Page 81 of Foundling

When Leita decided they were far enough out, they banked to the right, circling round to face Fallorian. Before she could head inland again, his sinuous tail wrapped around her waist. Attalus pulled her into his side, and he captured her mouth in a quick kiss.

“Let’s fly together again soon, yes?” he asked, genuine desire glittering in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” she agreed, feeling shy suddenly.

“Dragons consummate in the sky, you know. Aerial strength and performance are important in a mate.”

Leita cleared her throat delicately. “Let’s see how you do in the bed first.”

She’d surprised him with her quip, and she took great satisfaction in patting his cheek before setting off again. With a hearty, laughing whoop, he gave chase, swooping along the waves. Leita couldn’t help her grin as she watched him, his agile body cutting through the air. This was Attalus as he was meant to be—in his prime, his element. Dragons were creatures of craggy coastlines, after all.

He followed her upward as the cliff face and then the palace’s many layers and levels rushed past. Up to one of the higher levels, Leita found her balcony. She alighted there, her boots meeting the cool stone. Attalus’s talons made a soft click just behind her.

With a happy sigh, she shed her packs and stretched out her back. Returning to Fallorian wasn’t such a chore this time around, and Attalus had spoken so highly of her own bed, now she was excited for it, too.

Attalus peered around with marked interest, his tail swishing behind him. Something to his left caught his eye, and he leaned over the marble balustrade to get a better look.

“Your tower is leaning,” he noted.

“That’s the citadel,” she explained. “Where the throne used to be.”

“Used to?”

“Amaranthe took much of it with her in the battle. The window’s gone and so are most of the floors.” Leita looked at it too, the carcass of the citadel drooping like an old bird of prey on a branch, ghoulish in the murky fog. Great holes had been punched into the limestone walls, the gaping empty maw where the stained-glass window had been like some morbid mouth shouting across the sea. “It’s an ancient, sacred space, and the council wants to restore it, but honestly, I’ve considered just knocking it down.”

Attalus spun around to face her so quickly, Leita hardly tracked him through the dim. He took hold of both her shoulders, his restrained excitement pulsing through his fingers.

“I could knock it down.”

Leita’s mouth fell open. Whatever she’d thought he’d say, that wasn’t it.

Attalus nodded as though she’d said something. “In my larger form. I could knock it down into the sea. Please, agae, when else will I have the chance? I could be the villain to your council and people. I won’t ever ask for anything else.” His claws kneaded her shoulders as his words gained momentum and enthusiasm.

Leita smiled though held back her laugh. He genuinely wanted to do this. “You shouldn’t be making promises like that on your first night,” she warned, “but…I’ll think about it.”

Attalus grinned ear to ear, fangs flashing pearlescent in the hazy moonlight. “You are truly the most wonderful, most generous mate.”

She snorted, patting him on the shoulder before turning to open the double doors into her bedchamber. Behind her, she heard Attalus gather their packs. As Leita stepped inside, the familiar room greeted her—and suddenly, nerves assailed her.

Her azai was even now stepping into her bedchamber for the very first time.

Leita made herself busy lighting candles and sconces one by one, even though they could all be lit with a wave of her hand, to give herself something to do. By the time she’d finished and shed her outerwear, she found Attalus standing in the middle of her chamber, hands on his hips and Slinky on his shoulder, surveying the space.

She approached but didn’t completely close the distance between them. Anticipation gathered low in her belly. If he didn’t like the room, they could find him another, of course. There were official staterooms for guests, as well as several turret bedchambers in the north and west towers he might like. He’d have to do in here for now, but in a few days, they could make him—

Attalus turned that warm smile of his onto her. “This is a beautiful chamber, doe. Did you choose it?”

Leita nodded shyly. It was one of the few royal family suites left without miasma—those for the Queen, her consort, and her children were far larger and grander. Or had been. But, “I liked the light in this one.”

Attalus hummed in agreement. “I’ll bet sunsets are spectacular. Will you watch the next one with me tomorrow?”

“All right.” She hoped the soft candlelight hid the worst of her blush.

Although there were bags to unpack, Attalus was soon distracted by the copper bath left near the cold hearth. It’d been covered with a white sheet, and pulling that off revealed it full of fresh, cool water. This smacked of Carenza’s kindness and forethought.

Attalus rumbled happily, and Leita felt the sound hum between her legs. Clearing her throat, she offered to heat it for him.

“Tch, I can handle that, agae,” he said with a wink. Leaning over the tub, he let loose a steady stream of red flame along the broad side of the metal. He moved slowly, to evenly heat the water and ensure the metal didn’t warp, and before long, the water inside steamed and boiled.