Page 128 of Foundling

It’s done. There was no turning back.

She found Carenza down in the smithy where she’d asked her attendant to meet her. Thalia stood close by, both of their concerned gazes trained upwards on the echoing tower.

Leita nodded for Carenza to begin buckling on the armor made specially for her, but the attendant hesitated.

“Are you…sure, my Queen?”

Her stomach roiled and her soul cried out, but still Leita said, “It must be this way.”

Carenza nodded, knowing her place wasn’t to question, but it was clear to see she didn’t agree.

That was all right. She didn’t have to. Attalus wasn’t Carenza’s azai.

While not all fae might agree with Leita’s actions, they wouldn’t dispute her reasons. Azai were sacred, to be protected. Even stubborn Savrakae ones.

Will you come with me? Leita asked her mama mare.

You know I will. But it’s not just me who should be coming.

I can’t, Thalia. You know I can’t.

Thalia nickered, her breath ruffling Leita’s hair. I hope, one day, it won’t be fear that rules you, Leita.

31

Along the hard ride to the southern border, on the very tip of wooded headland just across the strait from the Spearhead, Leita wouldn’t allow herself to think of anything but what awaited her. Charis had supplied reports about what Araxos Anax was like, and Attalus had told both her and the council plenty of anecdotes.

She anticipated neat battle formations under the cool, cunning eye of a warrior king. What she, Marcades, and their forces found was barely more than a slavering beast.

An army of some one-hundred dragons had managed to gather on the sliver of land outside the faelands’ border, clinging to the cliffs like great roosting birds. The narrow meadow was meant as a trading and meeting place, where other folk might come and seek entry into the faelands. It was accessed only by a rocky beach and steep set of stairs carved into the headland.

Unless, of course, one could fly.

A hundred dragons packed onto a spit of cliff might’ve been amusing, their shifted forms packed tightly together and those at the back at risk of tumbling off the edge, were it not for the heaving form of Araxos Anax battering at the border with his bare claws.

Leita exchanged a troubled look with Marcades. This…wasn’t what she’d expected.

While marching to meet the anax and his outrageous demands, Leita had wondered whether she would see anything of Attalus in him. Although they were half-brothers, and differently colored besides, there might still be a resemblance. Something within him she might find to like.

Rather than ruby red like Attalus, the anax was a dark gold, almost amber color, his scales like a thousand freshly minted coins. He’d four long horns that arched back from his head as well as two horn buds erupting from his scalp—a sure sign that he was, in fact, Araxos Anax.

Leita sat atop Thalia, watching with mounting horror as the king of dragons threw himself at the border as though he meant to topple it by sheer force.

But he couldn’t…right?

I honestly don’t know, Thalia answered carefully. If anyone could, it’d be a dragon. It’s said they hold ancient knowledge even the fae don’t have.

Lovely.

She might’ve thought the other golden dragon, standing calmly beside the raging beast, was the true anax. While most of the Savrakae remained in their larger forms, this dragon stood on two legs, his clever gaze keen as he watched his king batter the border.

Well, she’d come all this way and upset her mate for this—it was time to end the nonsense and send the anax back to the Droplets where he belonged.

With the faelands’ ephemeral hand on her shoulder, Leita touched her magic to the border. The translucent field flashed purple, and the next time Araxos rammed his head into the wall, the wall pushed back. The anax bounced off the border hard, skidding back into his warriors and leaving thick tracks in the dirt behind.

The Savrakae hissed and spat flames, a ruckus made as the king was set on his feet.

“How dare you strike Araxos Anax?” demanded the other golden dragon.