Page 119 of Foundling

The court watched on, shaken but resolute.

It was Charis who nodded and took charge, having the body borne away. She issued orders for the information Leita found to be disseminated and called for her spymaster to join her in her office.

Everyone seemed to move, if slowly. The dribbles of blood on the stone floor were wiped away, and the guards returned to their posts. Soon enough, the hall was practically empty, all evidence of the horrors it’d just seen vanished.

Leita turned stiffly away, her knees hardly bearing her weight, they shook so violently. Her chest clenched too tight to breathe, every heartbeat agony.

She needed to escape, to return to her room or anywhere she could be away. She needed trees and open sky and fresh air and for life to be far less cruel than it was.

Leita staggered up the first few steps, meaning to climb to her room, but her legs just wouldn’t bear her. Catching herself on the wall, she wept, “Attalus…”

“I have you, agae.”

Mighty arms swept her up, holding her to his warm chest. Leita buried her face there, listening to the twin drums of his hearts. She pressed one cheek to his skin and hid the other with her hand, muffling her sobs as Attalus bore them away.

Take care of her, lizard.

I will.

Between his quick pace and occasional bounding steps made greater by his wings, Attalus brought them to their bedchamber in what seemed like no time at all. The cool air of their quarters smelled like them, and Leita shuddered with relief.

“I can stand,” she mumbled, but Attalus wouldn’t hear it.

They dropped to the ground, where he settled against something and nestled her in his lap. The sounds of crashing waves and crying gulls reached her ears, the fresh sea breeze finding them up on their balcony.

Leita hadn’t the strength nor will to lift her head for a long, long time. She clung to her mate and to their bond, almost greedy for the comfort and reassurance he quietly offered. For the moment, he wasn’t angry with her, and she was grateful. Any distance between them might break her after what she did.

Attalus let her soak his scales with her tears. He crooned and murmured to her, lullaby sounds and soothing nonsense that blessedly wrapped her battered heart in wool.

Being Queen was rarely enjoyable, but today was the worst of her reign. It’d been a long time since Leita had seen death like that, and since she’d been forced to deliver it. Her hands weren’t clean before today, but her conscience at least had been clear. Now, though…Ondra’s eyes wouldn’t leave her mind.

“Why?” she whispered into the hollow of Attalus’s throat.

He seemed to know what she asked, even though her question encompassed so much.

“To betray her cause, to see you as anything other than the villain, would be to make herself the villain instead. For some, that’s far worse than death.”

“I never…” Leita choked on the words. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want her to suffer.”

“I know, agae, I know. Everyone who witnessed today knows. Wanting to spare even your enemy such suffering is noble, and when the people find out, they will respect you for it.”

She knew he meant to comfort, and that the people’s respect was a boon she’d striven for. Perhaps she would treasure it tomorrow, or the day after. Today, it was cold comfort.

Leita finally lifted her head, surprised to find that the world outside her hiding place had darkened, the colors more saturated in late-afternoon light. They’d been out there for hours, it seemed.

“Your legs must be tired.”

“I’m right where I want to be.” Attalus held her tighter when she might’ve pushed away. Taking her cheek in his palm so gently it made her heart ache, he wiped the tears that lingered there as he searched her gaze. “It’s more than just this weighing on you, Leita. Will you tell me?”

Everything, every word and worry and feeling, clamored in her throat. Leita nearly choked with everything that wanted out, to escape the confines of her heart. The temptation to unburden herself, at least in this, was keen, and she teetered on the precipice, wishing so badly to be selfish.

When she didn’t answer, he touched her cheek, feeling where she bit it to keep from spewing all her troubles.

“Leita…?”

“I-I don’t want to burden you.”

Attalus sighed, his head falling back onto the wall behind him. He gazed at her from there, and she realized just how exhausted he looked. Grim lines bracketed his unsmiling mouth and underscored his weary eyes.