Page 80 of Foundling

Leita clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh.

Our pampered princeps isn’t an outdoorsman, Thalia observed, her ears pinned back as they stood watching his tantrum.

No, he’s not. He was, however, a decent sport and only cursed the forest and everything in it a handful of times.

The closer they came to Fallorian, the more often Attalus brought up her bed. He wanted to know dimensions, thickness, and distance from the door. He declared they’d need more pillows, more blankets, more silk for their nest.

“A Queen should rest in the utmost luxury,” he told her sagely, and Leita bit back another laugh.

“A Queen, is it?”

“And her consort.”

“Mmhmm.”

If she let him, he’d chatter endlessly about proper nest size and softness, as well as all he wished to get up to in it. “First, a proper sleep, of course. For the both of us. Then…” He waggled his brows, and Leita had to start walking faster to avoid his lascivious insinuations.

She couldn’t think about that too much, either. He minded his manners in the night, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin. Honestly, so was Leita’s. She remembered what he’d promised the night before she left him in the cave. “I’ll spend the rest of my days pleasing you, making you beg. But first you’ll come back to me.”

She’d upheld her end of it…later rather than sooner, at least.

The tightness in her throat made her push those thoughts and worries to later. It would all be sorted—they just had to get him to Fallorian and into the palace.

On the eighth day of travel, it came time to make it so. No more thinking about it, no more plans. Taking shelter from the afternoon sun amongst a copse of leafy trees, they peered up at the great towers and spires of Fallorian from the south.

The sky promised a beautiful sunset, all oranges and lilacs as the sun slipped into the sea. It was a shame she’d have to obscure it.

Leita stepped up to the cliff edge and began to move her arms in tight spirals. Her magic warmed her palms before racing out across the water, calling in a fog bank. Usually those didn’t roll in until near dawn, but Leita coaxed one in to offer them better cover.

They would fly in from the sea once night had come, the fog providing a screen. Once Attalus was secured and comfortable in her room, Leita would alert Charis and the others of their return. After that…well, she hoped he’d get a good night’s sleep on her bed.

As they waited for the light to fade and the fog to gather, Leita reminded Attalus of a very important detail. “You must promise to remain within the palace. My council will know, but until a few things are settled, the people mustn’t.” She doubted she’d earned enough good will, even if the food had improved while she was away. Leita didn’t want to drop the news of Attalus on an angry populace and possibly endanger him.

“I remember,” he sighed gustily. “For now, I’m to be only a mistress, a dirty secret kept hidden in backrooms—and bedrooms.”

Leita stared at the ground, fists on her hips, wondering whether to laugh or groan. Or smack him. “Yes, well, dragon mistresses get to sleep in big beds. The good ones at least.”

“Hmm, but what about the bad ones—”

Leita’s open palm met his face when he swooped in to steal a kiss. “No,” she denied, “your bad jokes will have to wait.”

“Bad?” he echoed.

Ignoring him, Leita took their supplies off Thalia’s back, allowing the unicorn to shake out her mane.

I’ll return in a few days, said Thalia. Good luck with him.

I think I’ll need it.

Let him make it up to you. He can be useful in bed at least—

All right, goodbye, mama mare.

They both bid Thalia farewell. Then, with bags slung over their shoulders and Slinky secured safely in Attalus’s buttoned pocket, there was nothing left to do but step off the cliff.

Attalus followed her over, his great wings easily catching the air. Whereas hers beat rapidly, almost too quickly to see, his stretched wide to utilize the updraft coming off the water. He soared out to sea, his dark hair and tail billowing behind him. In the fading light, he truly looked a dragon prince, the salt and sea a natural habitat.

Of course, his natural state was flirtation. Leita didn’t know how he managed to fly and flirt at the same time, but he did. He didn’t attempt too many barrels or looping arcs, likely thinking of poor Slinky, but he made it clear as he banked and glided around her which of them was the stronger flier.