Page 110 of Foundling

“Thank you, Charis.”

“I’m told Carenza and several others have been cleared from questioning, but of course you and the faelands will have the final decision, my Queen.”

Attalus hoped that meant some sort of pact from everyone within Leita’s everyday life. Better yet, every fae in Fallorian.

Leita nodded, her expression pensive.

“There’s one last thing…”

“What?”

Attalus’s eyes narrowed on the chancellor. Don’t you dare ask something of her.

“A crowd has gathered outside the palace gates. News has spread fast, and many are concerned for you. They…worry too about the dragon.”

“Let them fucking worry,” Attalus spat.

Charis actually nodded. “Normally I’d agree, but their good will is new. To see the Queen safe, to have a word from her, would encourage many.”

Attalus snorted, disgusted at the suggestion of playing politics now. Leita stirred in his arms, but he clutched her to him, unwilling to let her go.

“You don’t have to,” he insisted. “Their fears are their own.”

“No. As Queen, they’re mine.” Leita sat up on her knees beside him, her exhaustion writ across her pale face. Attalus opened his mouth to argue, but her hand on his chest stayed him. “Come with me?”

His protestations fell back down his throat.

“Is that wise, my Queen?” asked Charis.

“Who cares,” Attalus growled. “She won’t be going without me.”

“We can put all their worries to rest. Assure them I’m safe with my dragon azai protecting me.” Leita nodded, perhaps trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Very well,” he finally conceded. “But no lengthy speeches. You must eat and rest.”

“Agreed,” said Charis.

Attalus pinned her with a baleful look. She hadn’t earned his forgiveness yet.

After a handful of nuts and grapes, they followed Charis through the palace to the north tower, where they were led to a wide balcony. This was far grander than theirs overlooking the sea; an ornate balustrade of red granite rimmed the curve, and a platform of marble had been set in the center.

Nearing the edge revealed the city expanding below, and when Leita stepped up onto the platform, it was clear this balcony was meant for speeches and royal viewing.

A sea of faces met them, even in the dimming twilight. Gasps and murmurs ran through the crowd as surely as the breeze at the sight of Attalus beside Leita.

Raising her hand, Leita projected, “Thank you for your concern. I assure you all is well. The situation has been dealt with and Fallorian is safe.”

Up above them, some of the crowd’s cries reached Attalus and Leita. They called out to her, wishing her well, hoping she wasn’t hurt. And, of course, “What about the dragon?”

With a squeeze of his hand, Leita finally introduced him to the people. “I’m safe in large part because of my brave azai. He is Attalus Princeps of the Droplets, and he is your prince consort.”

Murmurs abounded, and Attalus wasn’t sure if the crowd believed her. It’d likely be smart to do this again in the daylight, when he was obvious for all to see, but Attalus didn’t care about smart right now. He cared about Leita and getting her fed.

They could just hear the crowd’s questions, about the dragons in the sky. Rather than answer, Leita declared, “I know it’s unprecedented, but much about my reign already is. I trust that you will welcome him as I have and support our family.” The promise of progeny, of a secure royal line, hung in the air.

Leita shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and he saw her swallow in his periphery.

Attalus stepped forward to give the crowd an even better view of him. They were his people now, he supposed, but he felt nothing for them. Perhaps that bond would grow, but for now, his only concern was the safety and welfare of his mate. In all honesty, the people would need to prove to him that they could be trusted with what he held most precious. Until then, he would watch them as closely as they did him.