Page 71 of Foundling

“What?” asked Leita. When Charis remained resolutely quiet, Leita said, “I didn’t give you the position because of your name. I gave it to you because you’re the most qualified and will tell me the truth.”

“Fine.” Drawing in a breath, likely knowing Leita wouldn’t like what she said, Charis stated clearly, “You cannot leave. Not again and not so soon. The people here need you, need to see your effort and consistency. The more you run off into the wild, the less they trust you.”

The sting of her words didn’t make them any less true. No, indeed, it only sharpened their veracity.

“I know. But I have to do this.”

“Why?” Charis’s elegant hands opened, palms up, in an exasperated plea. “Tell me why, Leita. I need to understand. I’m trying to help you, but I can’t understand you.”

“I hardly understand myself,” she muttered.

It wasn’t the right thing to say; Charis’s shoulders fell in a sigh. “We worry for you. Me, my mother, the whole council. We want you to succeed. We see your efforts and your struggle. We wish to help. Please, let us.”

Leita held her next wobbly breath, teetering on a decision.

It wasn’t just her secret or safety at stake.

“I appreciate your supporting me. Truly, I do. But I have to do this.”

“Leita…”

“It’s…Charis, it’s my azai.”

The word was a whisper, but it may as well have been a shout with how Charis sat straight up in her seat, eyes going wide.

“Your…?”

Leita nodded. She had to be brave now, had to accept the truth. If she was to bring Attalus here, she couldn’t keep him hidden—at least not from Charis and the others in the palace. If she couldn’t find an ally in Charis, then she wouldn’t find one at all.

Drawing up her courage, she told Charis some of what had really happened out in the hinterlands, of coming across a shifted, wounded Attalus and healing him. Of his tangled situation and good humor. Of how…Leita had left him behind.

Charis listened, and already Leita could see the complex workings of her brilliant mind churning.

“I dreamt of him in my long sleep just now, and I…I fear it wasn’t a dream. So I have to go back. And,” Leita said, determined to arm herself this time, “I need all the literature Fallorian has on dragons.”

18

Her council had, of course, been in an uproar over Leita leaving again so soon. But Leita had left.

There had been cries of outrage, there had been promises extracted, but overall, the obstacles to her leaving numbered far fewer than she’d expected. That was in large part because Charis smoothed her way. The council was given some information, told to expect Leita’s imminent return with her azai. His presence would remain the strictest secret.

The moment Thalia’s hooves hit the road east, Leita shed what few cares remained over the council and what they thought. They didn’t matter now. Nothing else did except getting back to that cave and to Attalus as quickly as possible.

As though it knew she raced closer to him with every heartbeat, every long gallop of Thalia’s swift legs, the bond inside her seemed to give her slack, allowing her to breathe. But Leita didn’t dare, too worried it meant he was slipping further away from her. Where she couldn’t follow.

Her need to get to him lodged between her ribs, spurring her on and blurring her morals. Although Thalia was strong and fit, after a day of galloping, even she began to tire. With the mare’s permission, Leita fed magic into her veins, boosting her stamina and dulling her fatigue.

She’d never done it before and hoped never to have to again, but they couldn’t wait. Attalus needed her, and she feared he couldn’t wait the eight days it would take to walk or six to trot.

And so Thalia ran, ran faster and longer than she ever had. Through the night they raced, guided by the moon and Leita’s blue will-o’-wisp. On the second day, they left behind the Lune River, plunging into the hinterland, where the roads were narrow and rutted.

Damn, another thing to fix.

Leita barely felt the splash of the streams they forded or the branches that grazed her face. She didn’t eat and hardly drank, her stomach clenched too tightly to accept anything but the sight of her dragon.

On the third day, near evening, it was finally too much for Thalia’s exhausted body. The mare went to bound across a shallow stream but didn’t land quite right.

The two of them went tumbling, rocks and dirt flung aside as they skidded across the road. Leita’s sleeve and cheek tore, but she didn’t care.