The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,79

while there were no fatalities, they suffered painful wounds. Because of this, it is no longer an incident isolated to Calnor. The Fultons have brought Lessa into matters as well. Of course, they were already treading on thin ice since you were present for the attack on Arvel, but you were unharmed. However, taking both incidents into account, it is more than enough reason for myself and Gwendafyn to become involved.” King Celrin’s voice hardened to a crushing degree, and the unusual purple eyes he shared with his daughter looked less beautiful and more deadly by the moment.

It appeared the Fultons had awoken an unexpected enemy.

King Petyrr scratched his beard as he studied his friend. “Speaking specifically of the case Arvel built, we still have all the original copies of the logbooks and, thank the heavens, Arvel insisted on keeping the original logbooks you swiped from Julyan’s study, so we still have all the necessary information. It’s just a matter of reorganizing everything and reproducing all you had done.”

“That took Myth and me weeks,” Arvel said. “The case was scheduled to be the day after tomorrow. We don’t have enough time to gather and re-organize the necessary information.”

King Petyrr sighed. “Yes. Even though we still have access to all the evidence, it pains me to say it, but it seems like we’ll have to delay the case.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it—it feels like we’re playing into their hands. It’s possible the Fultons have another plan in place to either prove their innocence or escape during this delay. The best we can do is put more people on the investigation—I’ll hire whatever number of translators is necessary to see to it that you’re able to reproduce your work—but given that elves were hurt in the library fire, that incident must take precedence for now.”

King Celrin slightly tipped his head and made the hand gesture for “thanks”.

King Petyrr replied with the gestures for “honor”, and “sorrow”.

Even though her heart ached from the loss of the library, and her belly churned with anger, Myth still noticed, and wondered…King Celrin signed that before Rollo finished translating what King Petyrr was saying.

“Since the fires undoubtedly involve the Fultons, I’m putting you on the investigation, Arvel. Sir Arion and Benjimir have both already volunteered to help you,” King Petyrr continued.

“Gwendafyn will likely involve herself as well,” King Celrin added.

“Thank you, Father, King Celrin.” Arvel bowed to each of them, his back almost stiff in its straightness. “I will uncover the perpetrators and mete out justice.”

“Be careful, son,” King Petyrr warned. “If Julyan is willing to go this far, I don’t know what he won’t do. Which is why your mother has been confined to the royal wing of the palace and will receive no visitors.”

“An appropriate decision,” Arvel said, though Myth noticed the slight bend in one of his eyebrows that betrayed his real feelings.

He doesn’t know if it’s enough. And I wonder if he’s right. King Petyrr may have been correct in his assumption that the Fultons are trying to delay the case for their own plan. Surely, they must have known that attacking the library—a structure built by humans and Lesser Elves—would stir Lessa as well. They are too calculating to do so without expecting such consequences…which means Lord Julyan feels he can either escape, or get away with it all.

Something deep in Myth shook—not in fear, but in an emotion she couldn’t quite identify.

If they do…all our work will be for naught, and they will have escaped justice, escaped the punishment they so richly deserve, and will continue to damage both Calnor and Lessa.

The thought made Myth clench her jaw and suck in a rattling breath.

But I’m just a translator. I don’t have any power. How could I stop them?

Arvel couldn’t help but glance at Myth every five or ten steps they took.

When he started the investigation of the Fultons, he never imagined she’d get hurt in this way. Granted, the Fultons hadn’t harmed her yet—that was the only thing keeping him from going to Uncle Julyan’s town house in the middle of the night and dragging him off to prison, evidence or no. But it was obvious that the fire in the library had wounded her deeply.

I thought I could keep her safe…and I failed.

Idly, he tilted his head as he listened to the drilled steps of the Honor Guards behind them and wondered if it would be enough protection for Myth.

“Are you certain I should stay here?”