Page 146 of Foundling

New…

Leita turned to look down at Thalia’s belly.

The mare stamped her hoof. Don’t you dare say anything. I’m not showing much yet.

Leita gripped onto Thalia’s mane for stability, her world thrown off kilter. You’re pregnant?

Yes. For a while now.

When…?

Thalia whickered, shaking out her mane saucily. Bellarand the Black has his charms.

Leita nearly choked.

Thalia nipped at her coiffed hair, pulling one of the curls from its silver pin. You’re not too angry with me? It won’t be until spring.

I’m not angry. Throwing her arms around her mama mare’s neck, she buried her face in Thalia’s soft white coat. But I’ll miss you.

I’ll miss you too, my most stubborn foal. But it won’t be forever. I’ll return often. I want to meet my grandfoal.

Leita’s mouth went dry. I’m not…She touched a trembling hand to her lower belly. Did Thalia know something she didn’t?

Thalia nickered, her hot breath blowing across Leita’s face. No, you’re not. But soon, I think. Very soon.

Trying to swallow past the knot in her throat, Leita looked up in wonder at the unicorn, not quite daring to hope. Do you think so?

If that lizard of yours has anything to say about it, yes, I’m quite sure.

The lizard himself whizzed past in a red blur, catching Leita’s eye. She couldn’t look away from him, knowing from his practicing that it was almost time.

Thank you, Thalia. For everything.

It’s been an honor, Queen Lala.

Hugging Thalia tight, Leita’s heart jumped to her throat when Attalus banked for the last time. The city itself held its breath, the crowd leaning forward in agonized anticipation.

Roaring so loud it shook the cobblestones, Attalus slammed into the citadel, a cloud of dust exploding around him.

The tower creaked and wobbled, the opposite side from impact giving way.

With another mighty roar, Attalus beat his wings, pushing pushing pushing against the stones. For a moment, nothing happened, the old stones resisting him to the last. Silence fell across the city, every breath held.

His shoulders rippled, and with one last beat of his wings and mighty shove, the citadel toppled into the sea. Thousands of stones crashed into the water below, sending up great splashing columns of water and foam. The impact was deafening, a mountain falling away, thousands of years shattering on the rocks below.

When it was over, only the foundation stones and a haze of dust remained, her dragon mate at the center.

Rearing onto his hindlegs, Attalus roared in triumph—and the fae roared with him.

In a blaze of cleansing dragonfire, the faelands and its Queen had been made anew.

Attalus would be right. They would sing songs and tell stories about it, how Leita Dragontamer’s reign marked a new beginning, a golden age, for the faelands. But that would be for much, much later. For now, there was life to live and dreams yet to come true.

Epilogue II

Sometime after the Battle at the Border

Deep within Highhome, further down than even the dank cells of the Maw, Araxos Anax trudged to his private, secret quarters. All knew he kept such rooms, but none knew where to find them—not even his younger full-brothers.