Page 6 of Randall
Unable to escape Darvon’s inquisition, Sylvan sighed. “Jarrah has met one of his mates.”
Mates?“One?”
With Sylvan’s nod, Darvon paced across the room. Mates. Not Fae mates either, otherwise Mother would have had the nuptials announced already. “Did she say who?”
“A wolf named Quinn, from Pack Valen to the south of us… and there’s a vampire, but I didn’t catch a name.” Sylvan hung his head, a faint blush on his cheeks.
Darvon laughed. Sylvan had a “thing” for bloodsuckers. His cousin smiled sheepishly, knowing he’d been caught and waving off Darvon’s teasing. He fell back into his chair. “Well, this puts a new spin on things. Since this ball is to pick husbands and wives for Their Highnesses, and the youngest prince carries Jarrah’s blood, I think we are in for more of an adventure than we originally thought.”
Sylvan’s head snapped up, and he peered at Darvon. “We?”
Darvon steepled his fingers. “Oh, yes. We. Think of all the vampires you’ll get to meet in the High City.”
Sylvan tapped his lips. “When you put it that way… when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Startled, they turned to stare at Sylvar, standing in the doorway. Neither of them had heard the door open.
Darvon rubbed his forehead. So much for sneaking out. “We’re going after my brother.”
“I should hope so. Her Majesty is waiting to speak with you in the throne room.”
“Alright.” Darvon got up and headed out.
Sylvan followed, but his father stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I need a moment with my son.”
Darvon twisted his lips but nodded. “See he starts packing. I won’t be delayed.” He strode from his room, taking his first steps toward his future.
Chapter 4
Randall
“You don’t have to say anything.” I held up my hand, then laughed. It wasn’t like Kat was going to actually talk to me. Other than tripping my wards, I could hear him pounding up the stairs long before he arrived.
“Randall!” Valter leaned over, bracing on his knees, breathless from his run. “They’re so close.” He walked in a tight circle, shaking out his hands. “I’m so nervous. They’re going to like me, right?”
I covered my mouth to hide my smile. Ever since his mates began their travels seven days ago, his anxiety had grown by leaps and bounds. I’d done my best to calm him, and Kat had kept close, offering her body to be petted and loved on. It was hard to tell if she liked it or not, but cats could be queens in their own right, so I assumed if she’d minded, she would have made herself scarce.
“Don’t laugh at me. This is serious.” The Fae-blessed starburst in Valter’s eyes sparkled, belying his earnest tone.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you’re worrying for nothing. You’ve conversed with them over several moons. I’m certain you have them wrapped around your little finger by now.”
“Hmm.” Valter plopped onto my windowsill. Kat leapt into his lap, stretching her neck, begging for scratches. He flashed me a bright grin. “You’re right.” He focused on Kat for a minute before peeking at me, biting the edge of his lower lip. “Um…”
I waited, watching him take a deep breath and straighten his shoulders. He’d grown in confidence over the last two fortnights, surprising both his mother and me. Commander Nasi had even commented on Valter’s poise during his fencing lessons. Valter had always been an excellent student; he’d just had horrid teachers, ones more intent on putting a foot through the palace doors or attempting to get the princesses to notice them. Once allowed to study with the true scholars, Valter turned from a sulky teen into a cordial young adult.
It all started the day his siblings tied him up and cut his hair. That day, Fate opened the mental link between Valter and Duke, and then a day later, to Baron. He looked regal now, straight-backed, dominant, unwavering, except in private moments such as this one.
My left middle finger itched as another person triggered my wards. I extended my senses, retreating once I had my answer. “Tolliver approaches.”
Valter rolled his eyes. I politely held my tongue but wasn’t able to suppress my smile. When I’d been his age, I’d been such a nightmare to my parents and clan that they had shipped me off here, to the castle. They’d only seemed to remember where I was when they needed something from Their Majesties. They couldn’t be denied, but—fuck it—they had feet and wagons. I read their letters, sent succinct replies, and promptly forgot about them until their next missive arrived.
I pushed away thoughts of my family when Tolliver entered. We had a strange love/hate relationship. We both loved Valter like a son, but we hated how the other protected him. Tolliver was all weapons and brute force, while I preferred the more nuanced art of magick. Sadly, Tolliver won in that respect. Valter’s skill with blade and bow far exceeded his skill with weaving spells. However, with Valter’s approaching mates, he proved a more ardent student, wanting to learn at least minor magicks, even though I knew he was capable of so much more.
When Jarrah arrived, I hoped I could convince the Fae to teach Valter. After all, it was his blood running through Valter’s veins.
“There you are,” Tolliver blew out. “How many times have I told you to let me accompany you? You can’t just keep running off.”
