Chapter 20
Between flying, walking, and long conversations about the faelands, Fallorian, her council, and other matters of state, it took them about eight days to reach the outskirts of the capital. Although it was a slower journey than she was used to, Leita couldn’t deny the merits of traveling this way.
Merry campfires at night, telling stories and listening to the wildlife, as well as breaks at midday to take meals and discuss the landscape.
Attalus was curious over everything, wanting to know about this road and that hill.
When they reached the Lune River, an afternoon was spent soaking in its bracing waters and catching salmon swimming upriver.
Over another hearty supper, they compared constellation stories and names.
So skilled an orator was Attalus, Leita wasn’t sure she could believe half of what he told her, whether the stories were truly Savrakae myth or his own fancies.
In the end, it didn’t really matter to her, so long as he filled the night with his rich voice.
As they neared Fallorian, Leita bedded down with him to take a light long sleep.
She often laid beside him until he fell asleep, finding comfort in his warmth and solidity.
Although she remained awake, those hours spent laying beside him weren’t wasted; as she breathed in his scent and traced his form with her eyes and fingertips, something deep inside her, something vulnerable and new, began to bloom.
Sleeping in his arms was its own joy. She loved to have her back fitted to his front, the warmth of his chest soothing her folded wings.
She also loved rolling over to embrace him, wrapping her arms around as much of his shoulders as she could.
The great mass of muscle on his back between his wings was of particular fascination; sensitive and vulnerable, she was honored when he told her, “Only mates and fledglings get to lay between wing bases.”
He received many kisses after that along the bases, so many he’d had to beg her to stop unless she wanted reciprocation.
Leita wasn’t opposed, but a tightness in her throat kept her back.
Although she’d tried to leave most of her worries behind in that cave, some had stuck like barnacles to her, calcified and stubborn.
She told herself the tightness would ease once they were in Fallorian.
While she expected surprise and some push back from her council—she’d told them the reason for her leaving, although she suspected some of them hadn’t believed her—that would sort itself out.
Then, Leita would have him in the walls of the palace, a place she could defend. Where the dangers were known.
Out there in the forest, anything could happen.
On the fifth day of travel, they’d spotted another patrol of dragons. Throwing a thick glamour over Attalus, she’d rushed him under the nearest tree. All of them waited, tense gazes turned skyward as they watched the formation circle for too long.
Leita was about to drive them away herself when his hand slid over her waist. “They’re gorgoroi,” he explained, using one of his savraka words she’d never heard. “The anax’s elite warriors. They answer only to him.”
“Then he’s ignored my warning.”
She and Attalus shared a grim look.
The gorgoroi eventually moved on, and so too did their party. They kept to the trees as much as possible, Attalus grumbling as they trampled through dense underbrush to sometimes avoid the road.
When another burr found its way between his toes, the breadth and quality of his cursing was truly astounding.
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.
When Leita decided they were far enough out, they banked to the right, circling round to face Fallorian. Before she could head inland again, his sinuous tail wrapped around her waist. Attalus pulled her into his side, and he captured her mouth in a quick kiss.
“Let’s fly together again soon, yes?” he asked, genuine desire glittering in his eyes.
“I’d like that,” she agreed, feeling shy suddenly.
“Dragons consummate in the sky, you know. Aerial strength and performance are important in a mate.”
Leita cleared her throat delicately. “Let’s see how you do in the bed first.”
She’d surprised him with her quip, and she took great satisfaction in patting his cheek before setting off again.
With a hearty, laughing whoop, he gave chase, swooping along the waves.
Leita couldn’t help her grin as she watched him, his agile body cutting through the air.
This was Attalus as he was meant to be—in his prime, his element.
Dragons were creatures of craggy coastlines, after all.
He followed her upward as the cliff face and then the palace’s many layers and levels rushed past. Up to one of the higher levels, Leita found her balcony. She alighted there, her boots meeting the cool stone. Attalus’s talons made a soft click just behind her.
With a happy sigh, she shed her packs and stretched out her back. Returning to Fallorian wasn’t such a chore this time around, and Attalus had spoken so highly of her own bed, now she was excited for it, too.
Attalus peered around with marked interest, his tail swishing behind him. Something to his left caught his eye, and he leaned over the marble balustrade to get a better look.
“Your tower is leaning,” he noted.
“That’s the citadel,” she explained. “Where the throne used to be.”
“Used to?”