Chapter 19 #2
“It’s good for my soul to see you, phetala. I’ve missed you.”
That blush of hers returned, and Leita’s hands bobbed up and down, the soaking blankets going with her. She managed a nod, although not a long response. “I…it’s good to see you up.”
“I’m feeling more myself by the moment.” Straightening and stretching, he knew exactly what he did, standing ankle-deep in the stream, the bright summer sun beating down on his naked body. He didn’t miss how her eyes flicked down and back again, her blush deepening.
“You’re still naked.”
“It’s too fine a day to ruin with itchy wool. Besides, my scales long for the sun.”
She made a choked, noncommittal sound before turning back to laundering the blankets.
Attalus tried not to pout. Truly, he did. But he was nothing if not determined—and loathed being ignored when he wanted something.
He made no secret of coming up behind her, so when she jumped to feel his chin on her shoulder, he bore no guilt.
“Don’t hide from me,” he beseeched. “I truly did miss you.”
Leita drew a long breath as he wound an arm around her middle and pulled her back into his chest. She bit her lip when he trailed kisses from her shoulder up her neck to her cheek.
“I just…” She swallowed hard. “You were dying not long ago. I’ve still got that vision in my mind.”
His sigh fluttered over her neck. That’s what he feared. He didn’t want to be her patient, to be seen as an invalid. All this time now, and he was still in the same predicament as when they’d first met—he was at best an inconvenience and at worst a burden to her.
“I’m here, and I’ll get healthier every day,” he assured her, “thanks to you.”
She flushed again, but he didn’t think this a true blush. Instead, something about how she went stiff in his embrace told of her troubled thoughts.
“I don’t deserve any thanks,” she muttered, pulling away from him.
Attalus let her go, sensing she needed the time, as Thalia had warned.
He retreated back to camp with his full skein and frustrations. Matters didn’t improve throughout the day, Leita finding various tasks to keep herself busy and distracted from him. Light on her feet, she was a dancer, twirling and twisting, always dancing away from him.
Attalus resorted to doing lunges and other exercise in the shade of the cave, if only to show her how his body was quickly regaining its strength. He wasn’t sure she saw much of it at all, but at least it felt good to move and stretch after so many days bedridden.
By dinnertime, Attalus was downright cranky, and an almost silent meal didn’t help matters. He was pleased to have Leita back with him, but her strange awkwardness only reinforced that, apparently, nothing had changed from before.
Perhaps he’d hoped in that old trite adage of the heart growing fonder with distance.
Perhaps he wanted to read more into her coming back and healing him.
He didn’t think it was any small matter that she’d cleared away the venom—even for a Fae Queen.
He was a dragon, after all. Fae didn’t have dominion over Savrakae and therefore their magic was supposed to have less effect. That’s what he’d heard, anyway.
She’d seemed to quite literally collapse over him after doing whatever she did. Attalus was grateful, truly, but the longer the silence stretched, the further he felt from her and the more marked their imbalance became.
While he absolutely understood and welcomed the status and protections of such a powerful mate as the Fae Queen herself, he also wished to stand beside her with pride. He wasn’t an old trunk and didn’t want to be a pet, either.
But, as usual, his doe was a hard one to read. Both her mind and heart were surrounded by calluses, toughened over a lifetime of loss and hardship. Attalus sympathized, of course, but he wished he knew how to reach her.
Finally, with dinner done and the fire making the most conversation, Attalus couldn’t stay silent any longer.
“I wish you’d look at me, agae. After all this time away and all you’ve done for me, won’t you say something?”
In his mood, he wasn’t above a little manipulation—even if he wasn’t proud to see her wince at his words. Something had gotten through.
Leita sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. “What I’ve done…” She peeked at him from between her fingers. “I worry you’ll hate me for what I’ve done.”
He cocked his head. “I certainly haven’t liked being without you, but I could never hate you, Leita.” Attalus doubted she had the stomach to do anything that would truly make him hate her.
“You…don’t remember what I did? To heal you?”
Hmm, it seemed she was worried about something he’d missed. “I’m afraid you’ll need to tell me, agae. Then I’ll decide if I’m angry with you.” He winked to ensure she knew he wouldn’t actually get angry.
In halting words, Leita finally described how she’d found him and what all she’d had to do. Of biting through his scales to suck out the venom. Of putting him through the full course of its cycle. And, most importantly, binding his soul to her in an ancient rite.
“A pact is unbreakable without forfeiting your life,” she said, her dejection clear as she stared at the floor.
“That hardly seems to matter in this case, as my life is already yours.”
Leita cringed, and after a moment, Attalus realized what he’d said and how she’d taken it. Grimacing himself, he stood to clear away their supper. They needed no distractions from this discussion—it was something that had to be done before a new day dawned.
“What is it that troubles you so about this?” he asked. She seemed distressed enough over it for the both of them.