Page 78 of Foundling

She’d seemed to quite literally collapse over him after doing whatever she did. Attalus was grateful, truly, but the longer the silence stretched, the further he felt from her and the more marked their imbalance became.

While he absolutely understood and welcomed the status and protections of such a powerful mate as the Fae Queen herself, he also wished to stand beside her with pride. He wasn’t an old trunk and didn’t want to be a pet, either.

But, as usual, his doe was a hard one to read. Both her mind and heart were surrounded by calluses, toughened over a lifetime of loss and hardship. Attalus sympathized, of course, but he wished he knew how to reach her.

Finally, with dinner done and the fire making the most conversation, Attalus couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“I wish you’d look at me, agae. After all this time away and all you’ve done for me, won’t you say something?”

In his mood, he wasn’t above a little manipulation—even if he wasn’t proud to see her wince at his words. Something had gotten through.

Leita sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. “What I’ve done…” She peeked at him from between her fingers. “I worry you’ll hate me for what I’ve done.”

He cocked his head. “I certainly haven’t liked being without you, but I could never hate you, Leita.” Attalus doubted she had the stomach to do anything that would truly make him hate her.

“You…don’t remember what I did? To heal you?”

Hmm, it seemed she was worried about something he’d missed. “I’m afraid you’ll need to tell me, agae. Then I’ll decide if I’m angry with you.” He winked to ensure she knew he wouldn’t actually get angry.

In halting words, Leita finally described how she’d found him and what all she’d had to do. Of biting through his scales to suck out the venom. Of putting him through the full course of its cycle. And, most importantly, binding his soul to her in an ancient rite.

“A pact is unbreakable without forfeiting your life,” she said, her dejection clear as she stared at the floor.

“That hardly seems to matter in this case, as my life is already yours.”

Leita cringed, and after a moment, Attalus realized what he’d said and how she’d taken it. Grimacing himself, he stood to clear away their supper. They needed no distractions from this discussion—it was something that had to be done before a new day dawned.

“What is it that troubles you so about this?” he asked. She seemed distressed enough over it for the both of them.

In a little voice that Attalus hated, Leita explained, “The pact means that you’re bound to me. Not as a mate, but as a subject. Your life is mine, no matter how you think or feel.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I like you and want to be bound to you, then.”

But Leita shook her head, denying his answer. Attalus drew a long breath, fighting back the frustration. She was baffling, his little doe, but he could see she truly struggled with this.

Coming round the fire to face her, he squatted down to catch her reluctant gaze. “I can’t help but feel you’re trying to find reasons for me to hate you. Pointing me towards an exit I’ve no intention of taking. But I’m not the one who keeps leaving, agae.” He didn’t say it or mean it maliciously, keeping his tone calm, but it was important she understood. “Do you think I should want to hate you? That I should want to leave?”

When Leita raised her head, the breath hissed from Attalus’s lungs. Yes, that’s exactly what she thought.

“Oh, agae,” he murmured, drawing her down to him.

She came, blessedly, willingly, throwing her arms around his neck. Her tears flowed to wet his scales, and Attalus gathered her close, offering her whatever comfort and reassurance she needed.

“If I was ever going to hate you, I would by now.” Sitting back, Attalus crossed his legs and placed Leita in the hollow of his lap. He wrapped her up in his arms before tipping her chin up so he had her gaze. “I hated that you left me behind, it’s true, but I don’t hate you.”

“Why?” she asked, a single word that cut him to the quick.

Attalus nuzzled her temple. “Because I know what it is to hurt.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks although she didn’t sob. “I almost lost you,” she groaned, her eyes haunted. “Because I was afraid. Of losing you.” Her lips stretched over her teeth in a pained grimace.

“I’m alive and we’re together. That’s far more than I had just a few days ago. I’m more than content.”

“If I’d just…” She pushed her fist into her head, her clear frustration making Attalus’s hearts hurt.

He caught her hand in his, pulling it away from her face to kiss instead. “I know it seems we make an odd pairing. That we’re the butt of some divine joke. But the more I think on it, the more I see the sense in it.”

“What?” She blinked up at him, his words having surprised her.