Chapter 9
FEO
“I’m shocked you’re agreeing to this,” Kianthe called over the roaring wind.
Her voice should have been impossible to hear, considering the distance her griffon, Visk, was keeping from Kappenicus—but the air would never fail to deliver a message from the Arcandor herself, so Feo heard her comment perfectly.
They nudged Kappenicus closer so they weren’t screaming a reply. “I’m re-engaging with my community, per your wife’s suggestion. That means helping our newest neighboring town establish itself properly.”
Kappenicus chittered at the suggestion, shooting Visk an eagle-eyed glare.
Visk was pretending to be perfectly stoic and professional, which meant Kappenicus was losing face by glaring.
Without Ponder present, the two adult males had no reason to pretend they liked each other—but they had plenty of reason to one-up each other.
So, Kappenicus obeyed, tilting feather wings to soar closer to Visk. Visk clacked his beak in warning, but Kianthe patted his feathery neck and said, “Don’t be rude.”
Kappenicus preened at the way Visk huffed.
Feo rolled their eyes.
Kianthe, meanwhile, had moved on. “Reyna commissioned plenty of folks to help build the town square. I just figured that after everything, you’d let them do it.”
“Everything” had been admitted to Reyna in a defeated tone long after New Leaf had closed its doors for the day, weeks back. Feo had stalked into the barn, requested tea, and spent the better part of the evening ranting to Reyna about how they were “fully finished” with Wylan.
Reyna still hadn’t replied to that statement, Feo realized now.
Perhaps they should be concerned about that.
They dragged their thoughts back to reality.
“The fact is, I can build a town faster than any tradesfolk. And… I promised Wylan I would help. So, I’m helping.
” They tapped the leather bag on Kappenicus’s flank, which held a larger chunk of the Arcanium.
The shards helped with normal, daily magic, and proximity to the Arcanium helped with more impressive magic, but Pine Island would require more.
Feo had carved off a chunk of the Arcanium years ago for this exact type of magical aid.
On the horizon, Pine Island appeared, covered in fog. It was early morning, and the sun was so bright overhead that Feo had no doubt it’d burn off soon. For now, though, it appeared mysterious, enticing.
Kianthe glanced at them, her expression unreadable. “Your funeral.”
“Thanks,” Feo drawled.
They landed in the middle of a clearing bustling with people. It was easy to see that Lord Dren had agreed with Feo’s assessment all those weeks ago, and that he and Wylan had made good progress prepping the site for their arrival.
Kappenicus folded his wings, standing perfectly still to allow Feo to disembark. The perfect griffon mount, escorting the perfect alchemist. Both of them loved a good, impressive entrance, after all.
Meanwhile, Visk didn’t bother landing. He swooped close to the ground, and Kianthe leapt off his back, swirling wind to slow her descent. She thumped to the grass beside Feo, looking chaotic as always, while Visk screeched goodbye and put some clearly-desired distance between him and Kappenicus.
“He’ll be back later,” Kianthe said. “He doesn’t like Kappy.”
“Shame. Kappenicus likes him,” Feo lied.
Kappenicus full-body huffed and leapt onto the tall branches of a nearby pine, as if claiming this area in Visk’s absence. The griffon settled into the branches, keeping one eye on the sky—but Visk was long-gone.
Feo ignored the griffon drama to refocus on the town itself. There was a good clearing, although stumps littered the space, and the workers had begun piling building materials nearby. It would take effort and plenty of magic, but they could do some real improvements here.
At least, that’s what Feo expected, until Lord Dren and Lord Wylan approached with a chemistry between them.
It was nothing explicit—not like they were holding hands or kissing. But something new was there nonetheless, obvious in the way Dren laughed, and how Wylan smiled brightly in response.
Wylan had found new love in the weeks since Feo told him to move on. Feo shouldn’t have been surprised…
… and yet.
“Uh oh,” Kianthe muttered to Feo. “You gonna be okay?”
She’d noticed, too.
That almost made it worse.
“Please, Kianthe. I’m the Alchemicor,” Feo retorted, as if that answered it all. They stepped forward, taking first Lord Dren’s hands, then Wylan’s, in a show of warmth and hospitality. “My lords. A pleasure to see you this fine morning.”
Wylan squinted at Feo, clearly suspicious, but Lord Dren seemed delighted. “Welcome, Alchemicor, Alchemist of Eras! And Arcandor, Mage of Ages! I hope you’ll be impressed with the work we’ve done up to this point—we’ve been trying hard to ensure this spot is ready for your arrival.”
Pleasantries, all of it. Feo nodded with forced enthusiasm. “It looks perfect. Shall we get to work?”
Kianthe quirked an eyebrow and said, “Excuse you, oh Alchemist of Erratic Behavior. I’d like lunch, first.”
Feo might strangle her someday.
Especially when she added, “Lord Wylan. You’re looking… chipper,” in a tone that sounded neutral, but was definitely not when coupled with her suggestive eyebrow waggle.
Unbelievable.
Wylan rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, thank you?” He cast a glance at Feo, cleared his throat, and said, “I think we’ve got lunch ready. I’ll check.”
“I’ll join you,” Kianthe said, and strolled after him as he climbed the hillside to a tent nestled between the pines.
Left alone with Lord Dren, Feo scrambled for something to say. They clapped their hands together. “I’m happy to get started. First, we should probably establish plumbing. I skipped that step at the Academy, and it was a mess. Literally.” Feo grimaced.
Dren hesitated, all bravado suddenly gone. “I didn’t mean to make anything awkward, Alchemicor. Please, believe me when I say that you have my utmost respect.”
Feo thought they misheard. “Excuse me?”
“With Wylan,” Dren said in a rush. “We’re just trying things out. And I know you two have a history, and—and I hope it won’t affect the work we do together this week. I’m incredibly grateful you’ve arrived, and want to make sure we part on good terms.”
It would have been easy, Feo thought, to hate this man. It would have been so easy to label Dren as the enemy, the one who “stole” Wylan away. But the fact was… there was nothing to steal. Feo had pointedly told Wylan to enjoy his time with Dren, to fully immerse in a new adventure on Pine Island.
Moreover, Feo prided themselves on their integrity. Their response was as easy as breathing, even as their heart wrenched on saying it:
“Lord Dren, I have nothing but respect for what you’re accomplishing here. And… if you make Wylan happy, that’s enough.” Feo held out a hand, and was pleased when Lord Dren took it and shook. Two people, focusing on a goal.
Personal relations had no standing in today’s work.
“Shall we get to work?” Feo asked again.
This time, Lord Dren nodded, his hands fluttering in anticipation. “Yes, let’s begin. Plumbing is a wise idea; we already dug several pits further down the hill in anticipation. We tried to lay piping, but without a smithy, our supplies were limited—”
The day slid away in a flurry of city planning.
Kianthe cleared trees. Feo drew alchemy circles and pulled small buildings out of the ground.
Stone tunnels were erected deep underground for waste, and Kianthe located an underground spring for fresh water.
By the time evening passed, both Feo and Kianthe were feeling dizzy from magic drain, and the town square was starting to look like a real, habitable place.
Everyone settled around a huge campfire in the town’s center to eat.
Kianthe settled between some of Tawney’s laborers, chatting about the work being done in the formerly burnt half of town.
Lord Dren was settled with some of Pine Island’s citizens.
Wylan clapped Dren’s shoulder, whispered something to him—then separated to approach Feo.
Feo had been perfectly content to eat alone. Magic drain wasn’t something alchemists experienced before the Arcanium was created, and they still hated how it made them feel nauseas and uneasy. They forced a smile, leaving their bread unattended.
“Surprised you’re coming to see me,” Feo said. “Especially after vanishing to ‘check on lunch’ earlier today.”
Wylan chuckled. “Dren asked to talk to you in private. Did he… ah… manage that?”
It was so awkward. So stilted. Feo wished they were alone with their bread again. “Yes, we spoke. Congratulations. He seems like a nice fellow.”
Seems like a nice fellow? Feo internally grimaced—they’d never said anything like that in their life.
But what were they supposed to say instead?
Your relationship makes me feel stupid, ridiculous, and angry at myself?
Watching you move on makes me wish I hadn’t fucked up so badly years ago?
I want to be happy that you’re happy, and I am, but I’m also incredibly sad that I wasn’t enough, and that I have no right to you now?
None of those were appropriate, and Feo was really, truly trying not to be the jealous ex here.
So, they left “he seems like a nice fellow” as their final statement, and ripped a piece of their bread.
They’d smeared butter over it, but now the sight of so much grease made them feel even worse, so they tore around it and ate that instead.
Wylan watched them, pressing his lips together. “You’re not okay with this.”
“I’m perfectly fine with it.”
“Convincing,” Wylan said, with a hint of his old humor.
Feo was very close to pouting. Lord Dren hadn’t even looked their way. Gone was the hesitation, the uncertainty, Feo had seen at the bonfire, replaced instead with a confidence that Dren wasn’t going to lose his new partner to Feo.