At least his head had stopped hurting.
He squinted at the art, antiques, and lush fabrics around the penthouse master bedroom, noting similarities with the lodge’s deluxe amenities as well as areas in which the luxury and comfort Shifter Frontiers offered guests could be improved. His nose wrinkled at the heavy perfume of blooming roses that filled his nostrils. More fresh flowers. His dad had been pressuring him to expand the greenhouse, but Arit had balked, arguing the stench of floral arrangements overloaded and numbed the sense of smell for hunting. He resented the few bunches of flowers adorning the guest rooms, as it was. He scowled.
Maybe Dad was right. Shifters in the city seemed to like and expect the extravagance.
Limbs heavy, Arit pushed to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he stared with fierce longing at the roomy, tiled shower, but he returned to the bedroom in search of clean clothing. He desperately wanted to scrub off the travel grunge still clinging to him but needed to find his mate more. Discovering his clothes hanging in a closet next to Nick’s finery, Arit snatched a lodge polo from a hanger and a pair of freshly ironed blue jeans. A bureau drawer yielded socks and bikini briefs. Arit stripped, shoving into a hamper the clothes he’d slept in. He tugged on the clothing he’d piled on the mussed bed. If Nick needed to go out, Arit supposed he might have to opt for the single dress shirt and vest he owned to accompany the prince, but he wouldn’t rush the discomfort of more formal attire until and unless he had to.
Dressed, he lurched to the bathroom to brush his teeth and combed the knots from his hair, weaving it into a single braid to get his hair out of his way. Glaring at his reflection in the mirror, he judged he’d wasted as much time as he dared. He turned to the door.
“You’re awake,” Nick said, voice warming in the suite’s massive den. He stood at a wall of windows, the skyscrapers of the city his backdrop, and beside him, a table that seated eight laden with food and littered with laptops.
Benjic bit into a fat sandwich, roast beef if the crude excess of flowers hadn’t muddied Arit’s sense of smell too much. Benjic tapped at the keyboard of a laptop with a free hand and grunted around the food in his mouth at Arit in acknowledgment. Arit recognized the shifter sitting opposite Benjic from news reports as another council elder, from one of the tribes in the southern plains if Arit remembered right, and Benjic’s older capitol son Harr sat next to their sire. Another man at the table was a member of Arit’s security team, as well as two of the guards stationed at the penthouse’s entry.
The rest of the crowd, Arit didn’t know, and his wolf bristled at the strangers in his territory, near his mate.
Except this wasn’t his territory. The Urals were miles behind them, so far home might as well have been on another planet. At least Arit knew the foreign world in which he now moved had one thing he needed. “Coffee,” he said, the word still husky with sleep.
“I’ll get it.” One of the men at the table hopped up and streaked to a sidebar graced by an ornate coffee service. “Sit, Your Highness. Eat.”
Arit’s brows beetled.
“Deban was talking to you. Acclimating to formal designations and address will come with practice,” Nick said, tone amused. He waved at the vacated chair. “Please. You must be starving.”
His Highness? Crossing his arms over his chest, Arit glowered though his mouth watered at the rich scent of the coffee Deban poured. “I told you I lacked his gift to lead.” He jerked his chin at his sire. “I won’t be co-regent. Prince Consort will do.”
His sire harrumphed.
Arit dropped into the empty chair. “If you don’t like it, too bad. You should’ve mated the crown prince to him.” He frowned at the younger half-brother he’d never met face to face, though Arit had heard of him through news reports and gossip columns. Harr shared Benjic’s coloring, black streaking the mottled hair at his ears like Arit, but his brother’s nose was sharper, his mouth wider, traits he probably had inherited from his capitol mother along with her thinner frame. Harr had outfitted himself like every other city shifter Arit had seen so far, his shirt with nary a wrinkle, the vest over it intricately embroidered. He wore dress pants, not jeans, and shoes with a glossy shine rather than boots. Arit tried not to resent the classy package Harr presented…and failed. “You’d have made a better partner for a prince.”
Harr laughed. “Not a chance. Janen would kill anyone who threatened her claim on me as her mate.” His mouth quirked. “You aren’t the only child of Benjic to crave an alpha in his bed. Besides, I’m a beta.” He smiled at Nick. “I doubt no less than another alpha would’ve triggered a mating heat in His Highness.”
Nick chuckled. “True.”
Brows furrowing, Arit glared at Benjic, though. “Spilling my secrets?” Anger unfurled in his belly. “To him?”
“To them. Not just Harr. All of my children with Katya are rabidly curious about their mysterious older brother in the Urals.” Benjic rolled his eyes. “Any details I gleaned from Emyn about you, your life, or what you like were treasures they prized while they were growing up.”
“Yet you isolated me from your capitol family.” Arit grimaced. “Ensured we remained strangers to each other.”
“Out of respect for your dad and Katya, yes, I kept my children apart.” Benjic shrugged. “It was a mistake.”
Harr nudged his sire with a shoulder. “He excels at them.” He shoved a hand forward to shake Arit’s hand. “Since he won’t properly introduce us, I’ll do the honors. I’m your half-brother, Harr. Lorat, Denai, Zanderik, and Keegan are eager to meet you as soon as you’re ready and a break in your obligations at events for the memorial allow.”
“Which reminds me.” Nick placed a printout in front of Arit as, dumbfounded, Arit shook his half-brother’s hand. “Your schedule.”
“I have a schedule?” Arit pursed his lips in distaste. “Won’t I accompany you?”
“Wherever he goes, you won’t be far,” Benjic said, highlighting text on his laptop. “His Highness, however, has official duties to perform and meetings to attend in which the presence of mates would be inappropriate or awkward, given how early in your mating your bond is. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging events for you nearby. Nothing elaborate, just luncheons, informal meet and greets with elders as well as capitol power brokers you should know.”
“Great,” he grumbled. Warming his hands on the mug the one called Deban had passed to him, Arit ignored his sire and glared at Deban instead. “Who are you?”
“Belia’s mate,” the shifter said, nodding at the elder from the southern plains on the other side of the table. He reached around Arit to close and retrieve one of the laptops cluttering the table. “And his assistant.”