Page 30 of Foundling

“I’m not on my own. And you have no idea how far we are from civilization.”

“I don’t remember seeing anything before landing.” He lifted his nose an inch into the air to sniff. “We’re near the eastern edge of the faelands, if my guess is correct.”

Damn, she’d heard dragons had excellent senses of direction. Not unlike birds, they could sense the various pulls of the earth to aid them in navigation.

“Besides,” he continued breezily, “if we were near your home, you’d have taken me there by now.”

Leita snorted. “I absolutely wouldn’t.”

“You prefer sleeping rough?” It was the first time she heard anything near distaste in his voice.

Somehow, hearing it made her…unhappy.

“I don’t mind it. The forest has always been good company.” At least, other forests had.

He rumbled in consideration. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those feral types. A woodland child.”

Leita’s blush reignited. “If I told you I was, would you fly far, far away?”

“No,” he replied, “I’d just have to try harder to persuade you into a bed.”

She closed her eyes so no one would see her roll them behind her lids.

“You are a vexing creature,” she sighed.

“So I’m told,” he chuckled.

A peculiar possessiveness sparked in her chest. Who else said so? Who else did he tease in this way? Who else enjoyed his humor and charm—?

Not that she did, of course. His comment just…sparked her curiosity.

They lapsed into a strange silence. Although partial to silence, Leita couldn’t help wanting to fill this one.

Instead, she clenched her jaw, refusing to be the one to break it.

Eventually, whether out of curiosity or boredom or something else entirely, she felt him pick up the end of her plait from the ground. At first, she thought he’d tug it or offer it to the marten to play with. A reprimand was on her lips when she felt him begin to gently tease it between his claws.

Leita’s throat went dry.

His voice was softer than before when he asked, “What is it exactly that you do, sitting here thinking so hard?”

“That’s not your concern.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but she could admit she was sensitive when it came to the faelands and its magic.

“No, perhaps not, but I’m curious.” Leita’s attention trained on the way his fingers deftly twirled her hair. She couldn’t quite see the movements, but something made her almost desperate to.

Unable to fight the blush, she bit out, “I’m trying to talk to the magic of the faelands. Get it to move the excess ash. I’d be further along if you’d—”

“You mean like that?”

Leita opened her eyes to find clouds of ash hovering in the air, nearly blocking out the sun entirely. She choked on her surprise.

“Well, it looks like it worked,” he said, sitting up to grin at her. “Now what?”

Now what, indeed. She’d been trying all morning to do something that happened…just like that? What had changed?

For the first time, her head swung to the side to look at Attalus. Oh no. No no no. She wouldn’t accept that he was what’d changed.

Standing abruptly, Leita decided to take advantage of the success—and not think too hard about why it’d come to be.