Page 98 of Foundling

Spend burned her from the inside out. The delicious fullness made her ache, and she held him tight as the throes of her orgasm gripped her.

“Agae, my Queen,” he moaned at her ear. “Fuck, I adore you.”

Leita gasped, her mind going utterly, wonderfully blank. For a brief, brilliant moment, all the cares and pressures of life faded away. She was but one woman, being bedded by the most magnificent, amazing man. She wanted to be no one else.

24

Attalus had made the suggestion of adding a few landing platforms and various other perches around the palace mostly in jest, but seeing the vein popping at Tamerlan’s forehead only sold him on the idea.

“Just think of it,” Attalus proclaimed, “a redwood platform over there, with a turned mahogany balustrade for safety. It could work as a viewing platform as well, overlooking the sea.”

Attalus pricked the inside of his cheek with a fang to keep from laughing as Tamerlan turned an interesting shade of puce. He didn’t realize fae could change colors so drastically, but the castellan managed it.

“I’m not sure how practical such a project will be,” Tamerlan said carefully.

“Why not? Your Queen’s consort enjoys flying—and safe, smooth landings. I’m sure all the women of your kind would appreciate it, too.” They, like Leita, had wings of their own, after all. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your womenfolk, Tamerlan.”

“And where do you propose we put this…addition, my prince?” Tamerlan’s lips moved as little as possible asking the question, and Attalus suspected addition wasn’t his first choice of word.

“As I understand it, the citadel will need to be replaced next spring. Perhaps in the new design, a platform could be worked in.”

Tamerlan’s eye twitched. “The citadel is a sacred space of our people, where dozens of Queens have sat their throne to rule the faelands.”

“And yet it hasn’t a floor. Only bats and birds can enter now.”

The castellan’s horror was absolute, although, as the palace’s overseer, he likely knew about every creature within it, including the bats and birds.

Attalus patted the man’s shoulder. “The new design will be spectacular, you’ll see. Without all the dust and bad memories. And with proper floors.”

A sigh escaped the castellan, hopefully a sound of resignation, but Attalus graciously decided not to push him further. Tamerlan at least had the manners to take notes in front of Attalus—whether they’d be ripped up in a fit of rage later on, wasn’t really Attalus’s business.

“Was that all the improvements you had in mind, Prince Attalus?” asked the castellan, his body tense as though bracing for bad news.

“For today, yes. Thank you, Tamerlan, you’re always the utmost help.” And while Attalus endeavored to be jovial with the fae of the palace, he did truly mean his praise. Despite much eye twitching and gusty sighing, Tamerlan did what he could to execute Attalus’s requests, even the more hairbrained ones.

Seemingly surprised by the praise, Tamerlan nodded, his pained expression softening. “You’re welcome, my prince. I will go file this under spring projects and send word to our carpenters for estimates.”

“If anyone can make it happen, it’s you, my friend.” Attalus added a winning smile onto his statement, for a little more butter never hurt a slice of bread.

With that concluded, Attalus decided it was high time to return to his sleeping mate. She’d taken a long sleep, starting yesterday evening after a pleasurable bout of lovemaking. Leita had fallen asleep in the aftershocks of orgasm, Attalus’s cock still deep inside her.

Bundling her up to hold all night had been a particular joy, and Attalus had stayed abed longer than usual just to hold her a little more. His doe carried so many burdens; seeing her face unlined, unworried, made his hearts ache for her. And made him more determined to ease what he could.

Attalus was pleased to see that his improvements were already bearing fruit. Just over a fortnight and already the palace was running more like those he was accustomed to.

It wasn’t that her staff and council were inept or bore ill-will. Rather, in the void of any direct command from the Queen, the councilors had done their best in their own arenas. However, the links between these and helping them coexist harmoniously had yet to develop, and so Attalus endeavored to ensure those connections were made. A little oversight, a little nudge was all they needed.

He knew better than to overstep his bounds or perceived authority, however. He was, of course, an outsider. An obvious one. His presence in Fallorian was still a closely guarded secret. Even though all the palace staff and residents had grown accustomed to him, no one outside the walls knew of him.

Attalus understood the wisdom of the decision, but he was growing bored within the confines. Perhaps it was why he needled Tamerlan and Marcades more than necessary—and dreamt of building platforms from which to take flight and land.

He stretched his wings to full length, getting the blood flowing, before tucking them to his back and heading up higher into the palace. Maybe a nighttime flight was in order; he needed to keep his flying muscles strong. And perhaps he might persuade Leita to join him. He longed to fly with her again, as well as show her how dragons consummated matings.

As Attalus climbed one of the artery staircases up into the residential block of the palace, Charis was coming down, likely headed to her office.

She smiled warmly to see him, and Attalus bowed his head.

“Lady Chancellor.”