Page 20 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)
Darvon
What has come over me?
Darvon turned away from Randall, his cheeks hot, his heart racing. He’d reacted without thought, first helping the captain and then standing as the man’s champion. If Sylvan had seen, he would have thought Darvon sick or ill of mind.
Yet, he’d never taken the spouted words of the Fae who traveled between the lands to heart, their reports to his mother filled with disdain for the humans.
She’d never countered their claims, which led Darvon to believe she felt the same.
Instead, he listened to his father’s softer, kinder voice.
Never had his father countered his mate, his queen, in public, but behind closed doors, late at night, his father would come to his rooms, and there they spoke earnestly into the wee hours of the morning.
While Darvon was sure his mother knew of and allowed their deep bond, his father assured him she was unaware of what they spoke about. Their father-son time, or whatever term she chose to call it, was sacred, and she never denied them the time together.
Darvon suspected it was because of Jarrah’s relationship with her.
As heir to the throne, their mother had taken Jarrah fully under her wing, leaving Darvon to flutter in the wind once he was old enough not to hold on to her skirts.
How many days had he raged at his brother for stealing their mother’s attention?
How many nights had he cried because she no longer came when he called?
Until the day his father filled the gap.
From that day forward, he hadn’t shed a tear for her.
It was his father’s voice that he heard foremost, and he had told Darvon to respect humans, shifters, vampires, and any others that he should meet.
He was the only one Darvon insisted on seeing before he left, the only one he said goodbye to.
His father was also the only one he’d told about feeling a pull to leave.
To find his mate. He was the only one who deserved to know, except for Sylvan.
“I wish I could take away whatever thought brought this sad expression to your face.” Randall cupped Darvon’s cheek.
Darvon shook his head minutely, unwilling to jar Randall’s touch, forcing a smile onto his face as he glanced at him. “It’s fine.”
His mate smoothed the pad of his thumb across Darvon’s lips. “Your secrets are safe from me for now, but once we are fully mated…”
Darvon grimaced and then shrugged. “I was just thinking about my father. We were… are… close.”
“Ah. You are lucky then.”
“How so?”
“Flynn’s parents gave him to the healer; mine gave me to King Sulter.”
Darvon gasped. “Gave you?”
“I was a problem for the clan, and when Queen Guenevere asked for someone to protect and eventually teach Valter, they sent me.”
Darvon mulled his mate’s confession over for a moment before he said, “I find it hard to believe that you were a problem child. You seem too…”
“Highbrow? Stubborn? Proud? Innocent?” Randall’s lips pressed into a sly smirk.
Darvon rolled his eyes as Randall chuckled. “Problem child… Say no more.”
“Were you not the same? Second in line is a horrible place to be. Forced to always support Jarrah, knowing he’d ascend, and you’d be relegated to some role in his court. I’m certain you drove both your mother and brother crazy with your antics.”
“Sometimes.” Darvon shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you and Flynn all my secrets, but now isn’t the time. Tell me… who was that stranger traveling with the prince and his mates?”
Randall sobered, the small smile he’d worn falling away. He grabbed Darvon’s elbow and walked him out of hearing range from Lanter, and then still leaned close so that he could speak softly in Darvon’s ear. “That was Master Vampire Artor Angenoir of the Midnight Claimed Clan.”
“Another vampire,” Darvon hissed. “Why? Wait…” He held up a hand as everything he’d learned so far fell into line. “He’s the dragon’s mate.”
“Yes. I believe so, too. They are part of the fourth mating, and your Sylvan, the fifth and final.”
Darvon took hold of Randall’s hands. “And all of us are needed to defeat this evil.”
“All of us are needed to break the curse.”
Darvon peered into Randall’s dark brown eyes.
They stared at each other, lost in their thoughts, but together, united.
The curse had started them on this path, leading them to find their mates.
He wasn’t sure whether or not he should be happy about it.
Without it, would Darvon have ever left the Fae realm?
Without this wretched evil striking the land, would Flynn have ever run from his village?
Without this curse, they might never have met.
He lifted Randall’s hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles before stepping closer and lifting his chin.
As Randall bent and fused their mouths together in a kiss that started soft and grew more demanding with each passing moment, Darvon wished Flynn was beside them and that they didn’t have an audience.