Page 139 of Foundling

“Humans have a custom, a dowry, given with a bride or groom sent to another’s home to live. Give Attalus and a dowry to me in the name of friendship and alliance, and we’ll consider the matter settled.”

Attalus’s grin grew wide. Oh, his clever little doe.

“They also practice a bride price, where the family of the bride or groom is paid,” Araxos argued.

“Consider it recompense for damages done to me and the faelands,” said Attalus. “I should think three-hundred ingots would suffice.”

Leita wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t cheapen yourself, my love. You’re worth at least four-hundred ingots to me.”

Chuckling, Attalus dipped to nuzzle her, his hearts lighter. He was still sore about being left behind, but they could move past that. There was nothing he and Leita couldn’t face, together.

Araxos looked between the two of them, clearly incredulous. “You truly don’t find him insufferable?”

“Of course I do.” Leita laid her cheek on Attalus’s chest, grinning. “It’s what I love about him.”

“Then I’d give him to you for free.”

“No, five-hundred ingots will do.”

If Attalus didn’t know better, he might’ve thought Araxos’s lips twitched with amusement. “Very well. But in that case, I will require assurances that he will be safe and cared for. And stay out of mischief—at least within my islands.”

“Mischief…” Attalus mouthed.

“I’ll personally guarantee it,” Leita agreed.

“Very well. Then,” Araxos reached to pull the horn caps from the outer set upon Attalus’s head, “I allow you to renounce your ties and loyalty to me and our clan and recognize you as a subject of the faelands.”

Attalus tried not to roll his eyes at his brother’s self-importance. “Much obliged, sevastos ader.”

“May your union shine brightly upon the faelands and Droplets. I will have your gold sent within the fortnight.”

“I will need safe passage,” Attalus added, making Araxos’s eye twitch, “to collect my mother’s hoard.” There was no way he was revealing its location and trusting anyone else to clear it.

Araxos sighed again, the picture of a harried monarch. “As you will. Send word ahead and passage will be granted.”

“Thank you.”

The anax nodded to Attalus and Leita. “Safe journey,” he said before turning on his heel and marching toward the cliff. With him, the remaining dragons leapt from the headlands, catching an updraft across the strait.

“He didn’t actually apologize, did he?” Leita realized.

“Of course not. An anax never does.”

Watching the retreating flight of the dragon army, Leita remarked, “I almost pity him. To be betrayed like that…”

“You have a soft heart, agae. Don’t waste it on Araxos.”

Grinning up at him, she asked, “Who should I waste it on, then?”

“Oh, I think that’s fairly obvious.”

With the afternoon lengthening, it was decided to make camp inside the border for the night before moving the recovering warriors. But rather than climb through the hole in the wall, Leita chose to bring it down herself.

Attalus watched with Marcades and the other fae as Leita’s hands wove silent commands through the air. The wall groaned tiredly, and rather than fall or break apart like Attalus expected, it began to melt. Like ice on a hot day, the wall dripped as liquid onto the ground, seeping into the earth. The grassy meadow and cypress grove sucked up the magic and strength, the roots claiming their boon.

“Is the entire border wall gone?” asked Marcades.

“No,” Leita said upon finishing, “just this part. But…I think it may be time to bring it all down. I’m not sure it serves its purpose anymore, and the fae shouldn’t be kept captive inside it.” She grinned ruefully. “Charis won’t be pleased.”