Page 13 of Randall
“Feeling left out, Tolly?” Prince Valter teased.
Tolly snapped his teeth at Valter, which prompted a growl from Duke. The human quickly threw his hands up. “Wait. I meant no offence. His Highness knows that.”
Baron scoffed. “Tolliver, please…” he said, rubbing his forehead. “We’re all on edge here.”
“Hey!” Jarrah’s vampire mate windmilled and then dropped to his knees and grabbed the scruffy neck of the wolf at his feet. “Sorry, Quinn, I didn’t mean to ignore you. Hopefully, Artor can provide us with a change of clothes for you. You need lips I can kiss.”
Quinn woofed and licked the vampire’s chin, then spun himself in a circle. He ran to the door and back, taking Jarrah’s hand between his teeth and pulling him toward the door.
“I think that’s our cue,” Jarrah said, leading them from the Red Dragon Inn.
“Who are all these people?” Darvon asked Randall as they anchored the line.
Randall turned in the doorway and paused. “I’ll tell you on the way. We must collect your things and mine and make ready to leave as soon as possible.” He looked off into the distance for a moment. When he returned his focus to Darvon, his gaze softened. “Our mate needs us. Nothing else matters until we have him in our arms.”
So it was true. There was someone else for him, for them. Excitement bubbled beneath his skin, and he quickly nodded. With Darvon’s agreement, Randall snapped, and the brawlers fell to the floor, their cursing and shouting fading as they hurried away.
Chapter 9
Randall
As we strode uphill from the docks, I filled Darvon in. The prince and his mates. Jarrah and his mates. Samantha, Garth, Tolliver, Baron’s son, Duke’s wolves. As we neared the Fae ambassadorial residence, I asked who Sylvan was.
“My seneschal at home. He is my closest advisor, my cousin, and my best friend. I could not have done this journey without him.”
“Why’s that?”
“My forays into the human realm have been limited to the countryside to the east and the forests to the south of my homeland.”
“Into Ivywoods?” We paused outside the gate while he dropped the spell protecting the house against “other” magick. “Have you met Duke before then?”
“His father.” Darvon’s gaze slid away from me. “Long before Duke had been born.”
I pressed my lips together as I followed him through the gate, but I failed to rein in my smile at his discomfort in revealing his age. He was one of the Fae, so I knew he was older than me. Although he looked many years younger, I suspected he had at least two centuries on me. When he finally looked at me again, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Yes, I’m over three hundred of your human years. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five. I’ve lived here in Onamond for seventeen years.”
“Since right after my brother did what he did?” Darvon led me to the front door.
I nodded. “The queen wanted someone here who could teach Valter to use the Fae magick he’d inherited.”
Darvon frowned. “But not one of us… Which makes sense. The king didn’t trust the Fae after that.”
“No.” I touched his arm, ensuring I had his attention when I clarified. “But the queen did.”
My mate sucked in a sharp breath. “Does Jarrah know?”
I shook my head, then tilted it toward the house. “Are we going in?”
Darvon’s expression flitted through several changes before he sighed and opened the door. That he openly showed his emotions surprised me. I’d only made Jarrah’s acquaintance the day before, and since then, he’d only shown a stoic blankness… except when he gazed at his mates.
That stoicism shown on the faces of the two Fae who stood inside.
“Where have you been?” the younger of the two sternly asked, as I noted the whitening of the other Fae’s silver hair at his temples, which neither my mate nor Sylvan had. “I’ve been worried. And mad. How could you—?”
“I’m fine, Sylvan. Well, there was an altercation, but it all worked out.” Darvon took my hand. “I’ve met my mate. This is Randall DeCarin.”
