Page 10 of Foundling

Looking up at the sound of her approach, the warrior grinned fondly. The skin around his eyes crinkled endearingly whenever he did that—Leita had noticed it soon after meeting him, and it made her realize the lack of such expressions on other fae.

Allarion had been invaluable in the months since Amaranthe’s defeat. Able to bring the army onside, he handpicked Marcades and the rest of her Queen’s Guard. Loyal and competent, he and his house had stepped in to help wherever they could. Leita would be lost without their expertise and wisdom; she relied on Idrisil’s knowledge, Charis’s advice, and Allarion’s goodness. The two younger Meringor brothers were renowned horticulturists and knowledgeable in animal husbandry and had volunteered to help begin new farming endeavors so that the faelands wouldn’t forever be reliant upon imports.

If she was honest, watching how efficiently Allarion had purged the palace of Amaranthe’s sycophantic courtiers and harem and taken charge of stabilizing Fallorian had made Leita not only jealous but admiring. Had he not already found Molly, his charming human azai, Leita might’ve been tempted to take Allarion for herself.

Allarion bent in a low bow, one arm folded over his chest. They were a mannerly sort, the Meringors.

“Such formality,” Leita noted. She’d given up telling them to dispense with it, and lately Allarion and Charis, at least, had become more informal around Leita.

His expression was warm but careful when he replied, “It never hurts to lead this way when making a request of the monarch.”

His words and formality got her squirming.

“If it’s within my power…” Allarion and his house had done so much for her, she really couldn’t refuse them anything.

Allarion gently laid a hand on Leita’s shoulder. “I know you’re determined to leave Fallorian. I support you, so long as you promise to return.”

Leita bit the insides of her lips unhappily. “You know I will.”

“Yes. Eventually you will.” He chuckled at her blush. “Do what you must, but don’t keep Fallorian waiting too long.”

“Very well.” Arching a brow, Leita said, “That’s all you wanted to ask?”

“No. I fear it’s time Molly and I also take our leave.”

Leita nodded. “For Ravenna’s wedding. Please give her my best.” She would’ve gone herself—how often did a half-fae seer wed an orc king?—but even a strong Queen bonded thoroughly to the magic would have a difficult time parting from the faelands.

“We will. But, once we’ve seen her settled, we mean to return to the Darrowlands. Molly misses her cousins and our estate.”

The unease wriggling in Leita’s stomach clenched. She’d known about Allarion’s growing influence in the human kingdom of Eirea to the north and estate in the demesne of the Darrowlands, but she’d never stopped to consider that they might wish to return now that the faelands was without Amaranthe.

“You…you wish to go back there? For how long?”

Allarion nodded. “We do. It’s our home.”

“But your…even Molly’s life will be much longer than that of her kin.”

“I’ve made her aware. We wish to live at Scarborough for at least a human lifetime, help her kin when we can. Molly’s ties to her life there are still strong.”

Leita couldn’t help the bitterness burning the back of her tongue. “Better to cut those ties now. It’ll be kinder,” she said, more vehemently than she intended.

Allarion was too well bred to show his surprise, but Leita still sensed it. Turning away, she stalked off toward the edge of the pavilion, gripping the stones of the parapet to steady herself.

Fuck, she didn’t want to think about them.

Leita had lost more than one family. First had been her mother and sister, sacrificing themselves so that she might survive. Thalia found her and accepted her into her herd, but Leita had been young, lonely, and after several years in the unfamiliar wilderness, Thalia finally brought her to a remote human village. There, a family had been kind to her. Taken her in. She’d become one of them, a daughter and sister again. Leita grew up with her human siblings; when it was time for them to marry, Leita too took a spouse. Made a life for herself.

Then, the sickness had come. It swept the human village, as disease was wont to do. Although powerful, Leita had been young, untrained. Her magic spread thin, she couldn’t save everyone. No indeed, all she did was extend their suffering.

Only her sister Marya had survived. They couldn’t stay there, had to leave a village that was merely empty domiciles that echoed with the lives stolen from them. She and Marya made new lives for themselves in the east, where no one knew them. Marya took another husband, had more children, but Leita couldn’t bring herself to feel that pain again. She was content to be with Marya. If she had her sister, everything would be all right.

Marya outlived her second husband, as well as her third. She survived all her children and several of her grandchildren. Finally, when she was one-hundred-and-thirty, she gripped Leita’s hand in her knobby one, skin gone papery, and begged to be set free.

“Please, sister. Please let me go.”

To her shame, Leita had refused at first. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t let go of her family again. But the tighter she clung, the faster Marya slipped away. No magic could restore her youth, and even if it could, human minds often couldn’t cope with living such long lives. Time had stolen Marya away, and Leita could do nothing.

Leita had returned to the wilderness after burying the last of her family. Thalia had found her again soon afterwards, and Leita abandoned civilization altogether. Better to run wild with the unicorn herds and live alone as the ghostly shell she was.