Chapter 23 #2
“All for now,” he answered Tamerlan. “But while I have you, let’s talk art. What does the palace have in the way of statuary?”
While Leita didn’t relish spending another afternoon in the city, this time at least wasn’t so painful. Indeed, she found Gereon and Arnhem Meringor’s talk on keeping home gardens fascinating. She’d already formed so many ideas listening to their explanations of root systems and mulch.
Perhaps one of the formal gardens or pavilions in the palace could be converted.
Attalus wouldn’t want her to touch the crystal pavilion, of course, but there were several others.
She quite liked the idea of growing vegetables, and she meant to ask the brothers about planting various fruit trees throughout the palace grounds.
What was even better—she wasn’t alone in her enthusiasm.
After a gentle nudge from Charis, Leita finally looked away from the brothers to glance at the people gathered.
Lady Idrisil had done a commendable job spreading word throughout Fallorian about the arrival of two famed horticulturists, and dozens if not hundreds of fae had assembled in one of the city’s finest parks to listen.
Plant beds had been brought in for demonstration, and seeds were on offer once the talk concluded. Leita smiled to see how interested those listening were, asking questions over bed dimensions and fertilizer options. Some even took notes.
A resounding round of applause went up when the brothers concluded, and Leita’s heart swelled to see so many line up to collect their seeds.
She braced herself when the first few fae approached where she stood off to the side with Charis and Ondra.
A man and woman bobbed their heads. “An excellent topic, my Queen. We look forward to growing our own garden,” said the woman.
“You were right to bring such experts to the capital,” said the man, “all the best minds should be here.”
“Thank you,” Leita said, accepting their praise.
And the couple weren’t alone. While some avoided her gaze or left without taking any seeds, there were others who acknowledged Leita and her efforts. She received a few more nods and bows, a handful more thanks, and plenty of open gazes.
It was a vast improvement, and Leita wanted to pinch herself. Instead, she squeezed Charis’s hand.
“It’s working!” she whispered.
“Indeed so,” Charis whispered back, grinning. She nudged Leita’s shoulder with her own. “It’s what I hoped, and it helps that they see you like this.”
Leita nodded. She didn’t necessarily look forward to more outings, but finally making some headway did at least offer a kind of consolation. If she could see these efforts paying dividends, then it might just be worth it.
Although it frightened her, she had to practice at this, too. She might never be elegant or refined, but she could learn to be queenly.
Charis looked down the length of Leita’s simple skirt, not for the first time. “This suits you. That azai of yours has an eye for these things. But don’t tell him that, it’ll go right to his head.”
Leita knew better, of course. Attalus’s head was already large enough.
While Attalus hadn’t chosen her garb for the day, he had made sure options she might like and reach for were moved to the front of the closet and easy to find.
She liked the flowing trou he brought her and the simple silky skirts.
Given a set of options to choose from, the choice hadn’t felt so overwhelming.
She didn’t need a ballgown to attend a horticulture lecture. However, not looking like she’d just come from the garden did seem to help, too.
“He has a way of knowing what I like,” Leita admitted.
“He’s perceptive, that one. Always looking to please.” Charis peered out at the remaining crowd, observing, “He seems to please you, my Queen. I can see it just there, in your cheek. That you’re…happier.”
Whether it was choosing to trust Attalus or rolling across the bed with him in passionate lovemaking, something had shifted between them. Leita found herself smiling—without reason, she just smiled.
Attalus was never far from her thoughts.
“He makes me happy.”
“Good. You deserve a little happiness.”
Leita nodded, not used to accepting all this praise and positivity.
“The people sense it, too.”
Leita considered the crowd, the hum of lively chatter filling the warm air. “Do you think so?”
“It’s in our kind’s nature to attune to the mood of our Queen. Especially after centuries under a Queen such as her.”
Leita sobered, nodding that she understood.
Charis put into words something Leita had noticed but not been able to articulate.
The fae watched her closely, warily—not just because they mistrusted her but for their own self-preservation.
If their very lives depended on a Queen’s whim, best to not only be observant but silent.
The realization gave Leita much to consider, and she mulled over these thoughts while they bid the Meringor brothers farewell and headed back to the palace. Just inside the palace walls, they were greeted by Marcades, as usual, and Carenza was there as well, handing over a crisply folded letter.
“This just came for you, my Queen.”
Leita recognized the purple wax and crow seal. Grinning, she bid her companions farewell and, with only Ondra and Carenza behind her, climbed up into the palace to her bedchamber.
Opening the door revealed Attalus and Tamerlan there, standing amongst a collection of sitting furniture. They seemed to be in the midst of a heated argument over arranging the sedan and other chairs.
Tamerlan straightened at the sight of Leita. “Ah, my Queen, thank the goddesses—” he muttered that last part “—I’ll get out of your way.”
Hurrying as quickly as could still be called polite, Tamerlan made his escape, Attalus calling after him, “Coward!”
Leita hid her giggle behind her hand before dismissing her attendants. Carenza shut the door behind them, leaving Leita alone with her fussing mate—and their new furniture.
“You’ve been busy, I see.”
Attalus moved the chair Tamerlan had been holding to where he wanted before responding. “Indeed I have. Come see the fruits of my labor.”
Biting her cheek, Leita approached to admire his work. It was a fine arrangement of seating, sedan, cushioned benches, and chairs all gathered round a low table already set with a golden platter of grapes, figs, and cheese.
While somewhat ostentatious, they bore a familiar design to other furniture throughout the palace.
“You chose these?” she asked, running her hands over the fine red velvet.
“Sorry, the storerooms were out of good tree stumps.” He winked at her when she made mock offense. “In truth, I had limited options. I’m having Tamerlan source more fabrics.”
“Really? This seems quite fine.”
“It’s old—and clashes with the blue walls. I was thinking an amethyst velvet, to complement your beautiful skin.”
Leita blushed despite herself. Rather than let him see too much and get ideas, she rounded one of the chairs to sit. The springs in the cushion creaked, but once settled, it was a comfortable seat.
“The perfect place to read my letter,” she said, flourishing the paper before cracking the seal.
Attalus tracked the paper through the air, his intense curiosity fixing on it. “Oh? Who writes?”
“Ravenna, Queen of the Orcs. She has a lot to say for herself.”
He said something else, no doubt amusing, but Leita’s attention fell onto Ravenna’s writing.
My dearest Leita,
That’s Queen Conniving Bitch to you.
I didn’t know until I sent my last note, but I suspected, yes. If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have gone along with my plan. Or at least not willingly.
I will take full credit, of course. If you hadn’t deposed She of the Hag Face, how would your dragon have found you at all?
As for what to do with a dragon, I hear most are excellent lovers. Do write me back and tell me all about him, I want to hear everything! Is it true their tongues are forked?
We missed you at the wedding. I’ll write more about it when you’re less cross with me. For now, just know, I looked breathtaking.
And please be assured, you and the faelands will have whatever you need from Balmirra. Don’t worry—and tell Charis not to worry, either.
Your best and dearest friend,
Ravenna
Leita laughed until her eyes watered. It wasn’t until her belly unclenched, the laughter fading, that she realized Attalus hovered above her, the most adorable pout on his lips, as though a few moments of her attention on anything but him was a great loss.
“What news?”
Patting his cheek, Leita told him of Ravenna’s power and the vision she’d had for Leita. As she explained the previous letters between them, Attalus’s pout melted into a grin.
“Well, at least you’re writing about me.”
She snorted, another bout of laughter clutching her tight. It only grew worse when he pouted again, his tail whipping behind him.
“Right.” Plucking the letter from her hand, he set it on the low table before ducking to put his shoulder into her middle. With a hup, he threw her over his back. “Enough of a break. Time to give your attention to more important matters.”
Leita wriggled between his wings. “We’ll be late for dinner.”
“You’re the Queen, you can’t be late.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true. Eep!”
Attalus bent, casting her down onto the bed. Leita erupted in giggles as she bounced in the soft bedding and couldn’t stop even when her determined dragon prowled over her.
“You’re in a good mood,” he noticed.
“I am. I’m…happy.”
His nostrils flared, and she didn’t miss how his lips twitched, wanting to smile, but he held onto his pout resolutely.
“Why do you sulk?” she asked, tracing his lips. Each fingertip got a little nip.
“I want to be the one who makes you happy. Who makes you laugh.”
It wasn’t what she’d thought he’d say. And while his tone carried its usual haughty confidence, there was something else in it too, a vulnerability that made her ache so sweetly.