Page 39 of Randall
“Since the beginning…” Darvon peered at me. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
I masked my surprise that he’d been able to pluck that thought from my mind. The mate-bond was a curious thing indeed, but I pushed those thoughts from my mind to answer him. “It was Jarrah who gave Valter a drop of his blood. Valter then became one of the first of us to find his mates, quickly followed by Jarrah himself, and then you, Darvon. And now Timur. All of you princes, too.” Except…
How did Sylvan and Baron’s sons fit into the picture? Had Fate elevated them to some princely level now that Baron was consort to one? Or was it Sylvan who carried the mating?
“Sylvan also carries noble blood,” Darvon murmured. “His father is my uncle, my mother’s twin brother. Prince Sylvar. Sylvan’s the son of a prince.”
“Which explains why you treat him as a friend instead of a servant.”
Darvon smiled gently, tipping his head as he regarded me. “Yes, we’re cousins. Family. Neither of us has aspirations for thethrone, either, and like his father, he’s more than happy to stand behind me when needed.”
“Sounds like how Baron’s sons support him.”
“They’ll be a good match,” Darvon agreed.
“They’ll be the fifth?” Artor inquired.
I glanced down through the small window at Artor, mostly hidden inside the dark cabin of the carriage, and shrugged. Darvon shifted beside me. He bit his bottom lip and shrugged as well before he said, “I think so,” which absolutely surprised me. He'd only casually mentioned Sylvan's sexual interests in passing in what I'd thought was him jesting.
“Jarrah insisting I ‘tag along’ makes so much more sense now. I thought he only wanted me to go because Baron’s boys are still too young to be out in the sun for long. Circumstances being what they are, I’m glad to have these soldiers joining us since I’m now preoccupied. Having a mate is… distracting.”
Timur’s low rumble of agreement, along with Artor’s yip of surprise as he disappeared from view, made me laugh. I was slightly jealous. I’d barely had any time with my mates before the soldiers interrupted us, followed by Flynn volunteering to check on Timur.
“Me, too,” Darvon whispered, wrapping his arms around me. He snuggled closer, laying his head on my shoulder, his breath warm on my skin. “We’ll do as Flynn wants, though, and find an inn, a private room, and a bed big enough for all of us.”
“Or, at least, for the two of us. Flynn can lie on top.”
Darvon’s light bubble of laughter lit up my chest, and when Flynn turned in his saddle, took in our posture, and blew us a kiss, my heart skipped.
As the sun began its descent, Captain Lanter sent two of his men ahead to Riverside. By the time we arrived, an array of people were waiting at the gate to greet us. Baron and Duke dismounted first before helping Valter down. Not that he needed help, but it was for show. I, however, noted a hooded figure slipping among the humans before he stopped beside the man in front and whispered into his ear.
When Valter stepped forward, his mates flanking him, I handed the reins to Darvon with a hurried, “Wait here,” and clambered down from the carriage seat. When the humans all went down on one knee, I realized I shouldn’t have worried. Still, I moved to take a position directly behind the prince.
“Thank you,” Valter said. “Please rise.”
The man in front took another small step forward. “Prince Valter, I am Herulf, Mayor of Riverside.”
Duke drew a deep breath in through his nose. “Wolf shifter. Interesting.”
“Very,” Baron agreed.
“I’m pleased to greet you, Lord Mayor,” Valter replied to Herulf. I was delighted to see his lessons in polite discord were apparently not for naught. “These are my mates: Master Vampire Baron Cendres and Alpha Wolf Duke Valen of Pack Valen. We are passing through on our way to Wintervale and require lodgings for the night.”
“Of course. Master Nicholas of Clan Black Rill thought your mate might be more comfortable with them.”
Valter turned to Baron, who shook his head, but then he stopped and pointed backward toward the rest of us. “MasterNicholas, Mayor Herulf, if you could approach.” Once they closed the distance, Baron explained about their mixed group. His sons and Artor required feeding, but the rest of them just needed rooms with thick curtains.
“I do not,” Artor said, standing outside the carriage. “A dark room will suffice for my mate and me.”
I stepped out of Baron’s way as he strode toward Artor. All eyes were on them, though neither seemed to notice with the way their gazes were locked.
“You cannot feed from him. He’s still healing.”
Artor glanced inside the carriage at Timur. “Mate?”
Timur’s low rasp rolled from the interior. “Food, and plenty of it, will quicken my healing. Can you arrange that for me?”
“Are you sure? We must all be—”
