The Prince's Bargain

by K. M. Shea

  He walked around his desk and leaned against her table. He wasn’t close enough that his legs brushed her or any such thing, but he had invaded her space just enough to make Myth overly aware of his presence. “Come, Myth.” He placed his hands on her desk and smiled. “That’s enough working for now. What kind of refreshments do you want today? Cookies? Tarts? A pie? Or perhaps a mix?”

  Myth finally gave in to his command and relaxed in her seat, letting her mental exhaustion lower her eyes to half-mast. “All of the kitchen refreshments are delicious. Any number of them will be delicious. But…” She hesitated.

  Arvel waited for several moments. “But?” he prompted.

  Myth mashed her lips together and peered up at him. “Could we have the strawberry tea we tried a few days ago?”

  She waited, hopefully.

  Usually it’d be considered rude to ask for a specific refreshment as the employee, but Arvel asks me every day what food I’d like. I don’t think he’ll mind if I ask for a specific tea instead.

  The change in Arvel was so fast, Myth would have missed it if she blinked.

  His smile shrank and went slightly tilted, his eyes narrowed in intensity, but mostly his presence seemed to expand and take up all the space around them. He leaned closer to Myth and said in a quiet but assured tone, “You can have whatever you want, Myth. Whatever you wish, and it will be my command.”

  Myth gurgled, her regular self-assurance failing her in the face of this foe.

  The Prince of Seduction had arrived.

  13

  “I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries,” Myth squeaked.

  “There are no boundaries between us.” The curve of Arvel’s smile seemed to be alarmingly co-related to the frantic, increased beat of Myth’s heart. And in that moment, she wondered if Arvel purposely hid how his eyes could grow so warm they glowed just so they had more punch when he needed it, or if he was merely unaware of how attractive he was.

  No. No! No. Myth mentally chanted. I’m only thinking such…odd thoughts because of what Princess Gwendafyn and Lady Tari said, but it’s all nonsense.

  “There are plenty of boundaries between us,” Myth babbled. “Big ones. Small ones…tall ones?”

  Arvel chuckled, but he seemed most fascinated with her hair. She had tucked the silvery tail so it spilled over her shoulder, a move born of self-preservation because she kept accidentally yanking her head back when it got pinched between her body and her chair.

  Arvel reached out, his hands hovering above her hair. “May I?” he asked politely.

  No, you may not!

  Myth struggled to spit out the words, to stop him from this potentially dangerous moment—dangerous, at least, for Myth—but she only managed a strangled squeak.

  He must have taken that for consent, because he slipped his fingers between the locks of her hair. “It’s as soft as I imagined.”

  Nonsense! Myth bellowed in her mind with all the strength her inert body was failing to give her lips at that moment. This is all nonsense! He has become addled in the head from too much work!

  When he finally shifted his eyes from her hair to her face, Myth instinctively froze.

  She had friends and companions. But none of them ever looked at her the way Arvel was right now. He stared at her as if she had hung the moon in the sky—or rather, because this was Arvel—given him a library filled with all the books in the world. It was soft and warm, and it somehow made her heart move oddly in her chest.

  What is this? What is going on?!

  Myth was ever-so-relieved when a knock on the door shattered the moment. “Yes?” she called in a strangled tone.

  The door cracked open, and a familiar redhead peered in. “Myth?”

  “Blaise!” Myth abandoned her chair so quickly she almost knocked it over. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  Blaise looked from Myth, who was rapidly closing in on her, to Arvel—who was still leaning against Myth’s desk. “I apologize…am I interrupting something?”

  “Nope! We’re taking a break right now, actually.” Myth looped her arm through Blaise’s so the apprentice wizard couldn’t run off and leave her alone with the Prince of Seduction.

  “Myth is right,” Arvel said in his usual, bright tone. “I was about to go call for some refreshments. I’ll do that, and you two can visit undisturbed.” He pushed off Myth’s desk, his boyish smile back, but Myth wasn’t deceived.

  She knew, now, the Prince of Seduction could pop out. AT. ANY. MOMENT!

  In the spirit of self-defense, Myth towed Blaise farther into the office. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

  Arvel paused in the now open doorway. “Of course. Enjoy!” He winked at them, and closed the door behind himself.

  Myth made a choking noise and retreated all the way to the pleasant window, dragging Blaise behind her. “Your sense of timing is perfect.”

  “I’m…glad?” Blaise glanced at the closed door, shook her head, then carefully studied Myth. “How are you faring?”

  Myth felt her cheeks burn. Is it that obvious that Arvel can upset my inner balance? Or did I just look excessively sappy and unprofessional when she first saw me? Oh dear.

  Blaise, unaware of the upheaval she had just caused, blithely continued. “I know when you told me about the attack you said you were fine, but when you mentioned you decided to stay and work with His Royal Highness instead of returning to the trade workshop I didn’t know if you could still be affected by shock, so I thought I should check in on you.”

  “Why would my staying be cause for concern?”

  “Because I thought you’d jump at the chance to get back to the trade workshop—it would give you the opportunity to return to focusing on making it as a trade translator.”

  “Oh.” Myth uncomfortably swallowed, and wondered how she could explain it to her friend.

  When Arvel had given her the option to step aside, she considered it.

  Even though she studied and practiced whenever she had the chance, she was well aware that staying on as Arvel’s social translator—even if she was helping him with the investigation—would hinder her career.

  She’d still make it as a trade translator, but the process to graduation from apprentice to a fully certified translator would take longer than she had planned for. She had sacrificed so much as a student to race through her schooling, all because she wanted to be a part of the companionship found in the trade workshop.

  But…what Arvel was doing was important.

  His investigation into the Fultons was vital. And Myth wanted to support him in it.

  And really, what are a few extra months of schooling for the opportunity to help him?

  A nagging sensation whispered that perhaps it wasn’t all out of benevolence, but because she enjoyed her time with the crown prince.

  Myth brushed that dangerous thought away. “I did consider it, but in the end I’m honored to work with His Royal Highness in this investigation. I take pride in the Trade Translators’ Department, and this investigation has proven their worth tenfold. I won’t let someone like Lord Julyan Fulton use our skills for his financial benefit.”

  “That sounds just as fiercely trade-focused as you usually are,” Blaise wryly said. “Fine, I’m convinced—but I’m still concerned for you. Won’t your safety be in danger?”

  “There is nothing to fear. I spend most of my time with His Royal Highness, who is now guarded at all times. Even at night I am safe, for the Translators’ Circle agreed to allow a few Honor Guards to stand on duty at our quarters.”

  “Guards will help, but is that enough?” Blaise asked. “I know your building is stuffed with people during the day, but don’t most of the translators live in Haven’s city limits?”

  “Nearly two-thirds of translators live in Haven and not our Translators’ Circle, yes,” Myth agreed. “But all the students and apprentices and a few junior translators live in the building with me. There are enough of us that it is safe—
particularly with the guards standing watch.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Blaise said. “I’m especially glad that you’re feeling fine.” She hesitated and thoughtfully narrowed her eyes.

  She must want to ask me something about High Elf magic, but is debating with herself whether or not it is allowed given the current circumstances. Myth fondly smiled at her friend and waited patiently for the question.

  After chewing on her lower lip for a few moments Blaise finally said, “I get what you mean by the Prince of Seduction, now. But if we make logical conjectures based on what we know of His Highness, I don’t think it’s an act or accidental.”

  Myth’s heart spasmed. “Oh?” she wheezed.

  “Crown Prince Arvel is known for being an intellectual. To my knowledge, he hasn’t had a single flirtation—and I’d know if he did because we wizards are the biggest bunch of gossips you’ll ever find.” Blaise nodded, faintly reminding Myth of an elderly grandmother. “And he’s not the type to be wishy-washy. The governmental workers just about cried when King Petyrr announced he was the new heir because everyone knew he’d take the work seriously.”

  Myth had taken the length of Blaise’s discussion to recover, so she was much more collected by the time her friend finished. “Although I applaud the portrait you have made of his sterling character,” Myth said, “I still can’t believe it. I am his employee, and a mere apprentice translator. What possible merit would he have in pursuing a, a…flirtation with me?”

  “Well,” Blaise’s eyes seemed extra soulful. “I’d have to say the merit lies in the fact that he likes you.”

  Myth shook her head. “No.”

  “Considering you are incredibly smart with languages, I would have thought you’d notice his rather obvious body language,” Blaise grumbled.

  “You don’t understand,” Myth said. “I’m no one. I’m not noticeable, or special. I’m very comfortable with that knowledge, and I’m not going to giggle like a child over some impossibility that will never happen and only serve to make me sad when it never comes true.”

  Blaise puffed up with anger. “What do you mean you’re not noticeable or special?”

  Myth spread her arms out wide. “Exactly that! My instructors, while kind, have never taken strides to single me out or teach me on a more personal level. My own father is generally disinterested with me. While I know many kind people you are, in fact, the only one who truly wishes to have a deep and personal friendship with me. To everyone else, I am self-sufficient and adequately complete whatever work I am given, and that is all they care to know.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that.”

  A harsh laugh escaped Myth. “You cannot escape the fact that my father is, at best, apathetic to me.”

  “Yes, but you can’t use him as the measurement for everyone else you meet,” Blaise said. “You’ll make incorrect assumptions, which I fear you’re doing with His Royal Highness.”

  Myth forced herself to relax and stared out at the gardens. “The chances are infinitesimal, so I’ll take the risk, thank you.”

  Blaise pulled her arm from Myth and threw her arms around her in a hug, instead. “I will always be here for you,” she fiercely 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 have reported being approached for bribery or anything similar,” Captain Wilford said.

  “We’ve continued our efforts in cooperation with the special guards in the Rosew
ood Park,” Captain Grygg said. “They’ve been quite enthusiastic in their help, not only in guarding your study, but in our investigation into the assailants who attacked you and Translator Myth.”

  “Ahh, yes.” Arvel sat down at his desk and steepled his fingers together. “I can imagine. I believe the origins of their desire to help may stem from something of a trauma they suffered when Lady Tari was attacked in Rosewood Park years ago.”

  Because Rosewood Park had been built for the elves—and was mostly designed by the elves, too—the elves had elected to take up the mantle of maintaining and guarding the gardens. It required only a small muster of soldiers, and most were humans, but it was the only guard force—outside the Evening Stars—run by an elven leader.

  “The Rosewood guards have helped us interview all the palace staff, so we have finished already,” Captain Thad said. “Unfortunately, we found no leads. All of the palace servants were accounted for at the time of the attack, and based on the cooperation we received from them, I don’t believe any of them aided the attackers or let them inside.”

  Arvel sighed. “At least we know our people are loyal, then. Though, obviously, the attackers still managed to get through unhindered even with that on our side.”

  Myth had been skimming the report—which went into greater detail. “Ah—except you have uncovered a possible way in, haven’t you?” Myth asked.

  “Yes,” Captain Thad replied—he seemed to be the elected spokesperson for the trio. “In our interviews, we learned that several visiting nobles brought servants with them when they attended the celebration that night. These servants were allowed to wander outside the palace mostly unhindered. Sir Arion suspects—and our findings support—that, ahem, a certain family brought the assailants in posing as servants.”

  “I’d like more confirmation that Uncle Julyan brought them in than our gut instincts, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. We’ll just have to shore up our security for visitors.” Arvel paused, then abruptly turned around to ask Myth, “How did you know they uncovered that?”

  Confused, Myth pointed to the line of the report. “It says so here.”