Page 140 of Foundling

“She’ll be happy to have you returned safe—use that to your advantage.” Attalus winked. “Besides, it’ll be a new challenge for her as chancellor.”

Even the safety-oriented Marcades thought an antiquated, unhelpful border wasn’t worth keeping. “The Savrakae have certainly shown its weaknesses.”

“Perhaps I might start training our women guards in airborne tactics,” Attalus suggested.

Marcades’s eyes lit with interest.

They discussed the idea throughout the evening, Attalus never letting Leita stray far from his side.

In the morning, as the fae mounted their unicorns and prepared to head out, though, Attalus had other plans. “This one is flying. With me.”

Leita’s brows rose, and she shared a look of bafflement with Marcades as she followed Attalus, who pulled her along by the hand.

“Attalus?” She watched, bemused, as he shucked the makeshift coverings Leita had insisted upon the night before. The guards didn’t need to see all their prince consort—that was just for her.

“Humor me,” he whispered, tossing her another wink.

The shift took him, scales and limbs elongating, and he shook off the lingering tingle when he stood heads taller than the fae. Grinning a lizard grin down at his mate, he lowered his shoulder and wing.

Leita still seemed mystified, but she gamely climbed up his wing and leg to sit astride his nape. To only Leita’s surprise, a great cheer went up from her warriors to see her sit one of her thrones.

“Queen Leita!” they shouted. “Leita Dragontamer!”

Attalus roared happily into the sky, adding to their cheers. She blushed and bore it, waving as Marcades led the army in a whooping cheer, literally starting to sing Leita’s praises.

She bounced on his back, legs squeezing round his neck when Attalus bounded toward the cliff edge and leapt into the sky. The fae’s cheers grew even louder as they watched Leita soar, Attalus circling them three times before striking out north.

Get everyone home safe, he told Thalia.

Rascal. Leaving all the hard work for your elders.

Attalus laughed, a deep, rumbling sound in his dragon’s throat.

Leita didn’t ask where they were going, the northerly direction obvious enough. Instead, she enjoyed soaring as much as he hoped she would. With her legs wound round his neck, she let go with her hands, leaning back to let the wind caress her open arms. A peek back at her revealed a joyous smile lighting her face, and Attalus tried to memorize it.

As the crow—or dragon—flew, it wasn’t a very long flight back to Fallorian, but Attalus never intended to go straight there.

When they were out of sight of the warriors, with nothing around for leagues but coastline, Attalus shifted back to his two-legged form.

A surprised sound escaped Leita, and she quickly lay down along his back, between his open wings, arms latching around his shoulders.

“You truly are most accomplished riding your dragon, my Queen,” he purred.

Leita giggled, a bubbling, effervescent sound that made Attalus greedy.

“What’s this about?” she asked at his ear.

“Can’t a dragon want to fly with his mate? I so rarely get you alone like this anymore.”

“Mm.” Nuzzling his horn bases and temple, she asked, “Does this mean you’re not mad at me?”

Attalus barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m livid, agae, rest assured.” He winked at her over his shoulder. “But there’s plenty you can do to make it up to me.”

Without teasing or guile, Leita hugged his shoulders tight. “I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, azore.”

“Careful,” he rumbled, “promises like that could be taken advantage of.”

“I mean it,” she insisted, “whatever I must do. Whatever you want of me.”