The Prince's Bargain - K.M. Shea Page 0,95
leaping off the second floor.
He casually rolled to his feet and jogged up to his wife. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but you’re an idiot!” Princess Gwendafyn sheathed her sword, and the leftover bits of her magic evaporated. “Why did you do that?”
“It was the fastest way down.”
“SO? Wulf, make a note of it, Ben is an idiot.” Princess Gwendafyn swung around to face the man who perpetually lurked in her shadow. At the moment he was scuffling around recovering the daggers he’d tossed Arvel.
“I can’t make such a note, Princess.” He calmly wiped blood off the blades and inspected their edges.
“Why not?”
“He pays me too well.”
Lady Tari put her hands on her hips and shouted up at the balcony, “Arion, you better not be thinking about copying him.”
“I would never,” Arion calmly said.
“Good!” Lady Tari nodded and squinted up at him. “Then should I harass Thad or Grygg into letting me stand on their shoulders so I can climb up to you?”
“No,” Arion snarled. “We’re coming down.”
“How convenient!” Lady Tari brightly said.
Arvel slid one hand off Myth, but instead of entirely releasing her, he used his arm to scoop her into his side. “Come.”
The move made Myth’s traitorous heart beat faster. “What? Why?”
He glanced at Lord Julyan. “I want to get you as far away from him as possible. Captain Thad?”
The resolute captain popped out of the crush of guards. “Yes, Your Royal Highness?”
“We’re heading out.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
Myth initially considered protesting, but the smell of burned flesh was starting to make her sick, and it struck her that it wasn’t a bad thing to get Arvel away from Lord Julyan, either.
She waited until they left the Celebration Hall before she disentangled herself from Arvel—if she kept touching him much longer, she was pretty sure she was going to turn bright red with a blush.
“You’re not going to protest?” Arvel asked. He walked with her and ignored the guards that protectively surged around them.
“No.” Myth couldn’t even look at him, her feelings were too close to the surface. “Besides, we’re really leaving so you can tell His Majesty King Petyrr, aren’t we?”
Arvel sighed deeply. “Yes.” He reached out and caught Myth’s hand, holding it just long enough to squeeze her fingers. “You’ll translate for King Celrin?”
“If Translator Rollo isn’t with them.”
In the following silence, Myth mashed her lips together as her thoughts circled back.
She loved Arvel.
Of course I, priding myself on my practicality, would fall in love with a prince. Not just any prince, but the crown prince! How very addled of me.
Myth snuck a glance at Arvel. His hair was mussed, and his jacket was slightly rumpled, but even Myth knew she couldn’t blame how handsome he looked in the moment on his charm as his face was lined with worry.
Perhaps it isn’t so illogical. He loves books just as much as I do, and even if I overlook that blasted grin of his that would let him charm a horn off a unicorn, his integrity is to be admired no matter what station he holds. But what is there to do about it? He’s my employer. I’m his social translator.
Bleakly, Myth recalled Lady Tari’s and Princess Gwendafyn’s warnings—apparently the pair had seen the symptoms of love much earlier.
They had said not to hide her love, but to boldly share it.
I suppose confessing to Arvel would be one way to get myself back in the trade department with all haste. Surely he’d ask someone to reassign me?
“Do we need to stop for a moment before we reach them?”
“Hmm?” Myth brought herself back to reality with a snap. “I apologize, Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”
“Do we need to take a moment to recover before we go speak to my father and King Celrin?” Arvel asked. “It’d be understandable, considering what you just lived through.”
Myth traced out the tired shadows around Arvel’s eyes and the subtle tightness at the corners of his lips.
Today had been hard on him. Even though they survived, and Myth felt confident that the Fulton family would soon be crushed, the repercussions were many for Arvel. He’d have to dismantle his own family…and bring additional charges against his mother, who very well might have conspired to try to kill her own son.
There is something to Princess Gwendafyn and Lady Tari’s advice. But I cannot add to the worries on his back already.
Eventually I shall have to reckon with my feelings, but for now it will be enough to help Arvel however I can in all of