Chapter 21
Leita hadn’t meant to be away for quite so long. By the time she opened her bedchamber door with magic, her hands full carrying a tray laden with warm breakfast, the sun was already high in the sky.
She’d dozed off so long the night before, comfortable and relaxed from the bath and holding her azai, she’d almost slipped into a long sleep.
It’d taken great effort to rouse herself from the warm spot beside Attalus, and she’d watched Slinky scurry to take her spot in Attalus’s arms with no small amount of jealousy.
So it wasn’t with enthusiasm that she’d finally donned a few comfortable robes and went in search of Charis.
Leita had found her, as she thought she would, in her office, amongst her many rare books and message crystals and endless sheaves of paper.
Pleased to see her and hear of their journey back, Charis had listened patiently as the sun rose.
Leita had meant to go back right after—possibly even ousting Slinky from her spot—but then Ladies Idrisil and Eilean had stopped in and wanted to hear the tale, too. Lady Eilean hadn’t let Leita go without promises to bring Attalus before the council as soon as possible.
“We have to know what we’re dealing with,” had been Eilean’s ominous reason.
Leita made promises as noncommittally as she could before fleeing for the kitchens.
There, she was pleased to find better fare than the last time.
A tray was made up for her of fresh sweet breads, fruit compote, heavy cream, butter, syrup, and thick cuts of ham.
Her mouth watered the long way back to her bedchamber, and Attalus would be lucky to get a bite at all with how good everything smelled.
She did look forward to getting to wake her dragon, though. He no doubt would still be asleep, enjoying the comfort of her bed.
At least, so she’d thought. She walked into her chamber to find it bright, the curtains pushed open, and the bed empty. Well, not entirely. Slinky lay near the foot rolled into a tight ball.
Rustling sounds emanated from the closet room at the far side of the chamber. Bewildered, Leita shut the door behind her and placed the tray on her desk. After shooting Slinky, whose head popped up with the smells, a warning finger, Leita went to investigate.
“Attalus?” she called. What could he be doing already? She’d unpacked everything last night.
He emerged from the closet—and Leita halted in the middle of the room in astonishment.
What’d he been doing? Raiding her coffers, it seemed.
Out of her closet stepped a dragon prince dripping in finery.
Strings of pearls and chains of gold hung round his neck, several with jewels dangling at their centers.
A thick chain of gold had been wound round his waist in something of a belt, accenting his trim abdomen.
He’d added ear caps to those already on his horns, and bracelets sparkled on his wrists.
A skirt of some sort had been sacrificed, shortened into a flowing kilt. At his hips he wore a finely tooled belt studded with jewels. His chest was bare but laden with jewelry; he’d even slid bangles onto his tail and added more earrings to his lobes.
As Queen, Leita of course had a closet full of finery.
Most of it had been sourced by Charis and Carenza.
The jewelry had been chosen out of the royal collection—Leita requested nothing that Amaranthe had preferred.
Almost all of it had sat idle in the dark, save for on those rare occasions, such as her coronation, when Leita could be talked into wearing some of it.
When Carenza and Ondra outfitted Leita in items from the closet, she’d never looked half so…dazzling.
Most stunning of all was the smile that spread across his lips when he saw her. “There you are, agae. Good morning. I’m dressed, but—” he held up a coronet with three rubies dangling from the center “—is this too much?”
Leita nearly choked. “Erm…”
“Yes, you’re right.” He tossed the coronet onto an unused chair. “This should be enough.” Attalus strode across the chamber to her, taking both her hands in his and kissing the backs. “I hope this will do to meet your council.”
“Oh, um, no need to stand on ceremony. I was going to wear my usual clothes.”
His brows arched in a way that said without words he disagreed. “I’m not meeting your council in homespun, doe, and neither are you.”
“What?”
His grin turned roguish, and he held up a finger, requesting she wait as he went back into the closet for something else.
He soon returned with one of her elegant silk gowns.
It was a pearlescent white that shone purple and green depending on the light.
Although one of her favorites, as it was comfortable and only a few layers, she’d never worn it.
“This will do nicely,” he declared. “I thought it best we match.” He waved at himself, indicating his own ensemble.
She realized, yes, the kilt and jewelry he’d chosen would pair well with her gown.
“It seems a bit much just to see the council,” she muttered.
“They want to meet the royal couple, yes? Let’s give it to them.”
Leita met his gaze in surprise, and he winked.
“I was born in a royal court, Leita. We Savrakae are ostentatious, yes, because we understand the importance of appearance.”
“Gaudy, more like,” she teased.
Attalus’s grin widened. “Indeed.” Spinning her round, he gathered her back to his front and kissed her shoulder. “There’s something to be said for beguiling your way into getting what you want.”
“So you’ve expertly shown me.”
Lady Eilean had said she and the rest of the council wanted to know what they were dealing with, but Leita suspected that Attalus was far beyond any of their wildest imaginings. Every pair of eyes widened at the sight the two of them made entering the bare council chamber.
He positively glittered in the midday sun, splashing fractals of light across the stone walls. Oiled and shining, his scales seemed to burn iridescent, flashing between ruby, poppy, and saffron.
Attalus escorted her to her spot at the head of the council, and Leita had to admit, she was proud to stand next to him. And glad he’d talked her into the gown. She would’ve looked positively dowdy compared to the bright, blinding vision Attalus made.
There hadn’t been a seat set out for him—perhaps more than just a few elders doubted her story of finding an azai—but this would almost seem intended the way Attalus played it.
Gracefully taking her hand laid on his crooked arm, he helped her sit.
Faced away from the others, Attalus threw her a wink.
Maybe the coronet wasn’t too much.
Straightening, Attalus met the many stares with an open confidence, his stance wide and his tail swishing. The beginnings of a grin teased his lips, as though he found the council before him amusing and only just held it back.
Leita cleared her throat, and more than one fae startled. She’d been totally forgotten in the face of a dazzling dragon princeps, and, honestly, she understood.
“May I introduce Attalus Princeps, Savrakae diadochos, and my azai.”
With utmost poise, Attalus swept his right leg in a circle to rest it directly behind the left before executing a perfect bow. Wings outstretched and balanced precisely, he held the difficult pose as he returned the stunned gazes of all present.
“It gives me great pleasure to be welcomed so warmly to my mate’s home.”
Charis’s lips twitched at his subtle dig. Yes, Leita already suspected the two of them would get along well—so long as Attalus behaved.
Stiff introductions were made one by one, and if anyone had asked Leita her assessment, she would’ve said Attalus conducted himself flawlessly, the picture of courtly etiquette. It was some of her council who remained on the back foot, giving Leita secondhand mortification.
Clearly consternated by Attalus being the only one standing, Tamerlan said, “Forgive the oversight of a chair for you, I didn’t realize…”
“A castellan is always overworked, please pay it no mind. We dragons do enjoy heights, after all.”
Tamerlan straightened, blinking in surprise. Perhaps he thought a reprimand was coming, not a gentle teasing.
Lady Eilean sniffed. “And how are we to address such an…esteemed Savrakae?”
“Please don’t trouble yourself, Elder Eilean,” Attalus answered, “there are plenty of choices. My prince will do in a pinch. Prince consort for every day. And Attalus Princeps for more formal occasions.”
Leita didn’t think it possible for anyone to make Lady Eilean turn more sour, but her very lips disappeared into her mouth as she glowered at Attalus.
“And are we to consider this a diplomatic visit or…?” Lady Eilean sniffed.
“Diplomatic to an extent but a visit? No.” He smiled wide, showing off all his fangs. “Human kingdoms enjoy trading their children to solidify treaties, yes? Consider me an offering, then.”
“Indeed. And what exactly are we getting for you?”
Charis and Idrisil shot Eilean disapproving glares, but the latter pointedly ignored them. Attalus, however, only grinned wider.
“Something invaluable,” he claimed. “The happiness of our Queen and the security of her line.”
Leita’s cheeks erupted with a blush, but absolutely no one paid her any attention anyway. Actually, she wasn’t the only one blushing, especially not when Attalus opened a wing to frame her in her seat, a clear, proprietary message.
Lady Eilean harrumphed.
“I don’t mean any offense, but it seems this most important task wasn’t accomplished within this council. So I will happily, dutifully take my place beside our Queen.”
Leita didn’t know whether to laugh or bury her face in her hands, and she wasn’t alone. She exchanged astonished looks with Carenza over the top of Tamerlan’s head. If she was reading the glitter in Attalus’s eyes correctly, he was actually having fun.