Page 23 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)

Darvon

“Well, now…” Darvon said. “Looks like we were right.”

Randall scoffed. “Of course we were.”

Valter’s gaze bounced between Artor and Randall. “Right about what?”

“Mates,” Darvon said simultaneously with Randall, then chuckled as he leaned against him.

“More?” Baron said, wide-eyed.

Darvon narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t Jarrah tell you?

” When Baron shook his head, he debated, glancing at Randall, wondering if he was not supposed to say anything, but his mate’s nudge encouraged him to do so.

“Jarrah told us that there would be five sets of mates. We’re third.

The dragon and his mates, which must include Master Artor, are the fourth. ”

“Who’s the fifth?”

Darvon pressed his lips together as Baron’s sons, Connor, Cormac, and Camron, arrived just then.

The vampiric brothers descended from the fully enclosed driverless carriage—the reins passed through curtains into a cutout so that it could be controlled by someone inside.

They were swathed in dark cloaks with their deep hoods raised, hiding their similar features of jet black hair, high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing dark eyes that Darvon remembered from the night before.

The cloaks didn’t hide their wide shoulders or how tall they were.

Darvon recalled how they were each a head or more taller than he was.

Three brothers for Sylvan. Lucky Fae… but no, Darvon had a handsome mage and a lithe, little cat shifter with a wicked tongue.

He was just as lucky as his cousin. As were Jarrah with his wolf and vampire.

Mother was going to be shocked when they returned.

Or… maybe not. Perhaps she’d seen who, where, and when. He would have to ask her.

Having only met the brothers for a short time following the tavern brawl, he couldn’t be sure who was who, so he listened and watched for clues from the others.

“Any trouble, Connor?” Baron asked as his sons closed in on them.

The brother walking in the front lifted his head enough for Darvon to get a good look at him. He seemed to be the oldest by human years, and so Darvon assumed he was Connor and committed the scar on his cheek to memory. “No, Father. None followed us but the ravens.”

“Where’s my dragon?” Artor asked, breathing hard as he turned, peering from Randall to the road and the woods beyond.

Darvon took in the intent stare and the vampire’s white-knuckled fists and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Down the road a bit, but wait—” He put up his hands when Artor moved. “He’s injured.”

“Injured? My mate is hurt?” Artor stormed closer, gaze darkening, blood red taking over the whites of his eyes. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “How? To what extent?”

“We aren’t sure how bad. Our link to Flynn is tenuous.”

“You haven’t claimed him yet?” Baron asked, a note of surprise in his voice as he approached with his mates and sons. The soldiers remained kneeling, not having yet been released by Valter.

“Not fully,” Randall said. “I sent my raven to check, and he just returned with the news. We debated joining Flynn but thought it best to wait for Artor before heading that way.”

Artor growled, sliding forward, fingers splayed, his nails extending into claws. “You knew about us?”

“No!” Darvon spat, thrusting a hand out and magicking the ground to catch hold of Artor’s feet. He barely contained his surprise at how easily he’d done it. His magick had never welled and leapt to him so quickly before.

Baron caught hold of Artor’s arm when he stumbled. “I think you’d better explain, but before you do that… Valter, get those soldiers moving. Our horses need water and a few handfuls of grain, and you and Duke need to eat.”

Valter nodded, grabbed Duke’s hand, and headed for the humans. Meanwhile, Baron calmed Artor down. Once Artor’s eyes lost their sharp, reddened haze, Darvon released him from the spell, again marveling at how easily his power moved for him. Only one thing had changed—well, two “somethings.”

“Sorry,” Artor muttered, but Darvon waved off the apology.

“Your reaction was understandable. I should have softened the blow.”

“Not sure how you could, but you kept me from running off half-assed. For that I am grateful.” Artor glanced at Baron beseechingly. “I am anxious to go to him.”

“We’ve been on the road all day. Give us a quarter of an hour to rest the horses and for my mates to eat, and then we’ll go.” Baron gripped Artor’s shoulder.

Artor conceded under Baron’s earnest request. He darted over to his horse and opened a pack, pulling out a bottle of…

Darvon would have said red wine, but vampire, so it was probably either blood or blood mixed with wine.

He wrinkled his nose as he watched Artor pull out the cork and took several swallows.

Beside him, Baron chuckled. “I understand the Fae prefer not to eat meat.”

“I do on occasion, but it has to be cooked.”

Randall nudged Darvon’s arm. “And yet your brother ended up with a vampire.”

Darvon sighed. “Jarrah is more worldly than I am. Mother titled him ambassador and sent him out into Obrusa as her emissary while I remained behind, learning how best to support him once he took over the throne.” He smiled slyly at Randall. “I was a terrible student.”

Randall placed his hands on Darvon’s waist and tugged him closer. “I look forward to hearing all about your escapades. We’ll compare notes, though I suspect your list will be far longer than mine, seeing as you have three hundred or so years on me.”

Darvon cocked a hip, opened his eyes wide, and pouted. “I’ll have you know I was a dutiful son. The apple of Mother’s eye.”

Tipping his head back, Randall laughed. “Careful with that bottom lip. I might just snag it.” He made playful chomping motions, but then slid his tongue across his upper teeth and winked.

Unable to resist, Darvon sprang forward.

He grabbed Randall’s tunic and held on as he drove his tongue into Randall’s mouth.

In return, Randall sucked hard, and Darvon’s cock, already at half-mast from their verbal byplay, lengthened quickly.

He rubbed against his mate, feeling his air and earth magick swirl around them.

Leaves and loose grass, along with the dust of the road, twisted in the air and fell in a circle at their feet when Randall softened their embrace and finally pulled away.

“I look forward to the moment when we will all be together and claim each other properly,” Randall murmured.

Darvon hummed, his heart thumping with need. “Yes. I wish the same, but first we must reunite with Flynn and hand over care of the dragon to Artor.”

“And whomever Fate joins them with.”

Darvon drew back. “Another triad… I wonder who their third will be.” Their shared vision hadn’t shown who it might be.

Randall shrugged, then turned toward the soldiers, who were busy preparing for their departure.

One had taken on the task of hitching their horses to the carriage, giving them a little more time together.

It gave him time to think, too, about all of the circumstances that had so far led up to this moment in time.

Leaning into his mate as his gaze swept toward Valter and his mates, Darvon grew curious. “Tell me more about the prince. I only ever heard news about King Sulter and Prince William. You said your parents sent you to the capital after Jarrah gave him a drop of Fae blood.”

“Yes. The queen sent for a tutor, and she got an eighteen-year-old mage full of hormones and spite. I think she regretted that decision for a few years, but by the time Valter was old enough for lessons, I’d found my place with His Majesty, and my calling with the queen.”

“Your calling?”

“Her spy,” Artor said, tapping his ear for effect. “Sorry, bad habit of listening in, but since I was also in her employ…” He lifted a shoulder bearing a cock-sure grin.

“Some spy I was,” Randall bemoaned. “I didn’t know you were hers as well.”

“Your surprise equaled mine.”

“Truly?”

Artor nodded. “She kept us apart. Her Majesty is a very, very smart woman.”

“Yes.” Randall’s gaze slid over to Valter and lingered a moment before returning to Artor.

Darvon felt like a third wheel in the conversation, but there was no way he was leaving.

These bits of truth filled in many of the blank spaces of Randall’s history.

Perhaps there might even be something to discover as to why or how this new evil infiltrated their country.

Randall laced their fingers together, drawing Darvon’s attention. “Her Majesty told me that Queen Kaylani paid her a visit on the eve of her marriage. She had a vision and gifted Queen Guenevere with a magick-sensing amulet.”

“True,” Artor confirmed, then continued, “What she didn’t tell you was that Jarrah’s ‘blessing’ was planned.”

“What?” Valter shouted. “My mother knew!” He stepped between them and faced Artor, pointing an accusatory finger at the vampire. “The truth. Now.”

Artor placed a hand over his heart and bowed. “Your Highness, I’m not sure…”

“Now, Artor.”

Artor sighed. “Very well. On the eve of your parents’ marriage, the Queen of the Fae asked for a private audience with Her Majesty.

Back then, I spied for the safety of my clan.

With all the royalty in attendance for the marriage, I wanted to ensure no one had any ill intentions towards us.

I was like a bug on the wall, clinging outside her window, listening, but I’d forgotten how powerful the Fae are, and so was caught. ”

He stared at Darvon. “I don’t know what your mother saw in me, but she chose to trust me.

She foresaw a great evil taking over the land, and only with the aid of many, including the queen’s youngest child—which is mind-blowing when one hasn’t even lain with their spouse—would the evil be banished.

Queen Guenevere took me into her confidence, and I became her spymaster, and from sunset to sunrise, my clansmen were her spies.

Randall, through the king, took over during the daylight hours. ”

Darvon felt Randall tense beside him. He glanced around the clearing, noting the soldiers standing ready, the horses stomping their hooves, and he grew apprehensive.

He wanted to go. The dragon needed help, and Flynn…

When Darvon thought of his mate, his breath caught.

Flynn needed them. Their mate was an anxious ball of nerves, waiting for their arrival.

The thread of their bond pulsed. They needed to end this conversation and move out.

Randall seemed not to notice Darvon’s increasing agitation as he crossed his arms and huffed. “Obviously, I was not so much in her confidence that she informed me of you. I believed I was acting alone for her benefit, and that of the king and kingdom.”

“That was neither my decision nor want.” Artor took a few steps toward Randall. “Many times I asked for your inclusion—not knowing I had it—but each time she said no, that I must wait. It wasn’t the right time.”

“And now it is,” Valter said, clinging to Baron’s arm with Duke pressed up against their backs. “Now we work together to save Obrusa.”

Silent nods all around before Artor broke the thick tension. “Could we maybe get on with saving my mate first?”

Finally…

Darvon took a breath, pleased to see where Artor’s priorities lie.