Page 95 of Foundling

“This just came for you, my Queen.”

Leita recognized the purple wax and crow seal. Grinning, she bid her companions farewell and, with only Ondra and Carenza behind her, climbed up into the palace to her bedchamber.

Opening the door revealed Attalus and Tamerlan there, standing amongst a collection of sitting furniture. They seemed to be in the midst of a heated argument over arranging the sedan and other chairs.

Tamerlan straightened at the sight of Leita. “Ah, my Queen, thank the goddesses—” he muttered that last part “—I’ll get out of your way.”

Hurrying as quickly as could still be called polite, Tamerlan made his escape, Attalus calling after him, “Coward!”

Leita hid her giggle behind her hand before dismissing her attendants. Carenza shut the door behind them, leaving Leita alone with her fussing mate—and their new furniture.

“You’ve been busy, I see.”

Attalus moved the chair Tamerlan had been holding to where he wanted before responding. “Indeed I have. Come see the fruits of my labor.”

Biting her cheek, Leita approached to admire his work. It was a fine arrangement of seating, sedan, cushioned benches, and chairs all gathered round a low table already set with a golden platter of grapes, figs, and cheese.

While somewhat ostentatious, they bore a familiar design to other furniture throughout the palace.

“You chose these?” she asked, running her hands over the fine red velvet.

“Sorry, the storerooms were out of good tree stumps.” He winked at her when she made mock offense. “In truth, I had limited options. I’m having Tamerlan source more fabrics.”

“Really? This seems quite fine.”

“It’s old—and clashes with the blue walls. I was thinking an amethyst velvet, to complement your beautiful skin.”

Leita blushed despite herself. Rather than let him see too much and get ideas, she rounded one of the chairs to sit. The springs in the cushion creaked, but once settled, it was a comfortable seat.

“The perfect place to read my letter,” she said, flourishing the paper before cracking the seal.

Attalus tracked the paper through the air, his intense curiosity fixing on it. “Oh? Who writes?”

“Ravenna, Queen of the Orcs. She has a lot to say for herself.”

He said something else, no doubt amusing, but Leita’s attention fell onto Ravenna’s writing.

My dearest Leita,

That’s Queen Conniving Bitch to you.

I didn’t know until I sent my last note, but I suspected, yes. If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have gone along with my plan. Or at least not willingly.

I will take full credit, of course. If you hadn’t deposed She of the Hag Face, how would your dragon have found you at all?

As for what to do with a dragon, I hear most are excellent lovers. Do write me back and tell me all about him, I want to hear everything! Is it true their tongues are forked?

We missed you at the wedding. I’ll write more about it when you’re less cross with me. For now, just know, I looked breathtaking.

And please be assured, you and the faelands will have whatever you need from Balmirra. Don’t worry—and tell Charis not to worry, either.

Your best and dearest friend,

Ravenna

Leita laughed until her eyes watered. It wasn’t until her belly unclenched, the laughter fading, that she realized Attalus hovered above her, the most adorable pout on his lips, as though a few moments of her attention on anything but him was a great loss.

“What news?”