Chapter 33 #2
“No,” Leita said upon finishing, “just this part. But…I think it may be time to bring it all down. I’m not sure it serves its purpose anymore, and the fae shouldn’t be kept captive inside it.” She grinned ruefully. “Charis won’t be pleased.”
“She’ll be happy to have you returned safe—use that to your advantage.” Attalus winked. “Besides, it’ll be a new challenge for her as chancellor.”
Even the safety-oriented Marcades thought an antiquated, unhelpful border wasn’t worth keeping. “The Savrakae have certainly shown its weaknesses.”
“Perhaps I might start training our women guards in airborne tactics,” Attalus suggested.
Marcades’s eyes lit with interest.
They discussed the idea throughout the evening, Attalus never letting Leita stray far from his side.
In the morning, as the fae mounted their unicorns and prepared to head out, though, Attalus had other plans. “This one is flying. With me.”
Leita’s brows rose, and she shared a look of bafflement with Marcades as she followed Attalus, who pulled her along by the hand.
“Attalus?” She watched, bemused, as he shucked the makeshift coverings Leita had insisted upon the night before. The guards didn’t need to see all their prince consort—that was just for her.
“Humor me,” he whispered, tossing her another wink.
The shift took him, scales and limbs elongating, and he shook off the lingering tingle when he stood heads taller than the fae. Grinning a lizard grin down at his mate, he lowered his shoulder and wing.
Leita still seemed mystified, but she gamely climbed up his wing and leg to sit astride his nape. To only Leita’s surprise, a great cheer went up from her warriors to see her sit one of her thrones.
“Queen Leita!” they shouted. “Leita Dragontamer!”
Attalus roared happily into the sky, adding to their cheers. She blushed and bore it, waving as Marcades led the army in a whooping cheer, literally starting to sing Leita’s praises.
She bounced on his back, legs squeezing round his neck when Attalus bounded toward the cliff edge and leapt into the sky. The fae’s cheers grew even louder as they watched Leita soar, Attalus circling them three times before striking out north.
Get everyone home safe, he told Thalia.
Rascal. Leaving all the hard work for your elders.
Attalus laughed, a deep, rumbling sound in his dragon’s throat.
Leita didn’t ask where they were going, the northerly direction obvious enough.
Instead, she enjoyed soaring as much as he hoped she would.
With her legs wound round his neck, she let go with her hands, leaning back to let the wind caress her open arms. A peek back at her revealed a joyous smile lighting her face, and Attalus tried to memorize it.
As the crow—or dragon—flew, it wasn’t a very long flight back to Fallorian, but Attalus never intended to go straight there.
When they were out of sight of the warriors, with nothing around for leagues but coastline, Attalus shifted back to his two-legged form.
A surprised sound escaped Leita, and she quickly lay down along his back, between his open wings, arms latching around his shoulders.
“You truly are most accomplished riding your dragon, my Queen,” he purred.
Leita giggled, a bubbling, effervescent sound that made Attalus greedy.
“What’s this about?” she asked at his ear.
“Can’t a dragon want to fly with his mate? I so rarely get you alone like this anymore.”
“Mm.” Nuzzling his horn bases and temple, she asked, “Does this mean you’re not mad at me?”
Attalus barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m livid, agae, rest assured.” He winked at her over his shoulder. “But there’s plenty you can do to make it up to me.”
Without teasing or guile, Leita hugged his shoulders tight. “I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, azore.”
“Careful,” he rumbled, “promises like that could be taken advantage of.”
“I mean it,” she insisted, “whatever I must do. Whatever you want of me.”
“What if I want everything, Leita? All that you are, including your trust?”
“You have it.” Kissing between his horns, she hooked her chin over the crown of his head. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”
“This is a very good start.” Only mates flew like this, and it was the highest honor of a Savrakae to carry that which was most precious to them between their wings. “I can think of a few other things, off the top of my head.”
Leita chuckled. “Name them.”
“I want to knock that old citadel down for you, with the whole city watching.”
She was silent a moment, leaving Attalus to check their bond to see whether she was surprised or angry or both. He was relieved to find she felt only surprise.
“All right,” she agreed.
“I want Slinky’s life extended to as long as she wants.
” His little companion had become such a joy and comfort, he could hardly imagine the palace without her.
He’d never forget how she’d hunted for him in those long days within the cave.
The marten deserved to live a long life, gorging on as much cheese as she wished.
“That should be doable, so long as she agrees. Not all creatures wish to live longer than they’re meant.” Leita squeezed his shoulders to soften the blow. He knew she spoke from experience.
Attalus touched one of the forearms wrapped around his neck, offering comfort. “It will be her choice, but I want to offer it, at least.”
He felt her nod against his head. “What else?”
“I want your promise that you won’t leave me behind again.” This condition came a little softer, a little more hesitant. It was what he wanted most of all and would prove most important for their future.
“I promise,” she said without pause. “If I could make a pact with you, I would.”
“No pact. Just trust, agae. That’s all I ask.” While it might seem simple or small, Leita’s trust wasn’t easily given. Attalus didn’t resent her for it, even if he’d railed against the consequences of not having earned it entirely.
Attalus had witnessed plenty of matings without trust. That path led to jealousy, betrayal, and possibly worse.
He refused to squander his chance at happiness with Leita, determined to have all of her.
It didn’t have to be today or even tomorrow.
A little bit over time, more every day. He just needed to know that it was possible.
They flew in peaceful silence for a few moments, the late-summer breeze helping keep them aloft. His mate was a pleasant weight along his back, an anchor against the swirling tide that’d threatened to pull his life under.
He hadn’t known it was possible to care for or love anything as deeply as he did Leita.
Such tenderness was a vulnerability, not something anyone could afford within the Droplets.
His hearts had been wounded too many times, his life rendered meaningless both by loss and by choice.
A hollow life wasn’t worth mourning, no great loss, even when it was his own.
But now, sailing through the faelands’ skies, Attalus had everything to live for.
The land might not be familiar, its people strange, but they were his now.
And so was the precious woman on his back.
She had already made his life worth living, and he flew into his new future happily, knowing he’d spend it beside her.
“For all my life, I hoped for an azai,” Leita said suddenly. “It didn’t matter to me who they were, just what they represented. Not being alone.”
His hearts ached for her, the Leita flying with him now and the Leita who’d been a scared little girl all alone. “You’ll never be alone again,” he assured her, gripping her hand tight.
“I’m glad it was you, Attalus. That the Twins, the fates, whoever it was, chose you. They were right.”
Her words and love for him thrumming through their bond nearly shot Attalus out of the sky.
“I changed my mind, I have one more condition.”
“Oh?”
He began to spiral downwards, out of the air current. “For a mating to be true, it must be consummated in the Savrakae way.”
An adorable little squeak caught in Leita’s throat. “You mean…?”