Page 66 of Foundling

These fucking fire-spitting lizards wanted to threaten her? Her mate, her city? It couldn’t be borne.

Before Marcades could reach her, Leita took a running leap off the balcony, her wings bursting from their bundles on her back. She zipped through the air, the salty sea spray buffeting her cheeks.

The dragons spotted her immediately, but she wasn’t trying to hide. They hovered in their formation, assessing the lone fae flying at them, and that was their greatest mistake.

Leita swept her arm forward, thrusting it and a great wave at the dragons. Blue water tipped in seafoam rose in a tempest, reaching high for the lizards as they scrambled to dodge. The wave caught one on its rump, weighing it down before the beast was able to spiral out of the breaking swell.

Now that they were dripping, she had their attention.

She cupped her hand around her mouth, her magic carrying her demand across the water in a booming concussion. “Begone! Tell your king the next dragon spotted will be shot down!”

Leita didn’t know what she expected—a response perhaps, an explanation of why they’d come, even their own demand to hand over Attalus. Nothing came, however. The formation merely loitered there, like oversized bumblebees floating on the breeze.

As they took her measure, Leita assessed them right back. They were all different colors, although none were red like Attalus. She’d heard the old king and his murderous successor were both golden, but at most one of the dragons could be considered bronze.

Strangest of all, they wore black armor even in their bestial form. Armor and jewelry that could change size and shape with a dragon was rare and prized. These were no rogues nor simple wanderers. They’d been sent here with a purpose. Whether they were the same formation Leita had seen twice now, she couldn’t say—but she knew for certain all had been sent by Araxos Anax.

“Whatever you seek isn’t here,” she called across the water. “Go back, by order of Queen Leita.”

The name still felt wrong on her lips, but her outrage saw her through. It also stirred the dragons, several of them looking amongst themselves.

They might not have realized the fae before them, barefoot and clad in worn trou, was the Fae Queen. Perhaps they could be forgiven for not knowing. They couldn’t, however, be forgiven this trespass.

“Go!” she commanded again when still they didn’t move. Waving her hand in a tight circle, mostly for effect, Leita churned the water beneath them, letting it spin and writhe into the beginnings of a whirlpool.

A crackle of thunder charged the air, and all of them turned to see lightning strike far out on the horizon. She hadn’t called such a storm hither, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Go, or we’ll find out if dragons can swim!”

Between the whirlpool and the impending tempest, the dragons shook their muzzles and finally, wings beating, gained height and banked southward.

Leita pushed the whirlpool away, having it follow them as a great cresting wave. Better for them not to turn back.

She hung in the air herself for a long while, watching the retreating formation until she could hardly discern them from other sparkles on the sea. She stayed so long, the storm’s potent energy sizzled along her skin.

Leita glared at the coming storm, tempted to take it on, too.

So much anger, so much frustration gathered inside her, it all just needed out.

She thought she heard cries on the wind, voices begging her from the balcony to return.

But she didn’t. All this inside her—it needed out.

Throwing herself horizontal, Leita cut through the whipping wind, heading out to meet the storm. Rushing to meet her was a hazy sheet of pouring rain, blurring the horizon. Clouds the color of slate charged the shore, blue lightning cracking in the air between sky and water.

Before the rain could touch her, Leita drew up and clapped her hands together in the glare of a lightning strike. Her magic detonated across the sea, splitting the storm in two.

Rumbling lightning burst through the clouds in purple flashes, and the air pressure dropped, nearly pulling Leita down into the water. She fought to stay airborne, her wings buzzing, as she clapped her hands again.

The clouds parted as though by some great comb, half streaming left and half streaming right. All that angry precipitation rushed up and then back out to sea, the lashing rain hissing as it was denied landfall.

Sucking in a damp, heavy breath, Leita watched as the storm collapsed in on itself. The electricity fizzled and the rain softened into a light drizzle. Droplets clung to her wings and eyelashes as it washed over her.

The coolness sobered Leita.

She turned back toward the palace, her limbs trembling.

When she landed on the balcony, it was with less grace than she’d meant. Her wings nearly gave out, and her knees barely took her weight, but Leita gritted her teeth and strode back into her chamber to meet the astonished stares.