The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,55
will care.”
“The Fultons will care,” Arvel darkly said. “But that’s fine. I have plans for them, anyway.”
Now it was Prince Benjimir’s and Sir Arion’s turn to stare at Arvel as if he’d grown another head.
Lady Tari adjusted her baby, tucking a blanket around his feet. “If the matter is settled, then, we’ll be taking our leave. Sius, come!”
The large snow cat prowled after his mistress, his long tail twitching behind him.
“After you, Mythlan.” Princess Gwendafyn smiled at Myth and stood aside, beckoning for her to go first.
Myth moved to join her, but paused when Arvel caught her hand.
“Sleep well, Myth,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Myth nodded. “You as well. I’m…I’m glad you weren’t hurt worse. Be careful.”
The concern that wrinkled Arvel’s forehead disappeared, and he smiled. “If you wish it, I will.”
Across the room, Sir Arion looked like he wanted to strangle the crown prince, and rested his hands on his sword belt so he wouldn’t be tempted.
Myth squeezed Arvel’s hand, then hurried after Princess Gwendafyn and Lady Tari. Exhaustion was starting to close in on her, making her eyelids heavy and her eyes feel gritty.
When Lady Tari bumped her arm against Myth’s, Myth jumped in surprise. Lady Tari caught her eye and winked. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to sleep soon.”
Myth ducked her head. “I apologize for my selfishness.”
“It’s not selfish at all,” Lady Tari said. “I have some experience with garden attacks, so I can personally attest that they are tiring experiences.”
“Speaking of which, you did well, Mythlan.” Princess Gwendafyn was taller than both Myth and Lady Tari, so she had to look down slightly to smile at them. “I heard how you kept your head and shouted the number of armed assailants all while switching between Calnoric and Elvish. It made you that much easier to find, and is to be commended.”
“You are too kind,” Myth said. “I merely did what I was able to at the time, which was disappointingly little since I lack any kind of combat abilities.”
“I disagree,” Lady Tari said. “Fyn is quite right—you acted very admirably tonight. You should be proud of yourself.”
Myth pressed her lips together, sensing this was an argument she wasn’t going to win.
“It’s heartwarming to see how Arvel cares for you,” Princess Gwendafyn continued. “I’m glad for him. He’s excited that being the crown prince means he’ll have the chance to institute change, but I know the title has made him lonelier.”
“Yes,” Lady Tari agreed. “I am glad he has found you.”
The way they say it, it makes us sound like a pair of star-fated lovers.
“I don’t know that I understand what you mean,” Myth politely said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lady Tari raised both of her eyebrows at her. “Arvel acts half in love with you.”
“Quite so,” Princess Gwendafyn agreed.
Myth didn’t know if shock from the attack was finally setting in or if the exhaustion from staying up so late was getting to her, but she had a hard time keeping up with the legendary duo. “I must beg your pardon, Lady Tari and Princess Gwendafyn, but you might be reading a little too deeply into our companionship.”
Lady Tari slightly tugged on Myth’s arm, towing her down a different hallway when they reached an intersection. “Oh?”
“We’re friends,” Myth acknowledged. “And I may overstep myself in saying I believe he enjoys my presence. But it is not as deep as you seem to think it.”
“Are you certain he thinks that?” Princess Gwendafyn asked.
“He’s my employer,” Myth said.
“You say that as if it is some sort of defense,” Lady Tari said.
“My advice is that if something does happen, you’ll be much better off if you fight off your embarrassment and gut instinct to hide it, and just tell Arvel,” Princess Gwendafyn said.
Even though Princess Gwendafyn was her hero, Myth could only shake her head. “Nothing is going to happen.”
Lady Tari and Princess Gwendafyn exchanged looks.
“If you say so,” Lady Tari said. “But enough of this. We’re almost to the royal wing—and your room for tonight. I hope you find it comfortable…”
“Your performance this morning was rather impressive.” Benjimir studied Arvel’s bookshelves—probably trying to find a tome he could filch, the over-grown rat. “I’ve said it before, but it’s a shame you didn’t take up fighting as a hobby.”
Arvel rolled his shoulders back—even though it was just an hour past dawn, Benjimir had already subjected him to a grueling practice session, one he’d feel all day long. “It doesn’t interest me much. And I only learned daggers because you