Page 37 of Foundling

I’m trying, Lala, but as usual, you’re being an obstinate foal.

Taking hold of Thalia’s horn, Leita glared at her mama mare. You know I hate metaphors.

The town was called Hallevale, and Leita marched into it determined to avoid Thalia’s knowing looks and innuendos. She didn’t slow until she’d nearly reached the center of town, and it was there that she finally noticed all the stares.

Most of her life, Leita had avoided coming into towns. After leaving behind the bones of her human family to lose herself in the wilderness, she’d had no need of interaction. She knew how to hunt, forage, and weave. She had Thalia for company and her magic for strength. Towns could offer nothing but complications and possible danger.

The months in Fallorian hadn’t made her any more comfortable with it. Fallorian, as the great fae city it was, seemed its own realm; a forest of stone and architecture full of entirely new things. Whereas a town…a town she knew well enough.

Hallevale was one of the larger towns near the eastern border, with a few thousand souls spread between the town center and neighboring estates. She’d gambled that it was large enough to have what she needed—news and supplies for Attalus.

Dozens of faces peered curiously at her, with more and more poking out of windows and doors and around houses and fences.

Leita stared back, not having planned what to say.

Charis had lectured her about this again and again. Plan a friendly greeting and be prepared for anything.

Her palms were beginning to sweat as Thalia came to stand alongside her.

There was no reason for fae to fear unicorns, but seeing a mare in the middle of town certainly would be a sight. Murmurs began behind hands, and Leita could sense their growing concern.

Say something, urged Thalia.

Leita wanted to. She did. Except, whatever it might be was stuck in her throat.

Damn it all, why was the simplest thing so difficult for—

“My word, is that you, Your Highness?”

Although Hallevale was mostly made from wood, the buildings were all elegantly built, with sweeping gables and artfully carved columns. The various hardwoods had been stained to rich, reddish browns and lacquered to a high shine. Doors were inset with pearlescent shells, iridescent beetle wings, and elaborate scrollwork, some depicting whole scenes of famous plays or popular myths.

It was from one of these large doors, carved to resemble the tallest peak of the northern Griegen Mountains with the Twins depicted as stars above it, that a kindly older fae hurried out. Leita bit back her instinct to deflect his outstretched hand and instead offered her own in return.

The man pumped it vigorously in the human way of greeting before bowing to press his forehead into the back of her hand.

Straightening, he positively beamed at her, and Leita was struck by the brightness of his eyes. His sclera were white, his veins unseen beneath his skin. Had the fae of Hallevale already managed to break their subsistence on magic?

For a fae, the man was somewhat ruddy, his cheeks gleaming a warm plum color. His hair had been cut unfashionably short, perhaps because it couldn’t be contained. It stuck out every which way in curling white tufts, giving him the look of an excitable cloud as he patted her hand and grinned.

“Forgive my surprise, Highness. We were told to expect you, but with the fire and the weather, well, we were just as pleased to hope you wouldn’t be caught in it, too.”

Leita held back her wince but only just. “No one was hurt in the wildfire?” The burn scar had ended about a league away from town, but still, far too close for comfort.

“Not a one, thankfully,” said the old fae. “It was a strange fire, strange indeed, but at least the winds kept it south.”

“Strange? How so?”

“Glenys, my dear. Introductions, I think.” A stately fae matron came to stand beside the man. Whereas he was all enthusiastic exuberance, the woman was calm serenity. Her white hair hung in soft ringlets to her waist, framing a lined but kind face.

“Indeed, you’re quite right, my dear, quite right.” Bowing once more, this time with an elegant flare of his left hand, the man again touched Leita’s hand to his forehead before declaring, “Welcome to Hallevale, Queen Leita. I am Glenys Berengion, duana-daín of this fine town. And this is my azai, Narinda.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you visiting us, Your Highness,” said Narinda, bowing herself.

The townsfolk watching on murmured and gasped before a cry went out, “It’s the new Queen!” Then, Leita was presented with dozens of heads as the fae bowed to her.

She clenched her teeth together to keep herself from squirming. The less fuss she made, the faster the formalities went.

“You truly honor us coming all the way out here. And so soon after taking the throne.”