Page 45 of Foundling

Because it was so old, it’d become something intrinsic, in and of itself. Like a forest or mountain, the border simply was. It had a sentience just like the Lune River or Fallorian. It heard her when she spoke to it, even if it was reluctant to speak back.

To Leita’s untrained eye, the layers of spells and enchantments seemed rather…cumbersome. There were few of the original rites to be found, and those that remained had been set deep underground in the border’s foundations.

She’d been walking the border since the night before, considering how to add her own enchantment to strengthen it…and whether that was the correct thing to do at all. It was a problem without clear answers, but it was preferable to thinking about the night before.

Leita’s wings buzzed angrily just remembering it.

The kissing had been…pleasant, but the memory of his mouth was marred by the words that’d come out of it—namely, his sudden decision that she could solve all his problems with a simple diplomatic message. Nothing was that simple, and Leita wasn’t convinced adding a dragon mate would spell success for her reign.

She was already asking so much of the fae. So much upheaval and change at once understandably shortened tempers and raised suspicion.

Leita herself was hardly ready for a mate like Attalus—she doubted the fae would be, either.

Really, the nerve of him to just assume—

Something tickled Leita’s toes. Along her boots, faint purplish magic glowed. The border was…reaching out?

Bending down, Leita gently touched the magic with her fingertips, expecting it to jerk away. Instead, the tendrils curled around her fingers like smoke, all sinuous, hazy curves. Straightening, Leita brought the border magic with her, bringing it closer to inspect.

The tickling touched the pads of her fingers.

Had it…responded to her strong emotions just then?

Thinking of Attalus and the way he frustrated her, Leita’s heart began to pound. The magic in her hand glowed brighter, the sensation not unlike a little creature licking at the sweat on her skin.

Leita held her breath and poured her vexation out, concentrating all that feeling in her hands. The border lapped it up and demanded more.

Thrilled as much as she was shocked, Leita obliged. With thoughts of her irksome dragon on her mind, she channeled her frustration and doubts, her anger and fears into the border along with her magic. The border took and took, cajoling her to go on, to keep giving, to hand over everything.

She might have, too. For a moment, the sucking at her hand coursed through her whole body. Her magic sparked and shuddered, unhappy to be pulled at. A pinch in her belly grew painful, and Leita tried to pull back, tried to close her fist shut and sever the connection.

But the border, so weak and starved before, hungered too much. Voraciously it gobbled at her magic and emotions, sucking down all the strength it could catch.

For a horrible moment, Leita’s lungs contracted—then she managed to close her fist.

At the same moment, something hard wrapped around her middle and wrenched her back.

The connection was cut, the border’s magic fading away like so much smoke in the wind. The wall of it gleamed bright as a mirror before winking out.

That was…strange.

“What in all fucking hellsss was that?” The snarling voice punched against her cheek, the rasping sss slithering down her ear.

Leita shuddered, looking up to behold a wild-eyed Attalus standing behind her. It was his arm around her middle, it was him who’d pulled her back.

“Didn’t need help,” she muttered, trying to pull out of his grip.

Attalus looked about as convinced as Leita felt; she could hear how her words slurred in her shock. Eventually, though, he did release her—after leading her a few steps away to a tall rock to sit on. She hated to admit it, but the support was nice for her wobbly knees.

Leita couldn’t have fathomed the border would do something like that. It was a greedy thing, hungry for magic and wanting to repair itself.

Shivering, Leita wrapped her arms around herself. She refused to be scared, but she’d allow a few moments to be shaken. She hadn’t known an entity could do that, and if she was honest, it made her fear fully connecting with the faelands even more.

So much bigger, would the faelands suck her dry? Would there be anything left of Leita afterwards?

Her stomach rolled at the unpleasant thought.

Leita couldn’t quite meet Attalus’s gaze when he squatted down to catch hers.