Chapter 12 #2
“Yes, but…” He sighed mightily, and she listened, absolutely not intently, as he rolled to his side, no doubt to face her.
He’d probably have his head on his palm, shoulders propped up on a bent elbow.
Something about his long form laid supine and sinuous like that…
no, she definitely couldn’t afford to look.
“Tell me, if I’d come to you in Fallorian, as an envoy on official state business, perhaps, would you have been able to trust me more easily? ”
Leita frowned, even with her eyes closed. “I…” She didn’t know. That was really the only other way they might’ve met, Attalus sent as a representative of his brother’s court to treat with the new Fae Queen.
“I might’ve had ulterior motives if so. At least this way, you know where my loyalties lie.”
That was optimistic, hyperbolic even. Leita wasn’t confident enough to say his loyalties didn’t lie squarely with himself.
She was practical enough to understand that this was necessary, even expected, given what she’d learned from him about his family and Highhome.
Attalus wanted to survive, and his best chance of it right now was to solidify their bond.
Leita didn’t begrudge him that, but it did make things between them more difficult.
Her nonanswer drew his attention. She felt his gaze upon her profile, tracing her nose and shoulders. She wasn’t surprised to feel his claws plucking at the fabric of her trou along her lower thigh.
“I meant what I said, doe. I can be your family, and you can be mine. Nothing would make me happier.” His voice was low, serious, its resonance making her want to believe.
Settling again onto his back, he had to ruin it by saying, “That was several answers. Kiss, please.”
Leita’s eyes popped open in surprise, only to find that he’d closed his own and even puckered his lips in anticipation of receiving said kiss.
She didn’t ignore him but neither did she bend to bestow a kiss. Instead, she placed two fingers lengthwise across his lips in the facsimile of a kiss. His mouth split into a smile beneath her fingers, and his tongue darted out to catch the pads.
“Incorrigible,” she sighed.
Before she could pull her hand away, he slid his fingers neatly between hers, twining them together.
“I have to be, phetala, else you’ll get away.”
His words gave Leita pause, and she lapsed again into silence. He seemed content to let her ponder now that he had her hand at least to toy with.
Her eyes slid closed once more, but she already knew she’d make no progress. Her mind was too heavy with all he’d said—and what it made her feel.
All I’ve ever done is run. If not from the damnation of her aunt, then the grief that dogged Leita’s every step. And she knew, even as he lay beside her, that she was running from him, too.
The lizard isn’t as dumb as he looks, Thalia remarked.
That’s generous of you.
The mare whickered gently from where she stood a ways off, snuffling through the earth for tasty new shoots. He’s right, you know.
About which part?
More than you want to hear. You may just run right out of excuses, and then you’ll be right where you would’ve been anyway.
Where? Leita asked, indeed not sure she wanted to hear.
Needing to be brave. Happiness is a choice, my most stubborn foal, and you must be brave enough to choose it.
I…don’t know how.
Then perhaps it’s time you learn.
Attalus thought his current strategy, what he termed his gentle wooing, might just be working. Day after day, she seemed to be softening to him. Oh, she was prickly still, sometimes downright tetchy, but she never pushed him away.
He was cautiously optimistic that if he stayed the course, he might just win her over yet.
And then, possibly, have the influence to get them out of the wilderness.
Why they remained there in that cave, Attalus still couldn’t quite understand.
He was fit enough for travel, even if he did tire more easily than before the bite.
The faelands and its magic was omnipresent, if he understood her correctly, so why she had to try communing with it from here wasn’t clear.
He could be patient, and continue sleeping on his bedroll, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten about the comforts of civilization and the indoors.
It was only after days of watching his feral mate that he began to suspect…
they remained out here because she enjoyed it.
She seemed perfectly in her element amongst the trees and streams. Her competence and knowledge of how to survive never ceased to astound him.
Between campfire cooking, sourcing firewood, braiding leather rope, mending boots and tunics, stripping flowers of seeds, and more, Leita seemed to genuinely be having fun.
Which would make it a little harder for Attalus to insist on their returning to some sort of accommodation when the time came. For now, though, he bore the dirt and the hard ground and the simple food. For her.
Strange as she was, Leita possessed her own charm that Attalus found irresistible.
While she might have doubts over their bond and struggle with her new role as Fae Queen, in all other ways, she was elegance and competence incarnate.
He doubted she knew just how lovely she was simply meditating or braiding her long hair or building the day’s fire.
Attalus liked the cold gleam of her eyes, how although they weren’t predatory like a dragon or manticore’s, they were still sharp as diamonds, capable of cutting deep.
What sort of masochist must he be to yearn for her swipes.
Soft or vicious, sweet or feisty, he enjoyed every side of Leita he’d found and wished to find more.
So, it was with delight that he headed for her after his daily stretches. It was time for his and Slinky’s afternoon nap, and he knew just the place.
She merely sighed, noble resignation writ across her placid face, as Attalus settled down beside her. This time, however, wanting to see what she’d do, he lay down in front of her and put his head in her lap.
Attalus bit back his grin to hear her choke on her surprise. Her hands hovered above him, perhaps as she deliberated whether to shove him away or—preferably—stroke his hair. She did neither, however, eventually setting her hands at her sides and opting instead to peer gravely down at him.
“This really doesn’t look comfortable,” she observed.
“You’ll have to try it for yourself next time because it is indeed quite comfortable.” He winked at her before closing his eyes.
“Just watch the horns.”
“Of course, my Queen. Be assured, they’re capped. I’m not a barbarian.”
To his utter delight, he felt her gentle touch along his horns and ears. Although only the barest caress of her fingertip, he held his breath, willing more.
“Do all dragons wear as much jewelry as you?”
Attalus snorted. “This is hardly anything. I’m not fit to be seen with so little adornment.” He said it as a joke, but it was the truth. As princeps, he deserved to be dripping in gold and jewels. He should be able to dazzle his mate—and shower her in even more precious gems and gold.