Chapter 8
WYLAN
Lord Wylan had spent a good portion of his youth traveling the Queendom with Ralund, as per custom.
A lord couldn’t properly govern without experiencing other cultures, after all.
But back then, under Tilaine’s rule, “other cultures” were “the Capital, and a few prominent Queendom towns.” Wylan had spent that time at various lords’ estates, observing boring business meetings in landscapes that were similar to Tawney.
Near the end of his father’s life, he’d seized the chance to travel Shepara, which had been far more enlightening than anything he’d seen in the Queendom.
The Realm’s western coast, especially, had captured his attention—the beaches there weren’t jagged and rocky, but rather sandy and welcoming.
He thought about the Southern Seas often.
All this to say, Pine Island was nothing special or unique to Wylan. It was a small, equally jagged and rocky island blanketed in towering pine trees. The sky here was even gloomier than Tawney, and the seas’ icy spray was frigid.
But when Lord Dren disembarked, his expression was one of pure joy. “Gods, it’s beautiful. Every time I get to come here, I’m amazed at this little island.” Gratitude filled his words, so raw and real that Wylan almost had to look away.
They’d arrived on a bigger ship commissioned by Reyna, but without a dock, they had to take a smaller dinghy to land.
He grabbed the bow of it, towing it on to the rocks so the rising tide wouldn’t sweep it away.
Wylan paused to wave to the bigger ship, anchored in deeper waters. From the deck, the captain waved back.
She would stay anchored until they were ready to return, and run supply trips in the meantime.
On her ship were hired help from Tawney: carpenters, laborers, masons.
They would come tomorrow, since there wasn’t currently anywhere to live, and Wylan wanted to confirm the area where they’d be pitching tents before they’d host a dozen folks.
For now, they remained on the ship, and it was just Wylan and Dren.
Lord Dren heard Wylan’s amused laugh. He crossed his arms, suddenly nervous. “What? Is that not something a lord should say?”
“It’s absolutely something a lord should say,” Wylan replied steadily. “I’m just jealous.”
“Why? You don’t think Tawney is beautiful?”
“Oh, I absolutely do. It has a charm like no other.” Wylan straightened, casting a glance at the heavy clouds overhead.
The dinghy would stay, the ship was anchored, and they needed to get to shelter before a true downpour hit.
“But Tawney was mine from the start. That’s why I’m jealous—you get to experience true gratitude over your new position, your new land.
I could do with a bit more of that energy, honestly. ”
Dren’s cheeks colored, and he cleared his throat. “Well, there’s a comfort in knowing where you belong in the world, too. Both are nice.”
“Yeah. That’s true,” Wylan mused, thinking back to Feo, who’d never really known where they belonged until very recently. Had they felt this same awe, arriving in Tawney the first time? Wylan had never thought to ask.
They shouldered their packs and hiked inland.
The rocky shore gave way to a steep climb, where Wylan was already anticipating they’d have to build steps and a railing—maybe a pully system to get supplies to higher ground.
But that would be the case anywhere on Pine Island, with its steep climbs in elevation.
Just a bit more hiking, and they arrived at their anticipated town center. Wylan paused, dropping his pack, and surveyed the area. “This is where Feo voted we set up shop. What do you think, Dren?”
Lord Dren hesitated, glancing around. “Well, obviously, I think the Alchemicor is correct. Erm… Feo. Of course, they’re right.” He spoke Feo’s name like it was blasphemous, which almost made Wylan laugh again.
“They won’t be offended if you call them by their chosen name,” Wylan said.
Dren pressed his lips together. “They’re the Alchemicor. The Alchemist of Eras.”
“They chose that name, too.” Wylan rolled his eyes. “Feo is a person like you or me. You don’t have to side with their opinion just because of their standing. If you don’t like this site, we can explore the others.”
Now, Dren assessed the space properly. It was filled with trees, but big and flat.
From a map, it looked like it wouldn’t be well-protected from the elements, but that wasn’t actually the case.
Rocky mountains climbed to the east and north, and there was a pretty open view to the south.
It seemed well-protected from many angles without being claustrophobic.
Lord Dren tapped his chin. “It’ll cost quite a bit to remove the trees.
But all that lumber would be incredibly helpful in building.
The ground here is wetter than Tawney or Mercon, so I doubt fire will be a big risk, and with all the stones from the mountains nearby…
” he trailed off. “I think that Feo is likely correct. This is a great spot for a town.”
Wylan snorted. “Perfect. Just don’t tell them that. Their ego will increase tenfold.”
Dren was staring at Wylan again, oddly.
Wylan shifted. “What?”
“Ah, nothing.” Wylan wanted to pry, but Lord Dren moved on quickly: “Shall we pitch our tents and get a fire started?”
It still looked like it was going to rain, which wasn’t a great combination with a fire—at least not without a mage or alchemist present to protect it. Wylan instead gestured towards the mountain to the east. “I saw a cave annotated on one of the maps. Let’s see if we can find it.”
They pressed on, and sure enough, found the cave a little while later. It was nestled into a cliff face, a hollow barely bigger than a single bedroom, but it’d be enough to shield a fire without trapping smoke. They stored their supplies in the back and gathered the driest wood they could find.
By the time the downpour started, they were sitting on their bedrolls by a warm fire.
The cave was easily illuminated by the fire and a few extra lanterns, and even as the temperature dropped with the gloomy rain, Wylan was warm enough to shed his cloak.
As darkness settled over the island, fireflies flickered, cheerfully flying through the grass and lower branches.
Crickets chirped, and the rain was a soft constant to it all.
“This place is beautiful,” Wylan said, feeling like he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life.
Lord Dren had tugged out some strips of meat, and was carefully skewering them to rest near the fire. He smiled softly and replied, “I never expected I’d have a chance like this. A chance to do something great, to help people. And I’m… very grateful you’re at my side for it.”
Wylan tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at Dren’s admission. Three weeks ago, he would have been delighted at how that made him feel: desired, appreciated. Now, after everything with Feo, it just made him hesitate.
Which was, frankly, frustrating to realize.
“I’m delighted to aid where I can,” Wylan said, the most neutral statement he could manage.
Dren poked the fire with a stick, watching the embers rise. “Lord Wylan… may I ask a question?”
Wylan hesitated. “Of course.”
“Please tell me if this is an overstep, but when we first met, I thought maybe…” Dren trailed off, staring at the skewers of meat. He shook his head, set them up near the flame, and leaned back. “Ah, I thought you were… flirting… with me.” He grimaced, his cheeks coloring.
Guilt settled over Wylan’s chest, tightening until it felt hard to breathe. He swallowed, attempting a graceful response. “I was. I think. It’s been a while, and I… well, it was unprofessional of me, and I deeply apologize if I made you uncomfortable—”
“No, no!” Dren held up his hands, and finally met Wylan’s gaze.
His expression was so earnest that it instantly reminded Wylan why he’d been smitten with this man from the start.
Dren searched Wylan’s gaze and smiled sheepishly.
“I liked it, actually. It’s been a while for me, too, but you’re so poised and professional and everything I hope to become as a lord.
I think you’re incredible, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering it. ”
Lord Dren is waiting for you, Feo had said.
They knew from the start that Wylan was interested in Dren. They knew there was competition—and that was undoubtedly why they resurfaced after four years. And then, right when Feo could have had Wylan… they pulled back.
They wanted Wylan to live the life he desired.
Now, Wylan stared at Dren and wondered: is this it? Is it Dren?
Very possibly.
Dren was kind, considerate, a bit awkward.
He wasn’t exceedingly confident, but that was endearing, if Wylan was being honest. He was at the start of a new life—Wylan wouldn’t be confident facing that, either.
But even with the questions around his career, leaving his home, making new friends, Dren had shown up with enthusiasm and a genuine desire to connect.
Wylan loved that about him.
He wasn’t Feo, but… maybe that was what Wylan needed right now.
And yet… Wylan still hesitated. “I considered it, too.”
Dren’s expression fell. “But you aren’t anymore.”
“I… feel it might be unfair.”
That, finally, made Dren frown. “How so?” He paused. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but… is it because of the Alchemicor?”
Wylan winced. Of course, Dren had noticed. Likely, he heard the gossip or pieced together that they were exes. In Tawney, it wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret, even years after they ended their relationship.
How early had Dren known?
Did it even matter?
No, Wylan realized. It didn’t matter when Dren figured it out—it only mattered that he knew, and now Wylan had to face it. He owed Dren that honesty, at least. “Yes. A bit. We dated for a long while, but it didn’t work out. I thought I had moved on, but… when they showed up at the debut party…”
“You realized you still loved them,” Dren finished.