“Is anyone truly surprised?” Fausti asked, bowing regally at a passing foxling. “What ruler wouldn’t want General Segreti residing in their realm? The Soldati have always been very clever.”
A pretty foxling carrying a stack of books almost as tall as he was raced toward them. He tripped on a tree branch, the books flying out of his hands as he stumbled forward.
“I’ve got the books,” Basso and Coiro called out in unison.
Fausti caught the foxling before he could hit the ground. “And I’ve caught this enchanting creature.”
The foxling blinked up at him before narrowing his eyes. “You may put me down now.”
Everyone snickered, and Fausti laughed as he helped the foxling to his feet. The foxling’s hands were white, fading into fair skin, his hair sandy, and his eyes big and dark. A fennec foxling. He was a tiny little thing, but by the looks of him, quite fierce.
“If not your thanks, may I at least have your name?” Fausti asked cheerfully, earning himself a glower.
“Sansone.”
“And where are you off to in such a hurry, Sansone?”
Sansone sniffed, his chin lifted high. “That is none of your concern, Orso.”
Segreti held back a smile. It would seem young Sansone wasn’t a fan of the Orso. Segreti couldn’t blame him. Not after the pain Pavoni had brought to his home. Foxlings were very protective of their own, and once wronged, were not easy to appease. Earning their trust was quite the endeavor.
“You’re right,” Fausti replied, his smile wide. “Forgive my boldness. I was simply struck by your beauty.”
Sansone rolled his eyes. “I’m certain. Now, if you’ll give me my books, I’ll leave you all to your skulking. Or whatever it is Orso do.”
“Ouch.” Fausti placed a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
Segreti chuckled at Sansone’s uninspired expression. The foxling was having none of Fausti’s charm. Basso and Coiro handed the foxling his stack of books.
“May I at least help you with your books?”
“No.” Sansone made to leave but turned to Segreti and nodded. “General.” Before he took off again.
Fausti shook his head in amusement. “Such a captivating creature.”
“At least he doesn’t hate Segreti,” Lazzari pointed out with a laugh.
Fausti’s lopsided grin said he wasn’t offended by the foxling’s abrasive response. In fact, he seemed even more intrigued, following the foxling with his gaze until Sansone had disappeared into the crowd. “Visiting the Soldati realm is always such a feast for the senses. I particularly approve of all the lovely creatures.”
“Come,” Vestri said. “Let’s find a table and enjoy some of this lovely Soldati hospitality. I hear Nestore has once again provided his famous fruit wine.”
They headed for a table not far from one of the many food tents, but far enough away to provide a little privacy. Basso and Coiro went off to fetch them all wine as they took their seats at the round wooden table.
“I hope you’ve all been keeping yourselves out of mischief.” Segreti gave Fausti a pointed look, making his friend laugh loudly.
“Why do you always look at me? I’m not the only one who gets up to mischief. Just the other day, Lazzari was nearly knocked unconscious by one of Queen Verity’s ladies in waiting.”
Segreti arched an eyebrow at Lazzari, who frowned and rubbed his head.
“I still have a bump.”
“What did you do?” Segreti narrowed his gaze. Lazzari had a certain reputation, one that involved being a little too forward.
“All I did was comment on how lovely her gown looked.”
Fausti snorted. “Yes, while staring at her ample bosom.”
“I couldn’t help it. It was right there!”
Segreti shook his head. “One of these days, your lechering will get you in over your head.” Segreti had warned Lazzari countless times over the centuries.
“Especially now,” Gori said, shaking his head. “So many new rules. It’s hard to keep up with them.”
Fausti bristled, his smile falling away for the first time. “You prefer to have a tyrant’s rules? Ones he’d make up at his whim when it suited him?”
Gori held up his hands in surrender. “Forgive me, my friend. I meant no dishonor toward our queen. I’m not suggesting Pavoni—”
Fausti spit on the grass at the mention of Pavoni’s name, and Segreti placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s arm. There had been no love lost between Fausti and Pavoni. He was yet another of the bastard’s victims. Fausti might not have had a choice in serving his king, but he’d despised Pavoni with every fiber of his being.
“Let’s speak of more pleasant things,” Vestri suggested. “Khalon is a most fortunate king, isn’t he? Imagine being gifted with such a young and beautiful mate.”
Fausti perked up and nodded his agreement. “Not even half a century old! I can’t fathom it.”
“Yes, well, let’s not forget the prince was born and raised among humans,” Lazzari added.
“He might have been born and raised by humans,” Segreti said, “but make no mistake, he’s powerful and will protect his king at all costs.” Vestri lifted a questioning brow, and Segreti quickly cleared his throat. “Not that Khalon needs protecting.”
“As pretty as the prince may be, I would not wish for such a mate. Far too much upkeep. Plus, he’s a Sauger.” Fausti waggled his eyebrows. “Can’t get into trouble when your mate is a prophet.”
They all laughed, then cheered when Basso and Coiro returned with their tankards of wine. Segreti thanked them for his and took a sip. The Soldati truly did know how to feast.
“What of the king’s second?” Gori asked. “His mate is a foxling.”
Vestri shook his head in wonder. “A foxling Soldati. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“He’s far too delicate for my taste,” Lazzari said with a grunt. “I’d fear crushing him in my sleep.”
Gori grinned wickedly. “Or during some other bedroom activity.”
Most of the others agreed. Fausti glanced at Segreti, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, before speaking up. “There’s the king’s healer. He—”
“No,” Segreti growled. “There will be no talk of the healer.”
“And why might that be?” Vestri asked, studying him.
Segreti fought the urge to punch the smug grin off Vestri’s face.
“Perhaps the general has eyes on the healer for himself,” Gori said with a knowing smile.
“Watch your tongue,” Segreti warned.
“Why do you not make a claim on him?” Fausti asked, curiosity filling his warm brown eyes.
“The Soldati do not claim mates in the same manner as the Orso.”
Orso mating was simple. When a warrior found a potential mate, he made a claim. If the claim was accepted by the intended and no other Orso challenged said claim, the mating would be presented to the queen for blessing. Once the blessing was given, the mates would bond, and it was done. Mates were chosen on several factors, from strength to virility. Sentiment rarely factored into the process.