Chapter 21 #2
“Yes, yes, the joys of the azai, we all offer our congratulations,” said Lady Eilean, unwilling to quit the field just yet.
“However, I hope it’s not your intention to mislead this council already.
You say your arrival here is diplomatic to an extent, but the dragons sighted above the faelands don’t seem to be an escort. ”
Leave it to Eilean to find the one issue that could turn the council against Attalus. Leita didn’t want to be in open conflict with them—each one had supported her and provided invaluable assistance in this difficult transition. But Attalus was her azai. He was nonnegotiable.
It was time Leita made that clear.
“Attalus’s position within the Droplets is precarious,” she said, “but not so here.”
Even Attalus looked at her in amazement.
Leita nodded, reaffirming her point. “Araxos Anax has levied false charges against Attalus, causing him to flee the Droplets for his life. It’s true that Attalus is a fugitive, but he’s also my azai.
We are bound. A threat to him is a threat to me.
” It was a warning meant for not just her council but Araxos himself.
“My aim is to resolve this matter with Araxos Anax peacefully. Attalus is my mate but also a subject now of the faelands and therefore under my protection.”
It didn’t surprise her when Marcades spoke up, his face especially stern to hear this news. “My Queen, this could threaten the entire faelands, and with the border still weakened—”
“I’m aware, captain. I don’t do this lightly.
I am Queen of the Faelands and mean to protect my land and people.
All of them.” She laid a hand meaningfully on Attalus’s forearm.
“This may not have begun diplomatically, but we can endeavor to solve it so. Open another line of contact with Highhome by way of Balmirra.”
Charis nodded, scratching at her copious notes. “We can begin with dialogue over why there are dragons over our skies.”
Leita agreed; it was a simple way to broach the subject without showing their hand. Attalus’s presence would only be revealed when the time was right.
“The best way to keep everyone safe is for Attalus’s presence to remain a strict secret for now. I trust all of you to act with appropriate discretion.”
Not everyone was convinced, and the number of unhappy faces avoiding her gaze troubled Leita. She would have to trust that each of them cared enough about the security of the faelands and therefore Leita to abide by her command.
When no further arguments or questions arose, Leita took that as acceptance.
“Now, what are today’s matters?”
With her question, the usual rhythm of a council meeting took hold.
There were details on the new prospective silver mines, as well as, finally, some heartening news that the silk weavers had not only met goals but exceeded them.
The foodstuffs and cooks from Hallevale had arrived and were being deployed across Fallorian.
“I noticed an improvement already,” Leita remarked.
Charis grimaced. “It’s true that the output has improved, but sentiment remains divided, I’m afraid.”
“Then Leita must go out into the city, to be amongst the people,” suggested Attalus.
More than a few awkward glances and frowns met Attalus’s statement. He’d remained quiet once the discussion moved on from him, listening attentively, but it was clear that several on the council didn’t appreciate his input.
Leita cleared her throat. “We tried that already.” She’d told him before of the fae’s reluctance to eat and drink again, how the issue had become a true bane to her.
“Good, then there’s a precedent. Go out again, speak with anyone who wishes. Even if it’s a complaint, let them be heard.”
“We’ve thus far had complaints directed to me, the duana-daín of the city,” explained Lady Idrisil. “I take what’s most important to the Queen.”
“An excellent system, we wouldn’t want to burden our Queen. But we mustn’t hoard her to ourselves, either. Leita must become a familiar face. Talk to the orc merchants, eat more of the food, ask what the people are needing. Then deliver it. There’s no better way to build good will.”
“He’s right,” Charis agreed, having the grace not to look too smug about it.
Hmm, perhaps an alliance between the two of them might be more troublesome than Leita thought.
No one could find a true argument against Attalus’s idea, not even Leita. Reluctantly, she agreed, although without enthusiasm. It meant more awkward meetings and false smiles and disgruntled stares.
“I did have one more suggestion, my Queen,” Charis offered.
“I’ve written to my brothers, both celebrated horticulturists in our province.
They are able to come to Fallorian to help cultivate the gardens here.
Mother and I thought perhaps some may be more open to adopting the old ways if they grew some of the food themselves. ”
“Many find keeping a garden rewarding,” said Attalus, adding his support.
Troublesome alliance indeed.
“If they’re willing to come, we’ll gladly take their help,” Leita agreed. They had to try something, else it would come down to Leita’s idea of smashing faces into bowls of food and commanding them to eat. Cathartic perhaps, but not practical.
That decided, the meeting wound down, to Leita’s relief.
Attalus offered his hand and she took it. Once she’d stood, the council did too, bidding her farewell as she left on the arm of her dragon mate.
In the safety of the next corridor, Leita let out a big breath. “That was…less agonizing than usual.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I enjoyed myself to be honest; it’s always nice to sharpen the claws.” He patted her hand tucked into his elbow as he threw her a roguish smile. “Now, I think we’ve earned luncheon and perhaps a nap on that glorious big bed of yours.”
Introducing Attalus to the palace was a joy Leita hadn’t expected. While she’d rarely felt at home within its bare walls, showing them off to someone else did foster a kind of pride. She knew her way around by now, at least, guiding him through the kitchens, the storerooms, and the pavilions.
He liked the crystal pavilion most of all, his instinctual love of gems and all things that glittered apparent as he inspected every geode and rock.
More than once, she found him lounging beneath one of the cypress trees amongst the crystals in the afternoon.
For the sake of the staff, he kept his kilt on at least, although she’d overheard Tamerlan mutter, “Do they all have to be white?”
The linen and silks left little to the imagination about Attalus’s…contours, but Leita wanted him to be comfortable.
Attalus excelled at making himself so. It was quickly clear to not just her but all the fae within the palace that he was something of an expert in luxury.
He knew how to pick the finest fabrics, wines, and gems. Whenever he dove into her closet, he always emerged with the prettiest gowns and jewels.
He was keen to discover it all, but when he asked over her favorite place in the palace, they didn’t have to travel far. It was right there, on her very own balcony overlooking the sea.
“I chose this room for its view,” she told him one evening, as they sat on cushions sharing a plate of cheese, grapes, and salted meat.
He made an appreciative noise, admiring the view. Leita couldn’t help admiring her own—that of him, propped up on an elbow, his other wrist balanced on his bent knee as he held his half-full goblet. He was the picture of male relaxation, even his tail curling and uncurling lazily.
So he surprised her with his sharp observation. “You’ve kept an escape.”
Leita nearly choked on the grape she chewed. Fuck, had it been that obvious?
His smile was gentle when he noticed her distress. He didn’t press or ask more, and so Leita didn’t either. Instead, she ate her grapes carefully, not sure whether to be impressed or dismayed that he’d seen through her so quickly.
The following day, she decided it was time to show him the darker side of the palace. She’d warned him of the miasma, of course, but nothing compared to seeing it for oneself.
Attalus’s wings bobbed before tucking tight to his back, his mouth thinning into a moue of disgust as they walked through hall after hall of dusty, muzzy palace.
He held her hand tight as they made a quick tour of the notable places; the Queen’s formal chambers, the formal council rooms, the library, the royal family suites, and the citadel.
Leita hadn’t tarried there in some time. She’d no attachment to the hallowed space like she did the family suites. She and her younger cousins hadn’t been allowed to play there, and the adults only seemed to gather within for serious matters that didn’t interest Leita.
Still, the tangled, gutted mess of it was appalling.
Most of the floor had fallen into lower levels, leaving a groaning opening that let in eerie gusts of wind.
The central stained-glass window had been blown away, what remained of the metal cames bent outward, perfect for the seabirds to stop and roost.
The miasma was thick here, coating what floor was left in an itchy carpet of fuzz. It covered blood spatter left over from the horrible battle that’d taken place here. Many orcs, fae, and unicorns had died to finally overthrow Amaranthe and reinstate balance within the faelands.
Attalus huffed, blowing dust out of his nose. “Please say I can knock this down.”
“It’s very tempting.”
Before his sneezing became too bad, she led him away, to a nondescript staircase that led down, down, down into the bowels of the palace. A place so deep, it was more bedrock than palace.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” he asked suddenly.
“What?” Leita turned to shoot him a baffled look. He was almost always flirting, but this didn’t feel the same.
His mouth stretched into something between a grin and a grimace. “I’m acquainted with what dungeons look like, doe.”
“Oh.” Leita squeezed his hand. “This isn’t a dungeon, I promise.”