Page 93 of Foundling

To Attalus’s mild surprise, the answer seemed to…if not please Marcades, then at least placate him. He nodded, as though genuinely happy to hear Attalus say so.

A familiar head appeared between the columns of the colonnade at the far side of the yard. Tamerlan’s long blonde hair, pulled as always into a neat tail at his nape, swished behind him as he walked quickly along. Perhaps he’d hoped Attalus wouldn’t see him, but there was no evading a dragon from its prey.

Slapping Marcades on the shoulder, he bid the captain farewell. “I enjoy our spars. Perhaps next time I’ll shift and give your warriors a real test.” Then he jogged off after Tamerlan.

He didn’t imagine the castellan putting on speed once he heard his name called.

Not fast enough, though.

Attalus slung his arm over Tamerlan’s shoulder, drawing the tall but thin man to his side.

“Tamerlan, my friend, you nearly escaped me.”

The castellan sighed. “What can I do for you, Prince Attalus?”

“I’m so glad you asked. I was thinking…”

Back in the bedchamber he shared with Leita, he took Tamerlan through his developing plans. Attalus had already made quite a few changes, both within the bedchamber and beyond, all with an eye to please and support his mate. And, all right, he was used to a certain level of luxury himself.

First had, of course, been their wardrobes. Leita already had numerous pieces, from day gowns to nightclothes to official ceremonial robes. However, if she hardly wore them, it didn’t matter how fine their fabric or craftsmanship, they were useless. Considering what Leita actually reached for, he’d begun working with Carenza and Ondra to source both fabrics and seamstresses to produce pieces Leita might actually wear. Comfortable flowing trou, embroidered tunics, lightweight skirts.

And more negligee and dressing gown sets, for it was only a matter of time before he ripped that white one she liked off her supple body in his dire need for her.

The only reason he didn’t have her under him was because she’d decided to venture out with the Meringor siblings into Fallorian. So, Attalus had to distract himself with improvements.

His second project had been the food. While Leita herself ate consistently, she was like a bird, pecking at this and that before flitting away. The kitchen staff were left without clear direction or feedback, but Attalus was more than happy to offer it. It seemed as though all that time in the finest eateries and drinking dens of Bargarad had prepared him just for this.

He was more than a little proud that with his help, the kitchens were now producing meals everyone in the palace wished to partake in. Many meals were taken in the common dining hall, where wine and conversation flowed. Attalus enjoyed those nights plotting with Charis and laughing with Lady Idrisil almost as much as the far more intimate meals he shared with Leita in their chambers.

However, they could do better than sitting on the balcony floor. Which was where Tamerlan came in.

Attalus had already recruited the castellan in refurbishing and redecorating other spaces. They’d not only enlarged and enlivened the dining hall but also two of the largest solars. These provided comfortable spaces to meet, read, even nap for those living in the palace. Attalus also worked to reorganize the administrative spaces so that not just Charis and Tamerlan could have an office. One day, Leita would need more staff, and the palace needed to be ready to receive them.

For now, though, it was time to turn his attention back to their bedchamber.

It was a nice room, the blue walls, with their ornate plaster cornices and elaborate wainscoting, offering a calming serenity. The four-post bed was spacious, gossamer curtains gathered at the corners. But other than the cushioned trunk at the foot and copper bath in the corner, there was nowhere to sit.

“A sedan settee would be ideal, as well as two cushioned benches with footrests. A set of low-backed chairs would also be agreeable, if you happen to come across any.”

“Is that all, my prince?”

Attalus turned to peer at Tamerlan over his shoulder.

The fae was a stickler for protocol, so Attalus’s zealous raiding of the palace stores had become a point of contention. He tried not to lord over the castellan too much—Attalus would pull rank but only after coaxing or wheedling didn’t work.

Everything needed to be perfect for Leita. While this was a palace, and those in it were devoted to her, there was much left to be desired. It was clear to him that her council and staff weren’t entirely sure how to please her. That was likely in large part because his doe could be difficult to read. They also weren’t used to a benign monarch after centuries of Amaranthe.

However, things couldn’t remain as they were. Improvements needed to be made. The palace, the people, and the faelands itself would benefit from Leita being happy, and so he took it as his mission to make it so.

Plus, sparring and redecorating was a good distraction to wile away the hours he was apart from her.

Attalus longed for the day he accompanied Leita out into the city. Having to trust her guards…well, he was ensuring for himself that they were fit enough.

Unfortunately for Tamerlan, Leita had yet to return, and so the castellan was at Attalus’s mercy until then.

“All for now,” he answered Tamerlan. “But while I have you, let’s talk art. What does the palace have in the way of statuary?”

While Leita didn’t relish spending another afternoon in the city, this time at least wasn’t so painful. Indeed, she found Gereon and Arnhem Meringor’s talk on keeping home gardens fascinating. She’d already formed so many ideas listening to their explanations of root systems and mulch.