Page 100 of Foundling

He rose with her long body woven through his horns, and her twitching whiskers tickled his scalp as she rooted around in his hair.

The sight of it made Carenza giggle when Attalus stepped past the bed. Leita’s attendants had made good use of the lounging furniture since Attalus introduced it; as his mate slept, Carenza sat embroidering while Ondra read.

“She’s already had plenty of fruit and cheese this morning, so don’t let her tell you otherwise,” Carenza whispered.

“Slinky, or the Queen?”

Carenza laughed. “Slinky. The Queen hasn’t stirred.”

“Thank you both. I’ll watch over her now.”

The attendants took their dismissal easily, both standing with their things, bobbing their heads, and silently taking their leave. They did the same things, yet Attalus couldn’t help noticing subtle differences.

While Carenza’s smiles were warm and quick, Ondra would hardly meet his eye. Whenever he saw the attendants waiting for Leita or watching over her, Carenza was usually keeping her hands busy, such as with embroidery or darning or shucking. Ondra, meanwhile, read. And while Ondra went directly to the door and left, Carenza stopped to check over Leita, smoothing the sheets and ensuring her toes were covered.

These little things caught Attalus’s eye, though he didn’t know what to do with them. As he understood it, Carenza had been a lifelong resident of Fallorian and her family were well-respected craftspeople. Ondra was a younger cousin from House Meringor, brought in by Lady Idrisil because she was of a similar age to Leita. Perhaps the differences could be explained by experience and geography, but that didn’t feel totally right to Attalus.

It could be the differences in their personalities, or that Leita clearly favored Carenza thanks to her warmer nature. Whatever the case, Attalus collected his observations for later. He hoped they wouldn’t be needed, but he had them if they were.

After a handful of grapes and cheese for himself, and one—all right, two—grapes for Slinky, Attalus returned to the bed. Climbing onto the bed, he crawled across the soft sheets to curl around his slumbering mate.

Gods, she truly took his breath away. As luminous as the moon and prettier than a pearl, her lilac skin and white hair struck him as otherworldly. Surely nothing so beautiful could exist in this world. Seeing the back of his red scaled hand against her softness almost felt like a desecration of such beauty, but he did it anyway.

With the curve of a claw, he pushed moonlit hair off her forehead and behind her pointed ear.

He’d learned since coming to Fallorian that long sleeps could be many lengths. Leita had begun trying to sleep when he did, at least when the urge to rest took her. During their sleep, fae resembled the dead, unmoving and cool to the touch. He supposed it was something like torpor, blood flow, heartrate, and digestion slowing.

It terrified him how vulnerable she was like that. So much so, he’d taken to being with her throughout most of her long sleep.

“You don’t have to worry,” she’d assured him more than once. “We have strong instincts to wake up if our magic senses danger.”

While that did reassure him some, nothing was better at calming his nerves than ensuring she was safe himself.

He also took great pleasure in being the one to wake her. Attalus had indulged in all manner of waking, from his head between her legs to his cock sliding over her weeping cunt. He’d marveled and shuddered to find her respond so beautifully to him, even in her sleep.

Today, though, he woke her with kisses.

“It’s time, my love,” he crooned. “The day awaits.”

Attalus wasn’t entirely sure what triggered a fae to wake; whether it required a certain regeneration of magic and strength or something else intrinsic like for other creatures. Leita usually came awake slowly, a breath deeper than the last his first sign. Her eyes moved behind her lids, and her lips pursed, as though waking displeased her.

He kissed that away, coaxing her to open her eyes.

One finally cracked to peer at him. “Attalus?”

“Good afternoon, agae. Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhmmm.” So well, it seemed, she didn’t wish to wake. Rather than stretch or yawn, Leita turned her head into the bed and curled up tighter.

“Ah ah, not this time. You said you wanted to go to the grotto today, remember?”

“No,” she grumbled.

“No, you don’t remember or no, you don’t want to go to the grotto?”

“No.”

Attalus chuckled and settled for petting her lovely hair. He let her rise in her own time.