Page 105 of Foundling

With one last kiss, Leita pulled herself away, Ondra accompanying her down through the palace.

Now that matters seemed to finally be going Leita’s way, Charis didn’t think it necessary for her to bring along a whole unit of guards wherever she went outside the palace. Marcades had vociferously disagreed, and so a compromise of a triad was struck. She and Ondra picked up the three guards in the front courtyard, the triad falling a set distance behind as instructed.

Leita wanted to be protected, yes, but she didn’t want to intimidate. Her guards weren’t meant to mete out violence on the people. Keeping them further back was a signal to the fae of Fallorian that Leita trusted them and that they should trust her in return.

That’d been Charis’s argument, at least in the last council meeting. While Leita agreed, Marcades and even Attalus somewhat had been holdouts. Only after agreeing to the triad had they been mollified.

As they walked down the gentle slope of the front courtyard to the gates, Leita spotted a white unicorn resting under a yew tree.

Care to join us? she asked Thalia.

You know the cobblestones feel awful on my hooves. Besides, isn’t the objective not to intimidate your people? Bringing along Thalia the Moonchaser might not communicate that.

Leita grinned. I suppose you’re right. You’re far too intimidating.

Very true. But, if you want to be useful, be a dear and bring back some apples.

Very well, mama mare. You know this palace is at your behest.

Thalia bid her farewell and settled down in the shade again. While she stayed within the palace, Leita saw less of her lately. Thalia had never liked the indoors and certainly not the nest of stone corridors and stairwells that made up the palace. The outdoor spaces were her domain, and Leita had spotted Thalia and Attalus cavorting in several of the pavilions.

Perhaps it’d be good to restore the palace stables next. Built for unicorns, it was meant to be a grand space filled with all the things needed to make dread-mounts and mares comfortable.

Yes, Leita liked that idea.

Turning to Ondra, she said, “Remind me to talk to Tamerlan when we return about refurbishing the stables.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

That settled, their little party headed down into the city.

Although it was midsummer, the sea kept the worst of the heat at bay. Breezes blew up from the harbor, gusting down the long, narrow streets of Fallorian. Bright flowers and banners swayed in the gentle breeze, and the whitewashed walls inset with coral and abalone shells positively shone under the late-morning sun.

For the first time, Leita realized that this place was beautiful. Different from the forests and the foothills and the beaches, yes, but beautiful in its own right. Built with fae hands over millennia, the city had been crafted to suit the many tastes and needs of thousands. The river might carve a mountainside or prairie, but it was the fae who shaped streets and erected buildings to rival the sky.

It made her…proud.

The weight inside her twinged, as though pleased to hear it.

Through the lively streets they went, more people than Leita had ever seen out and about in Fallorian. She’d heard from Lady Idrisil that more families were returning from the hinterlands, reopening boarded-up houses. Fallow fields outside the city were newly plowed, and hundreds of households now kept gardens.

The mills had been restored, their great millstones creaking to life once more. The hot ovens of bakeries, potteries, and forges burned throughout the day, the sound of industry a new melody within the city. Shops were beginning to fill with goods to sell—and customers to buy them. There was talk of reopening the university next year, and the archives had been opened to the public for the first time in centuries. Dozens of ships sat in harbor while dozens more sailed out to sea, destined for Dyfan Bay and the trade routes burgeoning along its coasts.

The fae were coming back to life after centuries of cruel dormancy, and it filled Leita’s heart to see it.

If this was what it meant to be Queen, then she could surely bear it.

In one of the lower tiers of the city, they left the main promenade, passing through a great coral archway into the revived merchant district. Along this arterial road, another right found them at the entrance of a beautiful city square, a fountain trickling water at its center with a crowd waiting for them gathered round it.

At the sight of Leita, several fae raised their hands in greeting. “My Queen, welcome!”

The triad took up posts around the square as Leita and Ondra met the merchants and craftspeople. Remembering Charis and Lady Idrisil’s advice, Leita patiently accepted each of the greetings, allowing her hand to be kissed and her praises sung. While it might still make her flush, she thought she was getting—if not used to it then—

A sharp pain struck her deep as something slid between her ribs. She cried out in surprise, not sure what had hit her.

The faces around her went ashen and slack.

Something beside her moved, and Leita threw out her hand, magic welling up to defend her.