Page 60 of Foundling

Leita highly doubted that, but it wasn’t worth the argument. As she watched, Charis leafed through the many papers she carried, and Leita had to hold back her groan.

“Who is it that commands whom?”

Attalus’s taunt rang in her ears. Like most of what he said, they were just words, but tired and dirty as she was, their sting was acute in her chest.

Before Charis could get started—she could and would stand there for hours lecturing if allowed to—Leita began walking at a measured pace.

“My Queen…?”

“You have until I reach my room to give me the important bits.”

To her surprise, Charis caught up quickly, Carenza and Ondra falling in behind them, as the chancellor did as instructed. Leita, in turn, did her best to listen as they navigated through the barren palace, trying to keep her steps judiciously between unhurried and hasty.

There’d been dragon sightings throughout the eastern hinterlands, even down the Lune River. The fae of Fallorian refused to eat the palace-funded food made throughout the city. The northern mines reported low yields, so low they may not have enough to cover another shipment from Balmirra.

“And speaking of…” Charis pulled a sealed parchment from her stack to hand over. “This arrived from Balmirra just the other day.”

Leita immediately recognized the purple wax sealed with a crow stamp. She broke the wax, unfolding the soft paper only to find a short, infuriating note.

I told you so.

Love, Ravenna

The sound of pure outrage that came out of Leita could be heard throughout Fallorian, perhaps across the faelands itself. The other women gasped and asked after her; even Thalia checked in via their mental link.

Is a bird dying a horrible death or was that you?

Not caring about her pace anymore, Leita marched for her chambers. Thrusting open the finely carved double doors, she fell upon her unused desk. Every drawer was thrown open until she found what she required—a fresh quill and sheet of paper, as well as an unopened inkwell.

So furious was Leita, she didn’t even care that her penmanship was more atrocious than usual nor that she left great globs and spatters of ink in her wake.

You conniving bitch.

You knew it would be a dragon, didn’t you. Your future is set in flames, that’s what you told me. You’ve known all this time.

What in this world or the next am I supposed to do with a dragon?

If this ends in disaster, it’s entirely your fault.

We may need to pay for the next grain shipment with goods as well as silver.

Your worst enemy,

Leita

Not even waiting for the ink to dry, she ripped the page away from the desk to hand to a wide-eyed, unnerved Charis.

“Make sure this is dispatched today for Balmirra,” Leita growled.

Charis blew on the page, and with a whiff of magic, the heavy ink dried in an instant. “Please spell it, my Queen. Royal correspondence must maintain the utmost security.”

Leita took the paper back, folded it up, sealed it messily with her red wax, and stamped it shut with her own thumb, imbuing the wax with a spell to only break under Ravenna’s hand. As Leita handed it to Charis again, she wondered if she could put a curse on the missive that, when opened, Ravenna would be doomed to an unreachable itch at the center of her back for all eternity.

“Your Majesty…Leita…what happened out in the wilds?”

She turned at Charis’s question to find her chancellor looking disturbed. Or thinking Leita was disturbed.

She certainly felt a bit more feral than she had in a while.