Page 27 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)
Flynn
How surreal to be traveling in the direction he’d just come from, but now on land, warm and dry, clothed, in his human form… Flynn snuggled against Randall’s warm body as his mate drove the carriage toward Riverside.
Wasn’t it just a day ago he’d floated by the docks, hiding behind the log he’d attached himself to, submerged until the water tickled his nose?
He’d wished he could have snuck his nose all the way under with the overwhelming smell of rotting fish mixed with the acrid stench of urine and tar rolling off the docks.
He was leagues downriver before he felt like he’d washed off the filth of the city.
Flynn hoped that on land the odors would be more tolerable. How humans could live amid those kinds of smells spoke of how poor their olfactory senses were. Unlike shifters, and maybe…
“Randall…”
“Hm…”
“How’s your sense of smell? I’m thinking it’s not as good as mine. Or any shifter. Do vampires have keen senses? How about the Fae?”
“Slow down, mate.” Randall chuckled, transferring the reins to one hand so he could put an arm around Flynn.
“I kinda want to shift and drape myself over your lap, but I also want to talk to you. I have so many questions.” Flynn bounced a little in his seat, but not enough to jar Randall’s arm.
“Like our sense of smell?”
“Eh… my mind just went there because I was remembering how stinky Riverside was when I went by.” Flynn scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue. “Blah. How can humans live like that?”
“Because they don’t have the keen noses you shifters and vampires do.”
“The Fae, too, to a degree,” Darvon added, “and you’re more than welcome to ride with me.” He patted his thigh, but Flynn didn’t think riding double on a horse would be comfortable, even if he was plastered to his mate.
“I’m good.” Flynn scooched even closer to Randall and hugged him. “Our mage is deliciously warm.”
Darvon laughed and nodded before tugging on the reins of Artor’s horse, falling back to speak with Captain Lanter. Flynn turned an ear in their direction, but instead of Darvon, he caught the conversation going on inside the carriage between Timur and Artor.
“A cursed goddess? Surely you jest?”
“I wish, but it’s the truth. It’s why we’ve been plagued by this brewing evil.”
“But why now? Why did it—or whoever is behind this—take seventeen years to attack?”
“If I knew… but I’m just as in the dark as you are. Jarrah might know.”
“Prince Jarrah of the Fae… He visited Wintervale many times. I often wondered why he came so often, but if he’s involved, his visits make more sense.”
Flynn froze. Prince Jarrah… He, too, had met the traveling prince.
At least once a year, the Ambassador of the Fae would turn up in their village, stay for a night or two, and then move on.
Flynn had always thought it strange that someone of nobility would seek him out and ask about his training, and not once or twice, but every single year for as long as he could remember.
He was a nobody, just a lowly herbal apprentice to his master.
Randall’s grip tightened around Flynn. “What’s wrong? You got very tense all of a sudden.”
Flynn peered into his mate’s curious dark gaze, getting momentarily lost in the swirls of dark and light brown before remembering he’d been asked a question. “Do you know Prince Jarrah, too?”
Randall’s eyes widened. “I do,” he replied slowly. So slowly, in fact, that he put Flynn on edge. “He’s… Hold on.” He looked over his shoulder and called to their mate. “Darvon!”
The quick clip-clop of hooves on the hard-packed stone and dirt road preceded Darvon’s arrival. He rode up beside them, keeping pace on Flynn’s side of the carriage. “You called?”
Randall breathed in and let it out on a sigh. Flynn giggled. Yes, their mate was gorgeous. His silver hair still hung in the long braid that Flynn had done. His bright blue eyes sparkled, and when he smiled, Flynn’s breath caught.
“Randall? Did you need something?”
Randall jolted. “Yes. Yes, I… uh…”
Flynn poked him. “Jarrah.”
Randall shuddered and then coughed lightly. “It seems your brother has gotten around. Both Timur and Flynn have had the privilege of his company.”
Darvon’s brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes, his gaze flitting between Flynn and the carriage where Timur rode inside. “What are you insinuating?”
“Randall!” Flynn blurted when he realized what Randall had said and what Darvon took away from it.
He tossed his hands up and rolled his eyes.
“Sheesh.” He faced Darvon as he explained, “I… accidentally… overheard Timur tell Artor that Prince Jarrah had visited him. Since he also made yearly pilgrimages to my clan, I asked Randall if he’d met the prince, too.
I guess I should have asked you, seeing as you’re Fae, but he was right here, so… ”
“Ah.” Darvon relaxed. “That’s fine then. Randall has met him, as have every noble house in Obrusa, and I know Jarrah personally. He’s my older brother.”
“Your older brother… So that makes you… No…” Flynn’s mouth dropped open. “Goddess… should I bow or something?”
“No!” Randall shouted.
“Absolutely not,” Darvon stated. “If you feel the need to bow…” He pointed at the small human riding between the vampire and wolf shifter. “That’s Prince Valter.”
Flynn stared at the man currently being doted on by his mates. “That’s Prince Valter? I thought he’d be taller.”
Randall slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Darvon did not. He threw back his head and laughed loud enough that the birds in the trees took flight. His horse side-stepped in surprise, and it took a few moments for Darvon to get him under control.
Valter swung his horse toward them. “Everything alright, Randall?” he asked, his gaze taking in Randall and Darvon before stopping on Flynn.
“Greetings, Flynn. I’m Valter. Those two are my mates.
Baron is the one in the deep cloak. Duke is the shaggy one you tackled earlier.
Well done, by the way. And this lovely lady is Kat.
” He tilted his head toward his saddlebag where a black cat had poked its head out.
“Your Highness.” Flynn bowed as low as he could, chest to his thighs.
“Enough of that. I’m the second spare, and I don’t care… unless I don’t like you.” Valter let out a bark of laughter. “Like my brother’s stuck-up seneschal. What a pr—”
The vampire, who’d ridden up behind Valter, cleared his throat, interrupting the prince. “Valter.”
Valter glared at his mate. “You ruined all my fun, Baron.”
“You say ruin, I say protect you from yourself.”
“There’s nobody here but friends,” Valter groaned, and Flynn smiled to hear not only the whine in the prince’s voice but at being called a friend.
It wasn’t true yet, but he could see it.
They were close in age and definitely the youngest of those present.
Flynn was excited at the prospect of getting to know Valter better.
“Darvon,” Flynn said, an idea forming. “Let me ride the horse, and you can sit with Randall.”
Darvon kept his horse trotting beside the carriage as he looked over at Flynn. “Why?”
“So I can ride with Valter.” Flynn stuck out his bottom lip and batted his eyes. “Please.”
“Randall, I just want you to know, we’re in trouble.” Darvon guided his horse beside the carriage, pushed to stand on the saddle, and then jumped from horse to carriage.
Randall chuckled. “I know.”
Flynn repeated the maneuver from carriage to horse easily thanks to his feline agility.
By the time he was seated, Valter was beside him, and they pushed ahead to ride in front of the carriage.
Elation coursed through him. He couldn’t wait to hear all about living in the capital and learning how Valter had met his unusual mates.