Chapter 10
Attalus wasn’t surprised about Leita’s fiery demeanor when she returned. In fact, he met it with his own sour mood.
She hadn’t said she’d be staying away for two nights, leaving him to worry alone over the gorgoroi, her wellbeing, as well as a growing ache in his limbs.
It seemed he wasn’t quite as healed as either of them had thought, and whatever residual magic of hers remained inside him had weakened with distance.
So when she marched moodily up to the cave three days after leaving him, a scowl on her face and determination stiffening her shoulders, Attalus met her head on, arms crossed and tail lashing.
“Where have you been?” he asked at the same time she demanded, “Why are there dragons above my lands?”
The ferocity of their respective outbursts made the other blink.
Attalus was the first to recover, stepping into Leita’s space. “Your lands?” he purred. “Well, well, what aren’t you telling me, phetala?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” she retorted, each no coming with a vicious poke at the center of his chest. “You’re going to tell me exactly what’s brought you here—and why you’re being followed.”
“We don’t know for certain those dragons were looking for me.”
Leita let loose a derisive snort. Yes, Attalus didn’t think there was much hope in that argument, either.
“So you saw them, too.” Not a question. “Who are they? What do they want? And why are you here?” Again with the poking.
Attalus snatched up her attacking hand, giving the offending finger a little nip in retribution. He grinned to see her surprise—he’d stunned her silent, at least for the moment. Giving in to temptation, Attalus nuzzled her palm before kissing the center and placing it on his cheek.
“I’ll tell you everything, agae, as a good mate should,” he crooned, reeling her further into the curve of his body. She rocked forward, so close they shared breath. He watched her plush lilac lips part and appreciated the delicate swoops of her lashes. Damn, what’d he been angry about again?
Daring to run the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers, Attalus whispered, “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours, too.”
Leita’s head jerked backwards, but he kept firm hold of her hand, not letting her fully escape.
“What are you talking about?”
Now who’s being obtuse.
“Controlling rainstorms, communing with the faelands itself…these aren’t the actions of an average, everyday fae.”
Leita frowned, and he watched her thoughts whizzing quickly by in her eyes. Truly, this creature had no guile. It made playing with her all the more fun—but Attalus reminded himself this wasn’t a silly game. It was a game with high stakes that he couldn’t afford to lose.
“You don’t know that,” she muttered without much conviction.
“I may be the most charming of my siblings, and the least cutthroat, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid, agae,” he told her, an edge to his voice. He’d happily be all charm and smiles for her, but it was necessary she understood he wasn’t a fool.
Her glare was so baleful, it might’ve disintegrated lesser men.
Luckily for her, he was made of sterner stuff.
Still, for a moment he thought she’d refute him.
That, in her eyes, he wasn’t charming but indeed stupid.
The idea made him ache worse than the venom.
Considered a fool by his own true mate wasn’t something Attalus would ever want.
He couldn’t say what she found as she searched his gaze. Attalus stood strong against the inspection, a shiver running up his spine to realize just how important her assessment was to him.
Rather than answering him, she stepped back to give herself room to pull a bulging bag from her back. “I brought you things from town.”
Attalus took the bag when she handed it over but didn’t open it—valiantly fighting his acquisitiveness.
“Thank you, agae, but first I think—”
She pointed at the bag. “Trou first, and then we’ll talk.”
Leita turned away to unload the saddlebags packed atop Thalia. The mare met his baffled expression, flapping her lips at him in a horsey laugh.
You’ve got explaining to do, lizard, the unicorn taunted.
Attalus made a rude gesture at the mare while Leita’s back was turned. Before she could look over her shoulder to see what Thalia nickered about, Attalus bent to open the bag.
Inside, he found all manner of little comforts and luxuries.
Sturdy wool trou, muslin shirts, a finely carved comb, soaps, blankets, a bedroll, an elongated pillow, little sacks of herbs, spice and salts, vials of mineral oil and tonics, a tin of salve, a small frying pan, a set of knives, rags, and a few more odds and ends.
It would’ve brought a tear to Attalus’s eye—if it didn’t make him suspicious.
These were all the things he’d need to be self-sufficient here in the cave. On his own.
After Attalus pulled out the trou, Slinky scrambled up the side of the bag and dove into the interior. Each happy squeak was quieter than the last as she delved deeper.
As Slinky played and Leita organized all the rest she’d brought with her, Attalus made a few adjustments to the trou. He cut a little incision at the middle of the back waistband to allow for his tail, making the trou loose around the hips but snug at the thighs.
Their tails were why Savrakae preferred kilts and loose robes. Or nakedness.
That, and trou didn’t sit entirely comfortably against scales.
When he found a belt near the top of the bag, Attalus was touched to think Leita had considered his predicament.
With the new pair donned, Attalus adjusted the belt and took a few lunging steps to accustom himself to the feel of fabric encasing his legs.
Why do other folk enjoy these? He’d seen humans wear them, of course, but in the warmer climes of Bargarad, many of them wore light robes.
Finally, content that the trou wouldn’t split should he move wrong, Attalus considered himself dressed.
Even if it wasn’t his preferred kilt, it was a bit of a relief to be tucked away again.
Although he considered himself to be of fine form, the days and especially nights here were markedly cooler.
Leita, her back to him, straightened from where she’d been crouching. Fists on her hips, she seemed to be having one of those silent conversations with the unicorn.
Attalus sidled up to her, wrapping an arm around her middle to draw her back into his body.
“I’m suitably attired, my lady. We can trade secrets now—although, I do have an amendment to our agreement.”
“We didn’t…” Leita sighed, peering over her shoulder to squint at him. “What amendment?”
“I want a kiss for every truth.”
She sputtered and elbowed him in the middle, but Attalus didn’t let go.
“That would make it unequal,” she argued, a lovely blush deepening the purple of her cheeks.
“No, I’d give you a kiss in return for every truth, too.” He positively twinkled at her while she stared at him flatly.
“This still sounds unequal.”
“You haven’t received one of my kisses yet,” he whispered at her ear.
Leita scrunched up her shoulders and began to wriggle. “Are you ever not flirting?”
“Of course. Sometimes I’m asleep.”
“Ugh.”
Laughing merrily, Attalus had mercy and released her. He bore her scowl with dignity, helping her arrange the rest of what she’d brought from town into something of a little nest for the two of them.
When Attalus laid his new bedroll alongside her blanket, Leita moved the blanket further down the wall of the cave. So Attalus followed, again putting their bedding together. They did this twice more before Leita sighed in exasperation and frowned at him.
Attalus just grinned and sat himself down on the foot of his bedroll. He patted his knee, indicating Leita should sit in his lap, but he didn’t expect her to. Which was good, because she didn’t.
Elegantly folding her legs under her, Leita sat across from him on her own blanket, her mien gone serious.
Attalus tried to mirror her, working to keep his features neutral.
It took effort, though, as the idea of learning more about his Leita—and possibly getting kisses—was thrilling.
He couldn’t stop the tip of his tail from curling and uncurling on the floor of the cave, as though it wanted to wrap around her.
To be fair, it did. If he could, he’d loop it round her waist and never let go.
For now, he did his best to pay attention and give Leita the gravitas she seemed to require.
“You first,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“I told you that already, I was wounded and fell.” Leaning forward onto his hands to bridge the distance, he smiled in her face. “Kiss, please.”
She tipped him backwards with a finger to his forehead. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Sighing, Attalus conceded the point. “Very well. I am Attalus Princeps, diadochos of the mad king, half-brother to Araxos Anax, and son of a murdered mother.” He noticed how her nostrils flared at that last fact.
“And how did all of that get you here with a bite taken out of you?” When he arched his brows expectantly, she shook her head. “You’re still answering my first question. No kiss.”
“Hmph.” Well, his mother had always said he was reward-oriented. Whereas Theron would do something just because it was right, Attalus had always been partial to a treat or reward.
So, he told Leita the sorry story of being called away from Bargarad to a mysterious meeting in Highhome. He skipped through the days in the Maw; nothing of note had happened, and so he was soon taking her through Erastus’s accusation and flimsy evidence.
“To be clear, you didn’t attempt to poison the anax, correct?” He didn’t appreciate her tone, as though she couldn’t quite decide if he’d be that stupid.
“Of course not,” he grumbled. “I supported Araxos in overthrowing our father. I’ve been loyal to his reign. What use have I for the dais?”
Leita shrugged. “It’s common to scheme for power, especially when that power can offer safety.”