The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,75

includes you, Mythlan. Actually, it especially pertains to you.”

Myth blinked. “You don’t think he’s going to forget about me after Arvel brings formal charges forward?”

“No,” Prince Benjimir said grimly. “I think that stinking rat of our uncle will target you because of Arvel.”

Rosewood Park was peaceful and calm…the opposite of how Myth felt as she walked with Arvel, His Majesty King Petyrr, and King Celrin.

Although the three royals were smiling and laughing, Myth’s nerves strained with the knowledge that she was the sole translator for King Celrin, given that he and King Petyrr had shooed Rollo away when she and Arvel first approached the monarchs for a mid-morning meeting that had stretched on to include lunch and an afternoon stroll in the gardens.

“You’ve done well, Arvel,” King Celrin said. “You’ve put together a solid case against the Fultons in a very short amount of time; you should be proud.”

“My King Celrin wishes to extend his praise to Arvel.” Myth flicked her hand from King Celrin to Arvel, then bowed slightly, following the conversation’s flow as she had read in her borrowed library books. She continued on with the translation, keenly aware that all three of the royals watched her as if she was included in the conversation instead of merely translating it.

She couldn’t quite figure out why that was—all the social translators she saw stood at the fringe, murmuring translations when required. And as she was exactly copying her books, she didn’t think it was because she was intrinsically doing anything unspeakably wrong…

King Petyrr laughed and shifted the pug he carried to one arm so he could slap Arvel on the shoulder once Myth finished the translation. “Celrin is right! I certainly know I’m proud of you! You’ve acted not only with honor and speed, but great intellect. You’re righting wrongs that I’ve ignored far too long.”

“Not at all,” Arvel argued. “I was able to catch the Fultons’ initial transgressions only because you happened to assign me the position of Chief Liaison, and I had the time to review all the paperwork.”

“Ahh yes.” King Petyrr’s usual grin grew. “I happened to, indeed.”

When Myth made the translation, for a moment she thought she saw the light of laughter in King Celrin’s eyes, but it was gone immediately.

Privately, Myth agreed with the two kings’ praise. It had been just a little over a week ago that she had retrieved Lord Julyan’s private records from his home. As Arvel had planned, the following day King Petyrr ordered the Honor Guards to search the Fultons’ town house.

“It’s a shame Julyan was smart enough to destroy most of the paper-trail evidence after you got those two logs of his,” King Petyrr continued. “But it turned out right enough since the fool failed to clean out his storage rooms under the house.”

After Myth translated for King Celrin, the elven monarch thoughtfully tilted his head. “I do not believe it was foolishness so much as greed. The items in storage were all ones that implicated him, given that he had previously claimed they had been lost and misplaced from a prior order, but destroying them would have meant letting go of a large profit, and it seems to me that money is Lord Julyan’s main concern.”

Myth took a breath and then translated the elf king’s words, using grasping hand gestures to help get her point across.

King Petyrr nodded thoughtfully when she finished, and then used the hand gestures for “yes” and “regret”.

Myth couldn’t have guessed what exactly he was referring to, and judging by Arvel’s confused expression, neither did he.

But King Celrin understood. He set his hand on King Petyrr’s shoulder and gave him a painful smile.

Feeling like she was intruding on a moment between dear friends, Myth folded her hands in front of her and made an effort to look around the gardens and admire them.

The overcast sky above held back the hot and oppressive summer sun, making the stroll pleasant as they walked down a path marked out by hedges nearly as tall as Myth and bushes trimmed to resemble animals.

Despite the clouds, the songbirds were out in droves, as were fat bees and jewel-colored butterflies, though the air had a slightly smoky scent to it compared to its usual floral smell.

“What’s important is that Arvel has built a solid case. When the Fultons come to trial in two days I’ll be able to make a true and sound judgment that they cannot deny given the mountain of evidence you have turned over to the