Chapter 7
FEO
It was just to collect the book.
“Just a book,” Feo told Kappenicus.
The griffon landed in Wylan’s courtyard, puffed, and chittered judgmentally. But then again, Kappenicus was often judgmental—it was part of the reason Feo liked him so much. Feo scoffed and slid off their griffon’s back, ignoring the creature’s pointed stare.
“I promise,” Feo said.
Kappenicus nipped near their ear, then spread massive wings and leapt back into the sky.
In the stables beyond, Wylan’s horse—and a new one, likely Lord Dren’s—stomped their hooves and stared with wide eyes as the apex predator circled overhead.
Feo shook their head and strolled for the manor’s front door.
It opened before they could knock, and as always, Ralund was there. He assessed Feo, then stepped aside. “Lord Wylan is awaiting you in his study.”
Feo tried to analyze Ralund’s tone, but it was too polite, too neutral.
They cautiously stepped past the servant, strolling with familiarity towards the study.
Ralund made a pointed stop at the family portraits, as was Queendom culture, but Feo, who was not from the Queendom, barely glanced at them before moving on.
The study’s double doors were open, and Wylan was standing over the back table, a formal shirt rolled at the sleeves and half unbuttoned as he squinted at a large map. Ralund cleared his throat and said, “The Alchemicor, the Alchemist of Eras, has arrived.”
Finally, someone got the title right. Feo pulled their shoulders back self-importantly, but Wylan barely glanced up at them.
“Come in, Feo,” he said.
Ralund left without another word, which wasn’t out of character—but did feel vaguely judgmental. Or maybe Feo was reading into this. This entire situation was awkward, and Feo just wanted to get their book.
Just the book.
Feo stepped into the study, standing awkwardly in the center of it.
Before, they used to drop to the couch and tug off their boots and open a book left for them on the nearby table.
Before, Wylan would stroll over with two cups of tea, press a kiss to Feo’s forehead, and move Feo’s ankles to his lap.
Before, they’d read in comfortable silence for most of the afternoon before ever saying two words to each other.
But before was long gone, now.
Feo hesitated, but Wylan still hadn’t spoken. Maybe this was all business, then. Feo shouldn’t be disappointed by that, but it settled mildly in their soul regardless. They crossed their arms. “The book I’m looking for is—”
“The Metallurgy of Magic,” Wylan finished.
Feo blinked. “Yes. How did you know?”
Wylan offered his signature smirk, finally glancing up from the map.
“I don’t have many books in my library that an alchemist would care to explore—and of the ones I possess, you’ve read or borrowed all but that one.
Process of elimination.” He pushed a leatherbound tome across the table, skirting the map’s edge. “Here it is.”
Feo approached, picking up the book. It was heavy, with vellum pages and hand-drawn illustrations.
The writing was notoriously difficult to read, since the author had terrible penmanship, but very few copies of this script existed.
To Feo’s knowledge, the only other copy in this condition was preserved in Bobbie and Serina’s library, stored at Arlon’s old estate along the Nacean River.
Feo tucked it under their arm. “Ah, thank you.”
Wylan nodded, then gestured at the map. “Since you’re here, perhaps I can request more help?”
“I’m still recovering from the magic drain of the church,” Feo drawled. It was coming back, but even a couple days hadn’t been enough to quell the lurking edge of exhaustion. They’d overdone it—but they also didn’t regret it.
Wylan winced. “Oh, no. This shouldn’t take more than a moment. I need an opinion on Pine Island’s settlement location. Lord Dren has narrowed it down to three locations, and we genuinely can’t determine what’s best.”
Feo leaned over the table, setting the heavy book down beside them.
The map spread over the table was curling at the edges, and Wylan had set a metal paperweight and another book over two corners to keep it flat.
There were three views of Pine Island: one from overhead, and one from both the eastern and western angle.
The overhead view was almost certainly sketched by a mage with griffon access—several operated as cartographers for hire—but the side views seemed to be drawn from a ship, by a different artist.
Wylan, or maybe Dren, had marked a few spots with pin flags.
Feo frowned, examining them. “Isn’t this something Lord Dren should be handling?”
Wylan sighed. “Yes. But he’s an accountant, not a city planner, and he’s very new to being a lord.
He’s second-guessing himself, so I told him I’d take a look.
This location,” Wylan tapped one on the northern side of the island, “is the highest point, and would give the best vantage point to oncoming storms. But it’s also a climb, and could make it difficult for older folks to walk home.
The other two areas are lower, but could risk flooding…
Plus, lots of trees to clear in those locations. ”
Feo did love a puzzle. They leaned over the map, which put their head awfully close to Wylan’s. They tried not to focus on that proximity, tried not to think about how very familiar this was.
They could imagine Matild’s deadpan stare, if she knew that they were “healing” like this. Reyna would almost certainly know of it, if she didn’t already. Word of the church repair must have gotten around by now.
Feo shook their head, focusing on the problem. Solve the issue, take the book.
Just that.
The topography was well described in the sketches, and they could see what Wylan meant.
The northern option was encompassed by rocky cliffs, which would protect from storms. The middle location was flattest, but would require a lot of site prep.
The southern pin appeared to be nestled deep in the forest, furthest from the coast.
“Kianthe said people had already settled there. Where did they set up?” Feo asked.
Wylan tapped a few other locations. “Here, here, and here. A few families, nothing more. We’re trying to bring more reliable infrastructure they can access, but still respect their privacy.”
His movement brought him even closer. Feo glanced up at him, and their eyes connected. Wylan released a soft exhale, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had slowed, like Feo had cast a spell without realizing it.
Or maybe that was just the soft thumping of their heart, anticipating the proximity.
Wylan seemed to struggle for something to say. “Um. We’d like to start with a town center.” Their words were like a gentle caress.
Feo couldn’t tear their gaze away. Wylan had the most engaging eyes—from a distance, they appeared light blue, but Feo had gotten close enough to see the steely grey undertone, identical to a cloudy winter sky.
The depth of them took Feo’s breath away.
They pressed their lips together. “That’s… smart.”
“Yeah,” Wylan said distantly.
And then, footsteps echoed down the hall, and a barely-familiar voice called, “Lord Wylan? Are you here?”
They sprang apart just as Lord Dren stepped into the study.
The new lord startled, blinking at Feo. “Oh! Alchemicor! I didn’t realize you were…
” he trailed off, looking between the two of them.
Undoubtedly noting the flush on Wylan’s face, the way Feo found their footing after nearly losing their balance.
Dren cleared his throat. “I’m sorry—am I interrupting? ”
“Not at all,” Feo said, retrieving the book.
This was so stupid. Wylan wasn’t theirs to have anymore.
The moments of breathlessness, of anticipation, of wanting—it was a relic of a relationship long-since passed.
Feo was supposed to be healing, damn it.
They weren’t supposed to be spending one-on-one time with Wylan, leaning into a magnetism that only grew stronger when they were apart.
History loved a repeat, didn’t it?
Lord Dren was still standing awkwardly in the study’s entry. They seemed almost… disappointed. Feo didn’t know how to feel about that. Dren said, “I can come back—”
“No,” Wylan interrupted. “We were puzzling through your location conundrum. That’s all.”
“The middle location,” Feo said. “It’s the closest to the dock, and middling in elevation.
I can fly there once trees are cleared and set up magical barriers for storm surge, but it should be far enough inland to avoid major flooding.
” They lifted the book, nodded at Wylan. “Thank you, Lord Wylan, for the book.”
They headed to the exit. In the meantime, Lord Dren strode to the map and said, “Oh! That would be very helpful. That location was my choice, too, but I wanted to be sure—”
Feo wasn’t needed here. They strode for the door, exiting into the hallway to leave the two lords be. Of course, they hadn’t made it to the front foyer before footsteps thudded behind them, and Wylan caught up.
“Feo, wait!” He looked frazzled now, and cast a glance over his shoulder—but they were alone again.
Feo stopped, crossing their arms, the book still tucked under one. “Wylan, when I agreed to help with the church, I wasn’t looking for… whatever this is. If you want to pursue Lord Dren, that’s your business. I have other things to focus on.”
Wylan frowned, and a spark of exasperation slid into his tone. “Of course, you do.”
Feo narrowed their eyes. “Why the tone?”
“Nothing. Just… you—” Wylan growled, running his hand through his hair, “—you always have other things to focus on.”
“Is that bad, in this moment?” they challenged.
“No! Maybe. It’s certainly not a surprise. But I thought…” Wylan cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “I thought maybe we could be friends again. Just friends. But if you’re too busy focusing on ‘other things,’ maybe not.”
Feo stared at him, then down the hallway where Lord Dren was almost certainly waiting in his study. They chose their words carefully. “We’re not friends, Wy. Today proved that.”
“We can be—” Wylan tried to say.
Feo cut him off with a hand. “Remember when I came into Tawney, years ago? I was determined to replace Tawney’s complacent, ignorant lord.
” They chuckled at the mock-offense on Wylan’s face at that statement.
So much had happened since then—it felt like a lifetime ago.
“I was supposed to hate you. We were rivals. But that was part of the draw, wasn’t it? ”
Fond memories tilted Wylan’s lips. “I suppose it was.”
The moments of subterfuge, where two town leaders acted like they hated each other—then found each other again in private. The passion was immeasurable. The attraction undeniable. Everything was hot and heavy, right from the start.
Even after things moved beyond a few flings, even after they settled into something quieter, more routine…
they still denied their relationship. Go public, and the passion faded into something quieter.
Something unbefitting of them. There was a thrill of secrecy neither of them could deny, even after their relationship was common lore.
Things began to die when Feo became the Alcemicor, sure… but that had been a convenient excuse for an already occurring phenomenon.
Feo’s words were quiet, filled with regret. “Where’s that passion when we aren’t at odds?”
Wylan stared at Feo. “I… don’t know.”
And there it was.
Feo felt something shift in their soul, like a log had been tossed on a fire but fell to the side, touching heat, flames flickering and dying in the cold recesses of the hearth. It had known heat, but there was nothing to sustain it now.
Maybe that had always been the problem. Not Feo’s title, not Wylan’s distance.
Feo gestured back at the study. “Lord Dren is waiting for you.”
Wylan didn’t move. “Feo—”
“It’s okay, Wy. Back then… neither of us were happy. Not really. And I think I only realized it now.” Feo chuckled. They felt dazed, weighed by a sadness they hadn’t expected today. “You should go.”
Maybe healing hurt, sometimes. And maybe that was important, too.
Wylan rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. Um.” He drew a shaking breath. “Lord Dren and I are traveling to Pine Island in a few days. We’ll be there for several weeks, working on… well, everything.”
“Have fun,” Feo said, and meant it.
They turned to go, but Wylan caught their arm. His fingers seemed to burn Feo’s skin where they touched. “I’d like to be friends. Someday. If you’d like that, too.”
Feo would. They very much would.
They nodded. “Someday. Maybe.”
Wylan released them, stepping a respectable distance back. “Fly safe back to the Academy.”
“Travel safe to Pine Island.” Feo smiled. “Tell Lord Dren I’m still waiting for his sister’s application.”
“Will do.” Wylan’s smile was teasing, but sadness lingered on the edges.
With little else to say, Feo left.