The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,58

continue with the investigation soon. I just need to finish up with Arion and Benjimir.” He stepped back so Myth could slip into her seat.

“Understood.” She started opening logbooks and organizing her notes, pausing only to offer him her polite smile—Arvel was perhaps deluding himself, but he could have sworn it held a fragment of affection in it.

Arion waited until Arvel finally focused on the Guard Commander before he spoke.

“Each captain has multiple squads under his leadership.” Arion shuffled through his papers, then handed one to Arvel. “Here is their schedule for the next few days—the squads rotate off and on at different rotation hours from usual, and they are assigned to you without a pattern to make it impossible for anyone to predict who will be watching you when…”

Four days after the attack, Myth pawed through a trade logbook written in Elvish, searching for the particular entry Arvel wanted her to read.

One of the guards in the hallway adjusted his stance, and when she glanced outside Myth could see a few of the guards standing at attention in a ring around Arvel’s bubbled window seat.

In general, the guards were unobtrusive. They stayed at a far enough distance that, even in the library, they wouldn’t be able to hear Myth and Arvel’s muted conversations.

And as an added bonus, Myth had come to like the three captains in their short acquaintanceship. Every day they reported in to Arvel during their frequent check ins with any observations or concerns their men had noticed.

The captains were professional, but kind and lighthearted. As each day passed and Arvel looked more and more grim, Myth couldn’t help but think he needed whatever laughter he could muster.

“Do you need a break, Myth?” Arvel asked.

Myth jumped a little, and guiltily glanced at him. “Sorry, I’m afraid my mind wandered.”

Arvel snorted. “You were lost in thought for a moment. Not five minutes ago I made you read the same paragraph no fewer than five times because I couldn’t record a single word correctly. It is I who should be apologizing.” Arvel leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window. “But I think a break would be a fine idea. Our brave captains should arrive soon to give us the day’s report. I’ll call for refreshments—enough for us and them.”

“I’m certain they would appreciate such thoughtfulness.” Myth dutifully flipped through the logbook, even as Arvel stood and stretched his arms above his head with a groan.

He walked around his desk and leaned against her table. He wasn’t close enough that his legs brushed her or any such thing, but he had invaded her space just enough to make Myth overly aware of his presence. “Come, Myth.” He placed his hands on her desk and smiled. “That’s enough working for now. What kind of refreshments do you want today? Cookies? Tarts? A pie? Or perhaps a mix?”

Myth finally gave in to his command and relaxed in her seat, letting her mental exhaustion lower her eyes to half-mast. “All of the kitchen refreshments are delicious. Any number of them will be delicious. But…” She hesitated.

Arvel waited for several moments. “But?” he prompted.

Myth mashed her lips together and peered up at him. “Could we have the strawberry tea we tried a few days ago?”

She waited, hopefully.

Usually it’d be considered rude to ask for a specific refreshment as the employee, but Arvel asks me every day what food I’d like. I don’t think he’ll mind if I ask for a specific tea instead.

The change in Arvel was so fast, Myth would have missed it if she blinked.

His smile shrank and went slightly tilted, his eyes narrowed in intensity, but mostly his presence seemed to expand and take up all the space around them. He leaned closer to Myth and said in a quiet but assured tone, “You can have whatever you want, Myth. Whatever you wish, and it will be my command.”

Myth gurgled, her regular self-assurance failing her in the face of this foe.

The Prince of Seduction had arrived.

13

“I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries,” Myth squeaked.

“There are no boundaries between us.” The curve of Arvel’s smile seemed to be alarmingly co-related to the frantic, increased beat of Myth’s heart. And in that moment, she wondered if Arvel purposely hid how his eyes could grow so warm they glowed just so they had more punch when he needed it, or if he was merely unaware of how attractive he was.

No. No! No. Myth mentally chanted. I’m only thinking such…odd thoughts because