Chapter 24
Attalus had made the suggestion of adding a few landing platforms and various other perches around the palace mostly in jest, but seeing the vein popping at Tamerlan’s forehead only sold him on the idea.
“Just think of it,” Attalus proclaimed, “a redwood platform over there, with a turned mahogany balustrade for safety. It could work as a viewing platform as well, overlooking the sea.”
Attalus pricked the inside of his cheek with a fang to keep from laughing as Tamerlan turned an interesting shade of puce. He didn’t realize fae could change colors so drastically, but the castellan managed it.
“I’m not sure how practical such a project will be,” Tamerlan said carefully.
“Why not? Your Queen’s consort enjoys flying—and safe, smooth landings. I’m sure all the women of your kind would appreciate it, too.” They, like Leita, had wings of their own, after all. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your womenfolk, Tamerlan.”
“And where do you propose we put this…addition, my prince?” Tamerlan’s lips moved as little as possible asking the question, and Attalus suspected addition wasn’t his first choice of word.
“As I understand it, the citadel will need to be replaced next spring. Perhaps in the new design, a platform could be worked in.”
Tamerlan’s eye twitched. “The citadel is a sacred space of our people, where dozens of Queens have sat their throne to rule the faelands.”
“And yet it hasn’t a floor. Only bats and birds can enter now.”
The castellan’s horror was absolute, although, as the palace’s overseer, he likely knew about every creature within it, including the bats and birds.
Attalus patted the man’s shoulder. “The new design will be spectacular, you’ll see. Without all the dust and bad memories. And with proper floors.”
A sigh escaped the castellan, hopefully a sound of resignation, but Attalus graciously decided not to push him further. Tamerlan at least had the manners to take notes in front of Attalus—whether they’d be ripped up in a fit of rage later on, wasn’t really Attalus’s business.
“Was that all the improvements you had in mind, Prince Attalus?” asked the castellan, his body tense as though bracing for bad news.
“For today, yes. Thank you, Tamerlan, you’re always the utmost help.
” And while Attalus endeavored to be jovial with the fae of the palace, he did truly mean his praise.
Despite much eye twitching and gusty sighing, Tamerlan did what he could to execute Attalus’s requests, even the more hairbrained ones.
Seemingly surprised by the praise, Tamerlan nodded, his pained expression softening. “You’re welcome, my prince. I will go file this under spring projects and send word to our carpenters for estimates.”
“If anyone can make it happen, it’s you, my friend.” Attalus added a winning smile onto his statement, for a little more butter never hurt a slice of bread.
With that concluded, Attalus decided it was high time to return to his sleeping mate. She’d taken a long sleep, starting yesterday evening after a pleasurable bout of lovemaking. Leita had fallen asleep in the aftershocks of orgasm, Attalus’s cock still deep inside her.
Bundling her up to hold all night had been a particular joy, and Attalus had stayed abed longer than usual just to hold her a little more. His doe carried so many burdens; seeing her face unlined, unworried, made his hearts ache for her. And made him more determined to ease what he could.
Attalus was pleased to see that his improvements were already bearing fruit. Just over a fortnight and already the palace was running more like those he was accustomed to.
It wasn’t that her staff and council were inept or bore ill-will.
Rather, in the void of any direct command from the Queen, the councilors had done their best in their own arenas.
However, the links between these and helping them coexist harmoniously had yet to develop, and so Attalus endeavored to ensure those connections were made.
A little oversight, a little nudge was all they needed.
He knew better than to overstep his bounds or perceived authority, however. He was, of course, an outsider. An obvious one. His presence in Fallorian was still a closely guarded secret. Even though all the palace staff and residents had grown accustomed to him, no one outside the walls knew of him.
Attalus understood the wisdom of the decision, but he was growing bored within the confines. Perhaps it was why he needled Tamerlan and Marcades more than necessary—and dreamt of building platforms from which to take flight and land.
He stretched his wings to full length, getting the blood flowing, before tucking them to his back and heading up higher into the palace.
Maybe a nighttime flight was in order; he needed to keep his flying muscles strong.
And perhaps he might persuade Leita to join him.
He longed to fly with her again, as well as show her how dragons consummated matings.
As Attalus climbed one of the artery staircases up into the residential block of the palace, Charis was coming down, likely headed to her office.
She smiled warmly to see him, and Attalus bowed his head.
“Lady Chancellor.”
“Prince Attalus, good day.” Formalities over, Charis asked, “Are we still discussing the southern ports this evening?”
“Yes, I believe that’s the plan. Leita was looking forward to it. She should be awake soon.”
“Why don’t we talk over dinner—I’ll bring the pertinent maps.”
“Excellent. Until then.”
Bidding Charis farewell, Attalus took the rest of the stairs two at a time.
He enjoyed the chancellor’s company; Charis Meringor was fiercely intelligent and utterly determined to see Leita succeed.
His mate had chosen her chancellor well, and Attalus liked probing her brilliant mind and extensive knowledge of the faelands and beyond.
It seemed Lady Idrisil knew exactly what she was doing, educating Charis to exacting standards should there ever come a time a new Queen sat the faelands’ throne.
He’d only gotten two corridors from the staircase before he ran into a group of elders. These had been the most difficult to woo, but Attalus was making inroads.
Lady Eilean, of course, looked down her nose at him and wouldn’t even bob her head in acknowledgement.
However, Lord Boros and Lady Velentia greeted him, at least, and Lady Idrisil was always kind.
He suspected the latter found him amusing, and that was perfectly all right; he knew how to work with amusing.
After polite greetings, he wasn’t surprised when Lady Velentia brought up Leita. “We haven’t sat to practice with the Queen since your arrival in Fallorian.”
“Her training is too important, she must return to us and connect with the faelands,” insisted Lady Eilean.
“She knows this, I assure you, my lady. Leita thinks of nothing but her duties. In fact, I’m going with her to the grotto this afternoon. She’s making progress, I can feel it.”
Lady Eilean opened her mouth, no doubt to ask how a dragon would know one way or another about any of it, but Lord Boros, the peacemaker of the group, spoke first.
“Queen Leita is a clever girl. She’ll find her way,” said Boros.
“Indeed, she will,” Attalus agreed.
“Hopefully sooner than later,” Lady Eilean muttered.
Attalus smiled at her with the length of his fangs bared. “If you know how to help her, my lady, I implore you not to keep it secret. My mate tries so hard for you and her people—I’m sure she’d appreciate your knowledge on how to finally reach the magic.”
Lady Eilean’s lips curled into her mouth, and Attalus tried not to gloat.
While the elders had done their best, it clearly wasn’t enough.
The nature of Queenship and how it passed from one fae to the next had been a guarded secret within the royal family.
Lady Eilean and the others might have a few more tidbits of information given their age and having served in the palace during the reign of Amaranthe’s predecessor, but that amounted to informed guesswork at best.
“She tries so hard,” Lady Velentia offered. “We appreciate her efforts.”
“That’s right. She has our support,” said Lord Boros.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Attalus allowed his smile to warm and changed the subject. “I’m also glad to have run into you. I hear from Tamerlan that the newest shipments from Kaldebrak and Balmirra have come in.”
Lord Boros perked up. “Have they indeed?”
“He assured me everything ordered was delivered.” Leaning in conspiratorially, Attalus lowered his voice to say, “Including the case of port.”
Lord Boros’s eyes glittered. “They say there’s nothing sweeter than the port of Kaldebrak.”
“I had the pleasure of trying it once, and I can assure you, the stories are true.” Resting a hand on Boros’s shoulder, Attalus told him with a smile, “After our last conversation, I asked the kitchens to set aside a decanter just for you, my lord.”
Boros patted Attalus’s hand. “You’re a good lad. It’s nice to have someone here with such refined tastes.”
Lady Eilean made a noise of disgust, but Boros and Velentia paid her no mind. When they finally bid farewell to Attalus, he’d no doubt Boros was headed straight to the kitchens.
Which actually reminded him, he’d need to stop in today or tomorrow to set next week’s menu, especially now that they had so many new delicacies from the orcish territories. But he was already halfway into his climb, and he didn’t want to delay seeing his mate any longer.
He met a few more souls along his journey, but thankfully none stopped him. His spirit was lighter just entering their quarters. Leita’s scent wafted over him, and the soft colors of the bedchamber soothed his senses.
The double doors to the balcony had been opened to let in the sea breeze, but otherwise the chamber was fairly dim. The gossamer curtains had been pulled on two sides to block out some of the daylight, framing the little lump Leita made on the bed in a halo of soft glow.