Myth long enough to make her uncomfortable.
When she finally gave in to the impulse to meet his gaze, he nodded to himself, then switched the object of his watchfulness to his brother. “You suggest he take Lady Tari and not myself because Lady Tari is the Translators’ Circle’s darling with her language skills?”
“No,” Arvel said. “I suggested her because he needs to convince the Translators’ Circle, not frighten them.”
Prince Benjimir made a noise at the back of his throat. “Gwendafyn says I’m charming.”
“Gwendafyn’s favorite birthday gift is bladed weapons,” Arvel said. “I’m not convinced she’s the best judge of charm.”
“Hm,” Prince Benjimir said.
“I beg your pardon,” Myth politely inserted herself into the conversation.
Sir Arion glanced in her direction. “Are you going to argue against the sense of guards, too?”
Myth paused. “They won’t interfere with my job or studies?”
“Correct.”
“And they won’t disturb my colleagues’ work?”
“That’s right.”
Myth folded her hands in her lap. “Then I don’t see why I would take offense to their presence.”
Prince Benjimir was back to studying Myth, though this time he tilted his head. “I’ve heard about this.”
“What?” Arvel asked.
Prince Benjimir wagged a finger at Myth. “Sensible people. I thought they were a legend.”
Arvel rolled his eyes. “For someone who claims his sense of humor is dead, you persist in making terrible jokes.”
“Just wait until Father gets his hands on you,” Prince Benjimir said with great satisfaction. “I predict he’ll half kill you in a hug so tight you can’t breathe, and then he’ll shake the life out of you when he yells at you for forgoing guards for so long.”
“I would like to return to my rooms,” Myth interjected.
“Not until the palace is officially cleared,” Arvel said.
Myth frowned. “For a person who previously argued against guards, you seem overly worried about safety.”
Sir Arion nodded his approval, and Prince Benjimir laughed outright.
“Myth!” Arvel staggered back a step away from her chair and pretended to fall to his knees. “You have wounded me.” He collapsed against the arm of her chair, carelessly throwing his hands on top of hers.
Myth tried to ignore the tingling sensation of his warm fingers on hers and daintily picked his hands off. “Also, the Translators’ Circle isn’t part of the palace,” she continued. “Even if the palace is cleared, it doesn’t mean the Translators’ Circle is.”
“That’s true.” Arvel remained slumped against Myth’s chair, but craned his neck to peer at Sir Arion. “Arion, have the Honor Guards check the Translators’ Circle, would you?”
Myth flattened her lips. “That’s not what I was asking for. Couldn’t some guards escort me and stand watch in the Translators’ Circle tonight? Surely, even if the Circle isn’t willing to allow the guards to remain posted there without a conversation about the matter, once they are told what happened this evening, they will gladly accept the extra guards.”
“That’s a sensible solution—at least partially, anyway,” a melodic, feminine voice said.
12
Myth paused at the beautiful sound and turned in the direction it had come from.
Lady Tari and Princess Gwendafyn stood in the doorway together. Sius—Lady Tari’s giant snow cat—struggled to poke his furry head between them.
Lady Tari was dressed in loose elven robes and carried a