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“Aha, survival of the fittest. The traits that help you survive get passed on to the next generations, but the ones that are undesirable get bred out of the population.”

Revel squinted one eye at me. “And you say you weren’t popular in school?” he asked wryly.

I shrugged. “Not ashamed of being bookish. Always found reading far more interesting than conversing with people. Now, about that jump. Do you really think you can make it? Maybe you should take a practice run without me on your back.”

“Don’t need to. Jumped this river plenty of times.” He turned his back toward me and crouched down. “We’re wasting time.”

“Fine. I will hold perfectly still.” I climbed up, wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his. The short, sharp intake of breath had not come from me. His big hands reached back and wrapped around my thighs, pulling my legs up around his waist. I rested my face against his back. Even knowing we were about to jump a dangerous river, I felt safe. I always felt safe with Revel.

Revel paused for a second.

“Have you lost your nerve?” I teased.

He released a long breath. “Nope, just my usual reaction whenever you touch me, Whisper. Hold still,” he growled.

I closed my eyes, pressed my face against his hard back and froze every muscle. I could feel the spray of water and the cool air as we arced up and over the river. Revel landed with a gentle thud on the other side.

I pried open my eyes. “We did it!”

He glanced back with a lifted brow. “Yeah. We did.”

He released my legs, and I scrambled down from his back. “You knew we’d make it, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. “There was a fifty-fifty chance.” He picked up the sacks and lumbered toward the donkeys.

I followed briskly behind. “What do you mean fifty-fifty? Those aren’t great odds for jumping over a river.”

“Then it’s a good thing we beat ‘em. Never liked the idea of death by drowning.”

“It seems we have that in common.”

Revel transferred the sacks to one hand and picked up the donkeys’ ropes with the other. “Lead the way, Whisper. It’s going to be harder for me with all these sacks.”

“Want me to take one?”

“No, it’ll be fine. Go on. We’ll be right behind.”

My third pass through the uncomfortably narrow passage went easier than the first two. I was anxious to get back to Norvale, back to the dragons. I stepped free from the narrow shale walls and into the dank, acrid smelling air of Ironfall Wilds. My partner was still inside cussing and grunting as he made his way through.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my bride-to-be?” A smooth, deep and melodic sounding voice drifted around the clearing. Seconds later, a man appeared, a stunning man at that. His features were so fine and symmetrical he was impossibly beautiful, like something from an artist’s pen. Velvet gray eyes looked out from flawless golden skin. There was no sunshine in the clearing, yet his long brown hair seemed to glisten in light. He was long and lean, but his tight breeches showed well-muscled thighs. A dark blue velvet waistcoat was adorned with gold brocade.

“Who are you?” I asked, though I had an inkling.

“Granier,” Revel said curtly behind me. He emerged with the donkeys but had left behind the sacks. A strategic and smart decision, because Prince Granier was the future leader of the Solamites, a region that saw to the destruction of the Valian lion’s bane. Granier was also one half of my fated mates.

Prince Granier’s smile came right out of a toothpaste commercial. I could almost see sparkles on his white teeth. “Greyhart, I suppose I should have guessed they’d put you in charge of her.” Arrogance practically flowed from his pores, and he didn’t seem the least bit fearful of the massive Valian warrior.

I stepped forward angrily and with a plan. “No one is in charge of me, and I don’t know who you think I am, but you’ve got the wrong girl.”

“You’re Raphael Willow,” he said smoothly. “We’ve been fated to each other since your birth.” He looked me up and down. “Prettier than I expected but then your grandmother was a Solamite.”

I crossed my arms. “Nope, my name is—is Nancy. Wrong girl.”

Revel came up next to me. “Like she says—wrong girl.”

Granier smiled. “Rossi!” Even his yell was smooth as cream.

I’d heard the name before but couldn’t remember where until a sweet little girl emerged from the trees. “Rossi, who is this woman?”