The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,61
said. “No matter what happens.”
Myth patted her hand. “Thank you, Blaise.”
They slumped together for a few moments before Blaise sighed and pulled back. “I’d best not keep you. I’m daring enough to check in on you to make sure you’re okay, but I’m not near half as daring to keep His Royal Highness kicking his heels in the hall for very long.”
“Also, your mentor will worry,” Myth pointed out.
Blaise rolled her eyes. “Wizard Edvin won’t mind. But all my other teachers fret if they believe I’ve been gone to the restroom for a lengthy time. Really, with the way they act you’d think I’ve made a sink explode or some such thing.”
“It’s likely they’re worried you’re attempting a dangerous spell in the restroom, as you have been known to do, and the sink will explode in the aftermath—as it already has. Twice,” Myth reminded her.
Blaise thumped her way over to the door. “This is why I don’t like it when you talk to them. Your memory is even better than theirs, so you can remind them of all my little accidents.”
“I don’t think any of your activities could ever be construed as little.” Myth followed after her, amused by Blaise’s bluster.
“Yes, yes, whatever you say. We’re still meeting for dinner tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.” Myth smiled when Blaise turned around to balefully eye her. “Good luck with your studies.”
“Thank you. Good luck with your work. And…him.” She glanced meaningfully at the hallway, then swung the door open.
“Goodbye,” Myth called as Blaise slipped out.
Myth poked her head into the hallway, but it was entirely occupied by guards; Arvel wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Although the crown prince wasn’t there, there was still an abundance of work to do for the investigation, so Myth returned to her desk and went back to poring through the logbooks. She looked up only when she heard a familiar step in the hallway.
Moments later, Arvel appeared, bearing a tea tray. “Leave already, did she?” he asked in a conversational tone as he set the tray down on his desk. “I hope the thought of me didn’t drive her off. I went to get our refreshments myself because I thought it would give you two more time alone—I know you haven’t had much of a life outside our investigation, sorry.”
“It’s fine, Blaise has her own studies and work she must see to.” Myth watched Arvel pour the tea. She hoped her gulp wasn’t audible once she saw the pinkish color of the tea and realized he had fulfilled her request and gotten them strawberry tea.
A knock at the door—which was cracked and not quite secured. “Your Royal Highness?”
“Come in!” Arvel called.
Captain Thad, Captain Wilford, and Captain Grygg trooped in. They rearranged themselves in a straight row and saluted in unison.
“Your Royal Highness, we have the day’s reports.” Captain Thad held up a packet of papers.
“Excellent!” Arvel grinned. “Pull up some chairs—the ones you used yesterday should still be clear. Does anyone care for a cookie or a slice of butter pie?”
Captain Thad looked slightly fretful, even as Captain Wilford and Captain Grygg gratefully dropped into their chairs. “No thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
Myth stood and took the reports from Thad, seeing as Arvel was occupied adding sugar to their tea. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Ah, no—that is to say, thank you, Translator Mythlan.” Captain Thad offered her a shy smile and said in passable Elvish, “Your help is appreciated.”
“Very well done!” Myth praised.
“Thank you. Evlawyn says my accent is sharp enough to kill somebody—she’s much better at Calnoric—but at least I can manage a little.” Captain Thad picked up his cape so he could sit comfortably on it, then seated himself with his fellows—who were now grumbling.
“Not here, man,” Captain Wilford hissed. “Although he serves us treats and she looks as sweet as pie, this is the crown prince and his personal translator!”
Arvel didn’t seem to hear the comment, and Myth didn’t wish to embarrass the captains, so she let the comment slide and busied herself with glancing down at the reports so she would appear immersed.
“Here you three go.” Arvel offered the trio each a plate of dainty tea cookies, which they took very properly and held in a way that faintly reminded Myth of some of the matrons in the ranks of nobility. “I hope you don’t have anything of great interest to report?”
“We haven’t noticed anyone paying special attention to the squads guarding you—even with the extra sweeps and patrols we’ve pulled. And none of our men or women