Page 12 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)

Darvon

The carriage bumped along the road, jostling Darvon about. He gripped the rail with one hand, Randall’s thigh with the other.

“These roads are terrible,” he muttered as he was again thrown about when they hit a deep rut.

Randall chuckled as he transferred the reins to his left hand so that he could wrap his right arm around Darvon’s waist. “Apologies, Your Highness, they’ll smooth out soon.”

Darvon huffed. “Don’t call me that. My status has no bearing between us.”

“We could have just taken the horses. You insisted on the carriage.” Randall stared straight ahead.

Annoyed, he blatantly ignored Randall’s comment.

Why would he—? Darvon subsided. He had been the one to insist, but he’d assumed someone else would be driving it, and he would be sitting in the cushioned interior with his mate at his side.

He’d pictured it so clearly in his mind.

Seated nearly on Randall’s lap, their thighs pressing together, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes.

Randall would lean in… he’d touch Darvon’s chin and cheek, hold him as their lips parted, brushing them together, once…

twice… then deepening into a long kiss from which Darvon never wanted to be parted.

Unless they wanted to pull someone from their bed to drive the carriage, unless they wanted someone else to know where they headed…

Besides, Jarrah thought it best they go alone.

With the carriage. Damn his brother. Randall had agreed quickly, staring Darvon to silence when he would have insisted on their finding someone or pressing one of Duke’s wolves into service, but Jarrah wanted them sent home.

Jarrah… His brother knew more than he’d said, much more, but whatever strings the gods and goddesses were pulling, they were merely their pawns. He could only hope that they survived the coming days.

But first, they needed to find their mate. They’d reach Riverside after midday if they didn’t push the horses too hard. “Do you think he’ll recognize us? Or us him?”

“I’ll know,” Randall rumbled, “and I think you will, too. We’ll be drawn to him. I’m…”

“What?” Darvon asked when Randall hesitated. He frowned, seeing Randall’s tight-lipped expression. “You’re worried.”

“Yes, I…” Randall hesitated again, his shoulders curling forward. Darvon waited impatiently for his explanation. “I’m worried about the state we’ll find him in.”

Stunned by Randall’s admission, Darvon’s voice rose right along with his eyebrows. He gripped Randall’s leg harder. “What do you mean by that?”

Randall glanced at him, drawing his arm from around Darvon to cover the hand on his thigh. “Let me show you.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, and as Randall’s fingers slipped along his, a picture formed in his mind: a burning village, a waterfall, fast-flowing water, a hollowed-out tree. Feelings of hunger, tiredness, of being cold swamped him, causing him to jerk away from Randall.

Darvon gritted his teeth, his gaze darting toward the river they traveled alongside. He barely held back a shout of frustration. “We have to hurry.”

“I know.”

He gestured wildly at the horses. “Give them their head. They can run.”

“No. This pace is slower, but they’ll take us all the way. If they run, we’ll have to rest them more frequently, or worse, we’ll have to switch them out, which will take time, especially if a new team isn’t available.”

Darvon huffed and slumped against the wooden backboard. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and mused on the problem. There had to be some way of speeding their journey. “I could use my magick.”

“So could I, but that would draw attention to us. Let’s not be foolish.”

“Are you calling me a fool! How dare you?” Darvon fumed, turning away from his mate. “We used magick in the capital. How is this any different?”

Randall placed his hand on Darvon’s leg, curling his fingers into a fist. His nails scraped the woolen fabric of Darvon’s cloak. When he spoke, his voice was so low that Darvon had to strain to hear him. “You did not see the man behind you. I feared losing you before we could even meet.”

Randall’s eyes closed, squeezing and tightening the muscles of his forehead and cheeks, and Darvon saw how much Randall cared for him already. It was a heady feeling; enough that he had to grit his teeth and draw in a slow breath to stop himself from gasping.

Darvon’s father showed him plenty of affection; his mother, the queen of the Fae, offered quiet platitudes.

Ever since Jarrah had taken over as their mother’s ambassador, he had given Darvon only tenuous camaraderie whenever they faced their parents.

It hadn’t always been like that, and Darvon only had himself to blame.

He covered Randall’s hand. “You care about me already?”

Gods, why did he have to sound needy, like some toddler seeking Mommy’s affection? He was a grown man of three hundred years. He didn’t need reassurance, but he still watched Randall like a hawk eyes its prey.

In answer, Randall turned his hand over, slotting their fingers together. “From the moment I had my first vision of you this morning.”

“This morning?” Darvon quickly brought his brows down from where they’d risen high on his forehead in surprise and narrowed his gaze. “You’ve only known about me since this morning?”

Randall sighed. “By your question, I’m assuming you had some foreknowledge of me… and yet you never came.”

Darvon sagged. “Some, but only recently. When Jarrah arrived home a month ago, I had my first feeling that I needed to travel east toward Onamond. No, that’s not exactly right.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was the strongest I’d ever felt, and I knew I needed to leave our lands.

I implored Jarrah to take me with him when he left again, and he agreed.

As you heard, he’d already spoken to our mother. ”

“Your mother… the Queen of the Fae?”

“Yes, and he received her permission to bring me, but then, one, didn’t tell me, and two, left without telling me. Originally, I hadn’t planned to bring Sylvan with me, but it seems Fate had a hand in that. Fate seems to be working overtime. Tell me about my brother’s mates.”

Randall chuckled. “So it seems. I can’t, unfortunately, tell you much about them. Things have been… chaotic in the capital since the moment they arrived. I haven’t had a moment where I could relax, too busy scrying for danger, and once I learned of our mate…”

“I wish…” Darvon shifted closer to Randall and wrapped his other hand around his mate’s arm. “I wish I’d known sooner. Perhaps I could have prevented—”

“Doubtful, and I don’t mean that to be disparaging of your power. Your aura is magnificent. We will be a formidable pair when the time comes.”

“Apart we fall, together we rise?”

Randall tilted his head to look at him with a softness Darvon rarely had directed his way, except by his father. “Something like that. My visions and yours have shown that it will take all of us.”

“That one I had when I grabbed Sylvan?” There had been Fae, vampires, wolves, and a dragon, with Randall, Darvon, and Sylvan in the center of it all.

“Yes.”

“Which do you think is Sylvan’s mate? If I had to pick, I’d say one of vampires, but only because I know my friend.” Darvon lowered his voice conspiratorially. “He has fantasies.”

Randall laughed outright at that, his whole body shaking, such that Darvon had to let go. “Fae blood would boost a vampire’s power. But enough talking. I want you to close your eyes and rest.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll need to rest soon as well. Sleep now, and I’ll wake you in a few hours.” Randall put his arm around Darvon’s back and urged him to lie down, to use his thigh as a pillow.

“Fine,” Darvon grumbled, feeling the long travel and excitement of the night catching up with him now that he allowed himself to relax.

He tucked himself into a ball and pulled his cloak securely around him.

“Don’t forget to wake me,” he murmured, curling his fingers around Randall’s thigh as he drew in the scents of his mate, cataloging each one: linen, wool, ground stone, rich soil…