Page 109 of Foundling

“Ondra’s quarters are being searched as we speak,” Marcades announced from where he guarded the open chamber door.

“I will inform the relevant houses and duana-daínya. Someone will know something,” said Charis, a hardness in her voice.

Even in his anger, Attalus could agree with that. They needed answers swiftly to catch possible co-conspirators.

The idea of a wider plot against his mate set Attalus to rumbling again.

“You’re mending well,” the chief healer declared. “Please keep us informed of your pain, and don’t hesitate to drink the poppy milk should you need it.”

“Thank you.” Leita stood as the elders made to leave, and with a nod, Charis and Tamerlan followed them out.

Attalus could breathe a little easier without all the bodies crowded round Leita, but he wasn’t satisfied. Not until he slammed the chamber door shut in Marcades’s face. He could guard just as well out there.

“Was that necessary?” asked Leita.

“Yessss,” he hissed, stalking back across the chamber to her.

Leita’s brows rose when he corrected course and marched into the closet. He chose a soft nightgown and robe, bringing both out to her. With gentle hands, he helped her change, tossing aside the ruined, bloody clothes.

“I liked those,” she muttered.

“We’ll get you ten more, then.”

With her clean and comfortable again, he scooped her up and made for their bed, stepping onto it and walking up the length before settling down against the headboard. He gathered her blanket and tucked it around her, creating as much of a nest for them as he could.

With his mate secure in his arms and as comfortable as he could make her, Attalus allowed himself one deep breath.

“Are you all right, agae?” he asked, wrestling his voice into something gentler. His anger wasn’t for her and could be saved for those who deserved it. Right now, she needed reassurance, comfort.

Her sigh buffeted his scales, and his hearts ached to feel her nuzzle into his chest.

“No.”

Attalus crooned unhappily, hands running up and down her flank. He didn’t dare press on the wound-that-wasn’t yet couldn’t feel anything amiss. “Does it pain you?”

“Not like you mean. It hurts here.” She laid a hand across her chest.

“Oh, agae.” He lifted her hand to kiss the back and then the palm.

“I thought…she and I were friends. Or would be.”

Attalus’s rage only grew as fresh tears slid down his mate’s cheeks. She’d wept far too much today, yet no heads had been ripped from necks. He’d give anything to ease her suffering, to tell her she could trust still and look for the good.

But he wouldn’t tell her something he didn’t feel himself. He’d promised not to lie to her.

“She fooled everyone, Leita. Whatever her reasons, I’m positive it wasn’t your fault.”

Leita nodded, although Attalus knew his words were little comfort. There wasn’t much he could say in the face of such a total betrayal.

While it was clear Leita and Carenza got on more warmly than she and Ondra had, even he hadn’t supposed the root of it might be true animosity. He looked forward to the answer, for information would likely be the one thing to give Leita real peace.

Until then, Attalus would guard her, treasure her, and give her everything she could ever need.

It was almost dusk when someone very brave or very foolish knocked at the door. Before Attalus could shout at whoever it was to fuck off, Leita called, “Yes?”

Marcades opened the door to reveal Charis bearing a tray laden with food. Attalus grumbled, deciding he’d allow it. His mate needed sustenance.

Charis’s smile was small but fond to see them cuddled up together. She set the tray on a bedside dresser. “A few of your favorites.”