Chapter 28 #2
Being Queen was rarely enjoyable, but today was the worst of her reign.
It’d been a long time since Leita had seen death like that, and since she’d been forced to deliver it.
Her hands weren’t clean before today, but her conscience at least had been clear.
Now, though…Ondra’s eyes wouldn’t leave her mind.
“Why?” she whispered into the hollow of Attalus’s throat.
He seemed to know what she asked, even though her question encompassed so much.
“To betray her cause, to see you as anything other than the villain, would be to make herself the villain instead. For some, that’s far worse than death.”
“I never…” Leita choked on the words. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want her to suffer.”
“I know, agae, I know. Everyone who witnessed today knows. Wanting to spare even your enemy such suffering is noble, and when the people find out, they will respect you for it.”
She knew he meant to comfort, and that the people’s respect was a boon she’d striven for. Perhaps she would treasure it tomorrow, or the day after. Today, it was cold comfort.
Leita finally lifted her head, surprised to find that the world outside her hiding place had darkened, the colors more saturated in late-afternoon light. They’d been out there for hours, it seemed.
“Your legs must be tired.”
“I’m right where I want to be.” Attalus held her tighter when she might’ve pushed away. Taking her cheek in his palm so gently it made her heart ache, he wiped the tears that lingered there as he searched her gaze. “It’s more than just this weighing on you, Leita. Will you tell me?”
Everything, every word and worry and feeling, clamored in her throat. Leita nearly choked with everything that wanted out, to escape the confines of her heart. The temptation to unburden herself, at least in this, was keen, and she teetered on the precipice, wishing so badly to be selfish.
When she didn’t answer, he touched her cheek, feeling where she bit it to keep from spewing all her troubles.
“Leita…?”
“I-I don’t want to burden you.”
Attalus sighed, his head falling back onto the wall behind him. He gazed at her from there, and she realized just how exhausted he looked. Grim lines bracketed his unsmiling mouth and underscored his weary eyes.
Instinct to make it better, make it right jumped up her throat, too, superseding everything else.
Before she could decide what to say, what would best alleviate his worries, Attalus said, “We’re together in this, agae. As bonded mates are. We face this life and all its challenges together. Your burdens are mine to shoulder with you.”
Leita’s throat ran dry. “I…I can’t share this burden with you.”
His gaze sharpened. “What burden?”
She didn’t want to admit it, feared even saying the words aloud. If the truth the faelands had shown her in the pool remained in her mind only, perhaps it didn’t have to be real. What if giving them voice somehow made them so?
The unrelenting weight of the magic pressed down on her, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Perhaps it wanted to remain unsaid, too. A secret between the two of them, bound together as they now were, Queen, magic, and land. The sacred cycle.
But her azai looked upon her with such love and concern, she didn’t want to deny him. Leita wanted to say something, if only to ease his worry, but the words wouldn’t come.
“You can’t help me in this, azore. It’s something I alone must bear.”
“You’re not alone,” he insisted, voice heating.
“I am, I…”
Holding her head between his hands, Attalus implored, “Bear what, Leita? Tell me. Let me help you.”
Her lips peeled back over her teeth, her every worry and sorrow lodged between her ribs. Fresh tears overspilled her lashes, and she gripped tight to his robes to keep from falling apart.
In halting words, she admitted what the faelands had shown her. The memories, the truth. How the power could be disseminated to those fae strong enough to bear it—the royal line. Which was now almost extinct.
“No sisters or cousins, I’m alone. Why am I always alone?” Leita’s head fell to his chest. “I don’t want to be the last, Attalus.”
“Shh shh shh,” he soothed, rocking them back and forth.
“You’re not alone, agae, that I promise you.
I may not be able to carry the magic for you, but I’ll carry what I can.
Let me ease your load.” He lifted her chin, pushing her hair back from her damp face.
“I’m not the only one. You have friends and allies who will shoulder this with you. ”
Leita knew that rationally. The days before Ondra’s deceit had been so rewarding, finally finding her footing. To have that all taken away, to feel pushed back to near her beginning…
She rubbed at her chest, wishing she could ease the pressure. “It pushes on me here. Like hands pressing on my chest. Since connecting with the faelands, it won’t relent.”
Sensing her rising panic, Attalus gathered her hands and squeezed. “Share everything else with me, then. Your fears, your feelings. Trust me, Leita, to carry you.”
Her breath hitched. Trust me. Why was that the hardest to do, even with her own azai?
“But you’re angry with me.”
“I was. I want to protect you, agae, especially from the dangers I brought to your door.”
Swallowing down the worst of her fears, Leita did her best to breathe, to calm herself. She meant it when she said, “I do trust you, Attalus. Just not your brother.”
A sorry excuse for a smile momentarily lifted his lips. “That’s wise.”
They lapsed into another silence, Leita not knowing how to give him what he asked for.
She trusted him with her heart and happiness, but this world was a cruel one, and she didn’t trust that it wouldn’t try to take away what it’d given her.
Gods, goddesses, and the fates themselves could be fickle, and Leita refused to play a pawn and risk her mate.
Gloaming came on slowly in the late summer, and it was only when streaks of orange and pink limned the sky that Attalus stood. He carried her to their bed and helped her change from her gray executioner’s robes.
They held each other while Leita fell into the relief of a long sleep, all her fears beside them as bedfellows.