Page 90 of Honorable Convictions
“Seems fair, I’m not ever going to stop calling you Blondie.”
“They’re cute, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Now let’s go, Con, we’re already late.”
They followed the Reverent Knights out, and Mitchell had to let Pierson go to his office without comment. Once he was in his space, his phone rang, and he distractedly answered.
“JK Brooks.”
“Good afternoon, this is High King Rafe D’Vairedraconis. I hope you don’t mind me calling you. I’m not sure you remember me, but I was told that you handled the case against the former King Kestle and his son.”
“Your Highness, I absolutely don’t mind hearing from you, and I remember the case well. What can I do for you?” The co-ruler of the only High Court in the dragon world had spent months confined and tortured by his father, King Kestle, and his brother, Duke Sullivan. Mitchell had not lost any sleep over sentencing both men to death. High King Aleksander, the man first selected by Fate to rule D’Vaire, had caused shockwaves throughout the Council after it was announced that he’d met his mate.
Once thought cursed by idiots, Aleksander was now a famous recluse whose handsome face made him the subject of gossip shows. Those same entertainers now found ways to bring up the leaders and were always looking for photos of the ridiculously good-looking pair. Mitchell himself might’ve drooled if they’d lived up to the stunning visage of a certain blond that no one held a candle to.
“You can just call me Rafe. Well, as you know, the son of the Reverent Knights lives here with us, which has made them family for years. I confess we tend to spread news, and we got some inside word that you’re having a mating ceremony tomorrow in DC. I hope you don’t mind; it was supposed to go no further than one of our talented artists here, but good luck with that, I say. I can’t get into the why without spoiling anything myself, but when I heard about the two of you, a quick conversation started about all the wonderful ways you and your mate have impacted the D’Vaires—both the immediate and extended clan, including the RKs, the Darays, and the Draconises. We were hoping you’d let us throw you a bit of a celebration after your ceremony here at our home.”
Mitchell jumped to his feet so fast he rammed into his desk. “Ow. Um, do you mind if I talk to Pierson?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to say yes or no without talking to your mate. Feel free to call me back at your earliest convenience or text if you prefer.”
“I’ll call you; I promise.”
They said good-bye and Mitchell disconnected; then he sprinted to Pierson’s office, only to find him gossiping with Peter. With a roll of his eyes, he slapped Peter’s shoulder.
“Get lost, Malcolmson. I need to talk to Blondie.”
“Have you ever asked him how he feels about that nickname? You need to work on strengthening your relationship, so you don’t wind up enemies again.”
“Thanks for the advice, now would you go away?”
“Fine,” he said, getting up. Mitchell shoved him out the door, which he slammed and locked to prevent Peter from returning.
“What’s wrong?”
Mitchell rehashed the High King’s invitation. “What do you think?”
“Wow.”
“We’re going to go, right?”
“Absolutely. Tomorrow is going to be incredible.”
“Wait until I get you alone,” Mitchell retorted, tugging Pierson into his arms and sealing their mouths together.
Chapter 41
Pierson had anticipated nervousness as he stood in a courtyard with cobblestones under his feet. It was traditional for people to be united in a simple shirt and pants with a cloak over it, but that wasn’t what he and Mitchell had decided on. Although it’d preclude them from seeing their mating marks immediately following the words that would put them on their skin, they chose to wear their uniforms. Being a Juris Knight was too much a part of who they were to set it aside for the most important minutes of their immortal lives.
Going with instinct, he held out a hand to Mitchell, who took it while Teverild’s camera flashed. The tattooed elf was all business and had apologized profusely for his short window of time, but Pierson doubted it would take the whole thirty minutes. Although they’d tried the entire week to locate someone to officiate for them, Pierson could no longer imagine anyone else but the two smiling Reverent Knights who worked so hard each day to rule the Order of the Fallen Knights. They were honor personified, and their love was legendary—Pierson hoped some of that magic would touch him and Mitchell to prevent them from tearing apart their future the way they’d done with their past.
But as he stared into the often-changeable blue eyes of Mitchell, there was affection and determination. They’d need both to last for eternity, and Pierson was devoted to their cause.
“You ready, Blondie?”
“Absolutely.”
“Would you like to get started?” Drystan asked.
