Chapter 1 #2
Kianthe tossed Feo a set of leather gloves, already covered in dirt.
They were on the smaller side, probably Reyna’s pair, and Feo had to squeeze them on.
Kianthe dropped beside a planter box, retrieving her bag of seeds.
“Well, right now, Wylan is visiting the island east of Tawney, along with Reyna and Quinn.”
Quinn was almost six, and frequently traveled to exotic locales with her parents. Feo brushed past that, focusing on what was important. “The island… that doesn’t even have a name?” They almost added, “Where does Dren come into this?” but didn’t want to be too upfront.
Couldn’t give Kianthe another metaphorical sword to wave at them. The Alchemist of Eras was quite enough.
Kianthe carved a hole in the soil. “Oh, they just gave it a name. Pine Island.”
“Pine Island,” Feo repeated, deadpan.
Kianthe waved a hand, flecking soil as she moved. “We already know the Queendom isn’t the most creative at names. Their capital city is named the Capital.”
Feo couldn’t argue there. “So, Pine Island pertains to Wylan… why? Is his territory expanding?”
“Opposite, actually. He’s technically had command over that island for a while, and two seasons ago, he realized people had settled there.
” Kianthe retrieved a few seeds from the canvas bag.
She sorted through them, frowning, setting some aside and picking others.
“Should have brought my stash. Maybe I should swing by the greenhouse…”
“Key, focus.”
“I never focus,” she replied automatically. Then a sly grin overtook her features. “But it’s curious that you’re so interested in this, considering—as I said earlier—it’s purely a Queendom matter.”
“I’m—” Feo spluttered to regain deniability. “I’m no more interested in this than anything else happening in Tawney.”
“Such as?”
Feo stiffened. Truth be told, they’d been so focused on the Academy, they hadn’t chatted with the townsfolk in a while. They couldn’t even remember the last time they’d swung by New Leaf for a cup of tea.
“Such as—erm… the… spring planting—”
Kianthe held up a hand, cutting them off.
“Okay, don’t hurt yourself. We know you’ve been busy.
” She tucked a few seeds lovingly into the soil, then put her hands over them.
The area pulsed with magic, imperceptible to non-mages, and bright yellow sunk into the earth.
A sprout eased from the dirt, like a child stretching their arms to the sky.
She'd moved on, but Feo hadn't. Guilt festered in their chest. It had been comfortable, living fully in the confines of the school they built--but now, they were realizing it was an isolating experience in a lot of ways.
They cleared their throat and repeated, “So, Pine Island?”
“Apparently, it’s something of a destination. Tessa took a poll and found several folks willing to establish a town there. Which means a lord needs to be appointed to service the area and report on progress.”
“And that’s Dren.”
“Yep.”
Feo sat beside Kianthe, taking some of the seeds she offered.
Alchemists were typically failed elemental mages, mages who lost connection with the Stone of Seeing and its power as they aged.
Once upon a time, those mages turned to alchemy powered by sacrifice--blood or death, specifically.
But after a massive battle with the old Alchemicor, the dragons inadvertently funneled their powerful, third kind of magic into a stone just for alchemists: the Arcanium.
With even a shard of the Arcanium, Feo could power the circles they drew--magic without sacrifice. They reached into their shirt and pulled out the stone around their neck, its sharp edges capped in gold. It glowed when Feo touched it, the magic swelling to answer their whim.
They planted the seed, drew a simple circle in the soil around it, and let magic infuse the symbol. Alchemy showed as a deep blue--almost purple--glow, and it cleanly sliced the seed. Another push of magic yanked the sprout inside, forcing it out of the dirt.
Kianthe grimaced, but it was an age-old discussion. Alchemy could mimic elemental magic, but never perfectly replicate it. That was fine with Feo. Alchemy could do plenty of magic that elemental mages couldn't fathom.
Feo planted a few other seeds, mulling over Kianthe’s words, contemplating how to respond in a way that wouldn’t seem petty or amusing. They settled on speaking as neutrally as possible. “There must be something else to this new lord, or you wouldn’t have tried to hide it.”
They’d always been terrible at attempts of neutrality.
Kianthe sighed. “Well, Dren happens to be, in Reyna’s words, ‘hotter than a hearth in winter.’” She seemed confused, now. “I don’t know. He has a nice chin, I guess. But Wylan was dazzled—so I had strict orders not to tell you about this yet. Oops.”
Wylan had a crush.
Frankly, the surprise wasn’t that Wylan had found someone new. The surprise was that it had taken so long. Feo’s mind raced, but they realized that Kianthe was waiting for a response—that Kianthe expected Feo to lose their mind over news like this.
That, alone, was irritating. Even worse that it was true.
“I am perfectly capable of learning about new political strides without letting emotion corrupt my response,” Feo sniped.
Kianthe smirked, wrist-deep in soil. “You’re doing a great job.”
“Look—” Feo cut themselves off, drawing a tense breath. “How Wylan spends his time or completes his duties is no concern of mine.” They couldn’t resist adding, bitterly, “He made that quite clear.”
“Sure, sure. Still doing fabulously with that emotion thing,” Kianthe drawled.
Feo wiped off their hands. This entire meeting was far less helpful than they’d expected—and considering their expectation had been for Wylan to simply refuse to see them, that was saying something.
But they hadn’t bargained for Kianthe mocking them for something that was, to this day, the worst experience of Feo’s life.
Wylan was becoming friendly with a new lord, and moving on with his life.
Meanwhile, Feo wasn’t even a diarn anymore. Or a councilmember. Or a neighbor, really.
Feo was just the Alchemicor.
“I think it’s time I leave,” Feo said through gritted teeth.
Kianthe noticed their tone of voice and pushed upwards. “Hang on. If you act like that, Reyna’s going to have my hide for telling you in the first place. It’s been years, Feo. Anyone truly over their ex would have moved on by now… why is this still triggering you?”
“It’s not triggering me. I’m fine.” Feo clenched their fists.
Kianthe assessed them. For a moment, a flash of stubbornness slid across her features, a slight scowl, eyes narrowed. It briefly looked like they’d have to contend with the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, not just Kianthe, the quirky plant mage.
And then, in a breath, that resolve was gone.
Kianthe flapped a hand and dropped back to her knees, retrieving more seeds for the next planter box.
“Okay. Glad to hear it. It’s great to know Reyna was wrong, and you’re not still in love with Wylan.
” Kianthe paused, tasting the words. “Reyna was wrong. Rey-na was wro-ong. Huh. That’s a sentence I don’t get to say often. ”
“I see what you’re doing.”
“Stone-bless, I should hope so.” Kianthe quirked an eyebrow. “But if you want to sit in misery for a few seasons while you figure it out, well, that’s your choice.”
Would Wylan even be single then? Panic swelled in Feo’s chest, and it took everything they had to clamp it down. It didn’t matter if Wylan and Dren got together. They were over. Over over over. Feo gritted out: “I wish Dren the best.”
Without another word, they whistled sharply. A breath later, Kappenicus arrived in a flurry of feathers and wingbeats. He landed beside Feo, saw Kianthe, and screeched.
Kianthe gasped indignantly. “You are lucky Ponder didn’t hear you say that.”
At the mention of the griffon’s adopted “niece,” Kappenicus clamped his beak shut. He avoided Kianthe’s gaze, chastised, as Feo mounted the saddle. The moment Feo was securely on the griffon’s back, Kappenicus seized the chance to leap into the sky.
“There’s a welcome dinner for Lord Dren later this week,” Kianthe called through cupped hands. “You’re invited, oh wonderous Alchemicor, Alchemist of Erring Heart.”
Feo flipped her off, but as they gained altitude and angled back towards the Academy, they ruminated over the invitation. Frankly, they wanted nothing more than to prove that Reyna was wrong. And what better avenue than a formal dinner like this?
After all. The Alchemicor should meet any new lords residing near the Academy of Alchemical Arts. It was only proper.