Chapter 3
FEO
Two days later, Feo visited New Leaf Tomes & Tea.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t that crowded. That might be due to the time of day, or it could be a result of the late winter storm that had eased over Tawney last night.
For anyone with access to a griffon and magic, storms meant very little, but for the normal folk who had to slog through huge snowdrifts, a warm cup of tea likely wasn’t worth the effort today.
Feo closed the door behind them and shook off the snow from their boots. Kianthe had spelled a few dedicated ever-flames that were warmer than normal, stationing them by the door to melt the snow. Her magic pulsed around Feo’s boots, drying the snow before they could track it anywhere important.
It seemed excessive, but considering Kianthe would be the one mopping the floor at night, Feo couldn’t blame her. It was a bad look for the Arcandor to allow messier elements access to her wife’s perfectly clean bookstore.
“Enty Feo!” A young girl slammed into Feo full-force, gripping their waist like an insect’s pincers. As she squeezed, every modicum of air wheezed out of Feo’s lungs. All the while, Quinn never stopped talking: “You came to visit! You never come to visit. Did Ponder tell Kappy I missed you?”
Across the shop, Reyna paused in reshelving books and sighed in mock-exasperation at her daughter.
(A queen shouldn’t be reshelving books, but this queen was a founding member of this bookshop, and thus took her two careers in stride.) Kianthe was behind the counter pouring hot water from their ever-present copper kettle into a mug.
She glanced up and winked. A few other patrons had paused in their meal, and the locals waved at Feo.
Feo waved back, which was awkward considering the child glued to their waist.
“Kappenicus wouldn’t deign to deliver—” Feo caught Reyna’s raised eyebrow as she approached and cut themselves off, rethinking. “Ah, he wouldn’t deliver messages without Ponder’s explicit approval. Yes. He was quite insistent that we stop by to say hello.”
Quinn squealed with delight, releasing Feo to peer out the front window of the old barn. “Is he still outside? Ponder should come say hello! Can I pet him?”
“He might not—” Feo said, and before they could finish, Quinn was out the double doors.
“Darling,” Reyna called after her, “a jacket?”
“Griffon feathers are warm!” Quinn was halfway down the street, already whistling for Ponder. Or Kappenicus. Or Visk. Or maybe one of the dragons.
Tough to tell, with that kid.
Reyna dusted off her hands. “Well, we’d better hope she finds Kappy.”
“I don’t consign to the nickname Kappy, and he doesn’t either.” Feo sniffed.
“Your concerns have been noted. In contrast, I’ll present the opposing argument: you could have named that griffon anything. What did you expect, when a child gets involved?”
“Kappenicus was the original alchemist, the first mage to—” Feo again stopped talking, cheeks burning at Reyna’s amused smile. “Well. That’s my griffon’s name. And she’ll remember it as she gets older.”
“I don’t know. She still calls Visk Kisky, and she’s certainly old enough to pronounce that now.
” Reyna took their cloak and hung it by the door, then beckoned them further into the shop.
“Before we discuss Lord Dren, I presume you’ll want some tea?
We’re closing soon, but you’re welcome to stay for dinner. ”
It wasn’t surprising that Reyna immediately identified Feo’s true reason for visiting.
They huffed, but didn’t argue. A couple folks stole glances at them—people they didn’t recognize, either tourists or newcomers to Tawney.
Only two faces were familiar: Patol, Tawney’s beekeeper (who was famously bored over the colder seasons), and Gossley, New Leaf’s occasional shop hand.
Both were chatting in the corner, laughing about something.
Feo noted a simple gold ring on Gossley’s finger. Their brow furrowed. “Did—Gossley get married?”
“Last fall. It was a small ceremony,” Reyna said.
“To whom?” Feo absolutely should have heard about that.
Now the queen raised an eyebrow. “Laura. The carpenter’s daughter? The same person he was dating for years.”
As they approached the counter, Kianthe joined their conversation with a sigh.
“Tell me you don’t read my newsletter without telling me you don’t read my newsletter.
” She handed a fresh cup of tea to an older man sitting alone, his nose buried in what looked like a romance book.
Kianthe waggled her eyebrows. “Chapter 23 is sexy, isn’t it? ”
The old man flushed, smacking the printed pages with the back of his hand. “This kind of thing would never have been circulated in my day.”
“Shame.” Kianthe smirked.
“Quite.” The old man returned to the novel, taking a sip of the tea.
Kianthe rejoined Feo and Reyna, lounging against the wood cabinets behind the counter. “It’s a little offensive, Feo.”
“What is?”
“The newsletter. My newsletter.”
Feo rolled their eyes. “I read your newsletters. For a while.” Considering the early ones contained terribly-written short stories interspersed with updates of “how cute Quinn is” and “you won’t believe what Quinn did” and “isn’t our baby adorable,” Feo had started tossing those papers in the trash.
“All I’m saying is, don’t act wounded that you didn’t know about Gossley’s wedding.” Kianthe shrugged, retrieving a glass. She swirled a hand and water flowed from a pipe nearby, splashing into the cup.
Guilt prickled. “Was—” Feo hesitated. “Was I invited to the ceremony?” Please say no, they thought, because they couldn’t handle missing a friend’s wedding just because they didn’t read some stupid newsletter.
But also, if they did miss the wedding for that, someone really should have delivered that message.
Or maybe that was unreasonable to expect, and Feo should have just visited town more often.
Hmm.
Reyna put a gentle hand on Feo’s forearm, interrupting their thoughts. “It was intimate. Family only. You didn’t miss anything.”
“Well, except all of our recent—”
“Dearest,” Reyna cut her wife off.
Kianthe sighed. “You want some tea, Feo? Or a scone? Rain made them with blueberries today.”
“Both, I think,” Feo muttered, averting their gaze.
Kianthe retrieved their favorite tea blend without even asking for clarification, and Reyna chose the scone with the most blueberries just like Feo liked.
It was comfortable. Like home… or some facsimile of it, where Feo used to belong, and now spent more time looking through the window than sitting by the hearth.
“I’ve been busy,” they said, unnecessarily. “But… I am sorry for missing things recently.”
“We all get busy.” Reyna set the scone on a small plate.
Feo didn’t comment on how ironic it was that the literal sovereign of the Queendom was telling them that.
In recent years, Feo would have mentally told themselves that sure, Reyna was a queen and very busy, but Feo was building an entire new school from the ground up, and—
And.
And.
And.
Instead, they accepted the plate, then dutifully followed Reyna to the empty armchairs by the hearth.
A few patrons were gathering their things to leave, and saying their goodbyes to the other folks in the shop.
Kianthe held the door open for a couple of them, then switched the sign by the front windows to CLOSED.
As Feo settled into the armchair—plush, comfortable, cozy—Kianthe poked her head outside to check on Quinn.
It must not have been good news, because she called over her shoulder, “Hey, Rain. How do we feel about a five-year-old trying to get a very rude griffon in the air? Better or worse than when she rode Blue Spruce?”
Reyna contemplated. “Is Ponder there?”
Kianthe stepped outside, craning her neck to the skies. “Yep. Pill Bug, too.”
“Well, she’s probably fine.”
“She’s trying to ride Kappenicus?” Feo grimaced. Their griffon was somewhat standoffish, and only really liked Feo, Reyna, and Ponder. Everyone else knew to keep their distance. They didn’t love the idea of a child—especially this child—crawling over such a dangerous creature.
Reyna sat on the couch adjacent to Feo’s armchair, utterly unconcerned. “Oh, Kappy will behave himself. He won’t want to upset Ponder by doing anything to Quinn.”
That was probably true—although it didn’t mean the older griffon would be happy about it.
Feo would probably get an earful on the way home, assuming Kappenicus didn’t leave them to walk the distance.
But the fire was warm and the company was nice, so that felt like a problem for the future.
Feo settled back into their chair, taking a grumbling bite of their scone.
Kianthe shrugged, starting closing duties while she kept an eye on the front windows and the chaos outside.
There were only a few patrons here left, including Patol and Gossley, who were clearly wrapping up their conversation.
A tiny, contained tornado spiraled into existence, sweeping the floors at Kianthe’s command.
Reyna diverted topics, regaining Feo’s attention. “So. Lord Dren. I saw you introduced yourself at the party.” Feo tensed, but the queen merely asked, “What was your impression of him?”
The scone was delicious, as expected. Feo chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a sip of perfectly steeped tea. New Leaf was truly a treasure in this region. They sorted their thoughts. “Lord Dren seems… kind. Intelligent enough to lead, but not commanding enough to put other lords on edge.”
“Our thoughts exactly.” Reyna hummed.
Kianthe held the door open for the last patron, and Patol waved at Gossley on his way out.
The unspoken time to leave cues felt like a perfectly executed alchemy spell, where magic moved without resistance.
Feo suddenly felt like a bystander to these established routines.
It was both a relief that Tawney remained the same regardless of their presence…
and disheartening, seeing how easily life had continued without them.