Page 55 of Foundling

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Attalus, I must return.”

“That’s fine, let us leave. I’m more than ready for a proper bath and bed.”

Attalus watched Leita pinch the bridge of her nose in a clear sign of exasperation, but he wasn’t moved. Ever since she’d returned after a night in the nearby town, with news of her imminent, urgent departure, he swore he could hear glass shattering. Again and again, the crack and crash of so much breakage.

First, his good humor shattered. He’d been pleased with his progress these past days, enough that he wasn’t as worried to see her venture off to the town this time. She’ll be back. This second time, it hadn’t felt like she was actively fleeing him. Now, though…

Now, he thought it might be his patience he heard breaking. Over sleeping out in the wilds. Over her exceeding reticence and stubborn wariness. And now over the asinine assumption that she’d be going anywhere without him.

With a sigh, as though she were the one nursing beleaguered patience, Leita said, “You know you can’t come with me. Not yet.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort.” And the implication that he would think it reasonable for her to leave him behind was almost as galling as being left. “I won’t be left behind, doe.”

“I can’t bring you to Fallorian—especially not without warning them first.”

“Then use that magic crystal to tell them.” They could have a warm bath and fresh sheets waiting for them upon their arrival, for gods’ sake.

Spreading her hands in a gesture that made her look like she was trying to be reasonable, she told him, “The situation is precarious in Fallorian. If they didn’t need me as Queen, I doubt I’d have their support. And…” Her look soured even further. “It’s not as though I’ve been able to hold up my end of the bargain.”

He heard the disparaging tone and reached out to grip her shoulder and offer his support. “You’ve made progress, that’s undeniable. Let me come with you, let me continue to help.”

But Leita shook her head vehemently, not raising her sharp gaze to meet his. There was something about that, in the deliberate way she avoided his gaze, that made his scales itch.

After her success, why pull back now? He thought he’d been helping, at least in some small way. He couldn’t say for certain exactly how, but it seemed realistic to think that whatever breakthrough she’d had was helped along by their growing bond. He’d no evidence, only feelings and guesses, but Attalus had hoped that this all might finally mean something to her. Prove something to her.

To have that thrown back in his face was its own kind of slap.

His patience in tatters, he searched for another argument. “What about the patrols of Savrakae? I saw the one yesterday.” Never mind that it was no doubt she who’d sent them blowing southward like great tumbleweeds, end over end.

“I’m not the one they’re looking for,” she reminded him, her mouth grimly set.

His nostrils flared, and he swallowed back his growl. Yes, that was true. Still, the thought of her having to fend off a formation of gorgoroi on her own set his claws to twitching. She could handle herself, was stronger than him and probably a whole battalion of gorgoroi, but he couldn’t be rational about her safety. He wanted to ensure it, which meant he needed to be with her.

With little left to persuade her, he’d no choice but to resort to lesser tactics. “What about the bond? It’s grown, but this separation could sever it altogether.”

“If it’s strong enough, it’ll survive.”

Attalus sneered. “You would let it wither away that easily? You’d give up, just like that?” And although it was ugly, he taunted, “I thought it was you who are Queen, yet you answer every councilor’s whim? Who is it that commands whom?”

A tendon in Leita’s cheek pulsed, and Attalus had the distinct sensation of being in danger.

“I’ve been Queen less than a year, but even I know what duty is. You’ve made a poor princeps if you don’t understand it.”

“Oh, I understand it. I’m trying to do my duty to you, my mate. But you run from me. Always you’re running from me.” He hadn’t meant for his words to hurt himself, but the barbs stabbed and stung him far before he ever threw them at her.

“I’m not running!” she cried. Her answer was forceful, echoing down the cave. So loud, Attalus’s swishing tail froze in midair and his hearts skipped a beat.

To his horror, tears shone in Leita’s eyes. She made an X with her arms before sweeping them to the side, warding off his accusation. “I’m not running,” she said again.

Finally, it was Attalus himself he heard shatter as he watched her turn her back on him. She shuffled to the entrance of the cave, wrapping her arms around herself.

The light of the fire played across her hunched back, and he hated the sight of her curling in on herself. Her figure was stark against the darkening, colorless backdrop of the forest, night coming on fast.

It’d been near dusk when she returned with her news. He didn’t know how long they’d been arguing, but he felt in his bones that it’d been too long.

Why? Why must it always be like this?