Page 46 of Foundling

“Did you mean to do that?” he asked.

She wanted to lie but couldn’t and so said instead, “You shouldn’t be out in the open. You’ll be obvious from above.” Her tone was far more waspish than she’d meant, but she didn’t try very hard to stop it.

“No, what’s obvious is this purple wall shining like an aurora around you,” he argued. He stood up now that he had her gaze, and for once, it was him that frowned at her. “It looked like it was…doing something to you.”

“I was reinforcing it.”

“Willingly?”

Not entirely, but she’d bite her own tongue before admitting it. “That’s what I’m out here to do.”

“Hmph.” Now that they were settled, Attalus rested his hands on his hips and looked about the landscape. It was still a stark view across the forest, ashen from the wildfire. With the rain had come new green shoots, but it would take time for the forest to heal—especially if the faelands wouldn’t accept her help.

Given his profile, Leita could take her time to look at him. He wore the trou she’d brought him from Hallevale, as well as one of the billowing shirts. She’d purposefully gotten it too big, trying to accommodate his wings. He’d cut slits in the back to allow for his wings to push through and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

He looked…honestly a little strange. As though the clothes were a costume, a disguise meant to tame him.

She knew dragons typically wore kilts, tunics, and robes of light, breezy materials, but this was the best she could do under the curious stares of the Berengion couple. A linen kilt with a jeweled belt would no doubt suit him far better.

Attalus caught her looking and leaned over to inspect his middle as though he might find something there. He grinned at her, but it quickly fell when she didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t have the energy for games. Once she’d caught her breath, it’d be wise to head back to the cave, as another long sleep might try to catch her.

However, she suspected there was something on Attalus’s mind. He hadn’t followed her all the way out here for nothing, and she was coming to learn that the way he swished his tail was a bit of a tell to his mood. Sinuous as a banner in the wind, his tail seemed to float behind him as he regarded her intently.

“I didn’t mean to offend yesterday,” he said finally.

Leita merely nodded. It wasn’t really an apology, so she didn’t really have to accept it.

“I think, perhaps, now that titles and circumstances are out of the way, we might discuss something even more important.”

“And what’s that?”

“What it means to each of us to find our true mate.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say at all. She was also surprised at the almost shy way his wings bobbed before he came to sit alongside her on the rock.

“Our kinds put much importance on finding a true mate, so I suppose we should as well. But I admit, I’m not sure how to truly feel about it.”

Leita couldn’t help peering at him, curious about where he was going with this. It was Attalus who avoided meeting her gaze this time; to the barren landscape, he said, “Finding one’s mate has meant disaster within my family, you see.”

She listened with as much awe as she did horror while he told her the story of his family, how his father had slain his own true mate in a fit of madness. How, rather than die alongside her, he’d taken mistress after mistress before finally a new queen was found. That could’ve been the end of it, the tragedy of losing his first queen left to heal, if badly.

Instead, the king in his madness had demanded Attalus’s mother. Coerced into the king’s bed, she had done what she could to survive, turning the king’s head and favor to her long enough to be made the third queen. That could have been the end of it, too, if an unhappy one.

Instead, his mother had found her true mate, a human sailor, and for some decades, they were secretly happy. They had a daughter, Attalus’s own half-sister, and that could have been the end of it, had the secret not been exposed.

“So while finding a true mate is a joyous thing, in the end, it’s only brought my family ruin.” Attalus’s smile was sad and still directed at the landscape before them. “I never really expected to find my own true mate. I never went looking for them. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d live long enough anyway.”

Leita didn’t like that sentiment at all, and neither did she care for his try at levity, saying it all with a false grin. What he said wasn’t meant to be lessened or sweetened. Some truths were meant to be hard.

“But now that you have?” she asked.

Finally, Attalus turned enough to meet her gaze. It seemed he couldn’t help the grinning; whether it was subconscious or practiced or involuntary, she couldn’t decide.

“I know it’s a blessing. My instinct is to fly headlong into this bond.”

“But the rest of you disagrees,” she assumed from his tone.

“No, I just think the rest of me is catching up.” Turning a bit more on the rock, enough that their knees touched, Attalus gently picked up Leita’s hand to twine their fingers together. “I know this is strange, and sudden, and we can be forgiven for not knowing what to do. Were I a common dragon and you a normal fae, we’d still be an unorthodox pairing.”