The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,92

Arvel rammed into the one holding her wrists, and lightning enveloped the second man, making him fall with a scream.

“Did they hurt you?” Arvel shouted over the pandemonium.

Myth shook her head. “I’m fine.”

I hate being so useless!

Arvel was off before he could respond, flicking one of his borrowed daggers at an incoming brigand, and lashing out at the turned back of another.

Myth saw a path open up between Arvel and the Honor Guards.

If I can get to them, Arvel can stop worrying about me.

She ran, jumping a few fallen enemies. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the halfway point.

Almost there…

And then Lord Julyan stepped in front of her.

“Don’t move,” he shouted. “Or I’ll kill her.” There was an unsettling light in his eyes as he rested the point of his sword just over Myth’s heart.

Arvel skidded to a stop. He was so close, Myth might have been able to touch him if she reached back, but she didn’t dare with the sword hovering precariously over her chest.

Slowly, the fighting subsided as Princess Gwendafyn, the Honor Guards, and Lady Tari realized what was going on.

“If you even scratch her, you’ll never leave this room alive,” Arvel snarled.

“Call off your guards. And all of you, step back,” Lord Julyan said.

No one moved.

“Do it!” he yelled.

Arvel exchanged looks with Thad and nodded.

Thad made a few gestures, and he and his men slowly backed up.

Lord Julyan rolled his eyes to the side. “You as well, Princess.”

Princess Gwendafyn’s eyes were narrowed. “You can’t think you’re going to get away with this.”

“I think I can.” Lord Julyan’s smile seemed unhinged, and his eyes were bloodshot. “In fact, I think you’ll escort me through the palace, and I will leave here unhindered.”

Lady Tari narrowed her eyes, and her blades of light shone brightly on her arms as Sius growled at her feet. “You’re mad if you think we’re letting you go anywhere.”

“Then the translator dies.” Lord Julyan jerked the sword up so it pressed into the skin of Myth’s neck.

Myth inhaled deeply, but only blinked when she felt the cold steel against her windpipe.

Arvel bared his teeth in a silent snarl and clenched his hands into fists. “Fall back to the boundary of the room.”

“Are you sure?” Princess Gwendafyn idly twirled her sword and glanced up at the balcony.

Arvel didn’t follow her gaze, but he glanced to Thad, who nodded again.

“Yes,” Arvel said. “Move slowly.”

The Honor Guards backed up reluctantly—each step they took was small and begrudging, but Lord Julyan’s smile grew the farther they went.

The vengeful lord turned his attention to Myth and jostled his sword. “Once they reach the walls, you will walk with me, Translator.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Arvel seethed.

Lord Julyan scoffed at him. “If I hurt her, it is your fault for not giving in to my demands.”

Myth kept her hands pressed into her sides even as her palms grew sweaty. Sluggishly, she lowered her gaze from Lord Julyan’s fever-bright eyes to the elven blade stretched between them. This close, she could read the inscription that ornamented the blade, picking out recognizable words in Elvish, and a few of the symbols she’d managed to translate from the High Elf book on magic that she’d found.

As I thought, it’s the one that was on display in his town house. A true High Elf artifact. Seeing it this close, I know it must be illegally obtained or stolen given the potency of the magic laced into the blade.

She flicked her eyes up to Lord Julyan.

Which shows how stupid he is to possess a magic High Elf sword. Their weapons thirst for blood on a mild day, but anything forged with High Elf magic is a double edged blade, willing to harm anyone as long as the right words are spoken. Wait…

Lord Julyan lifted his chin up and smiled arrogantly when everyone—from Lady Tari and Sius to Arvel and the Honor Guards—stood with their backs to the walls. “Now, move, Translator.”

Myth stared at the sword, a solution dawning on her.

She wasn’t interested in fighting—it had never occurred to her to pick up anything besides a book.

But the library had burned. And Lord Julyan was actively seeking to kill Arvel.

For that reason alone, I’m willing to spill his blood on my hands.

“Why do you just stand there? Move!” Lord Julyan jostled the blade, slicing the delicate skin of Myth’s neck.

Arvel and Thad stirred, but Myth didn’t flinch.

She glanced at the symbols on the sword, saw the rune for flames, then smiled. She spoke, the unfamiliar