Chapter 100: Feldan's Return
Feldan cleaned the blood off his hands. The spies his father had sent after him were no more, but he couldn’t guarantee the tricky old bastard hadn’t sent others.
After dumping the bodies in the sea, he turned his attention to the mountains. Just on the other side was his goddess.
He was hers. Everything in his body and soul believed it. He belonged to no one else in the world.
Gods, he wanted to see her.
Would she blush, or snap? Glare at him? Pretend she wasn’t listening to his music again?
Would she let him hold her? The real him this time?
His brother had waxed poetic for over a century about his beloved. Feldan had been dreaming of the same since that first night his brother returned from a foray into the tribe’s territory and discovered the magic of perfect compatibility. It was because of his brother’s influence that Feldan himself finally looked beyond the walls of his own palaces and attempted to see the outside world, his brother’s death the catalyst driving him to seek more.
And now he had found her.
His goddess.
He wouldn’t let these spies touch her. It didn’t matter what his father did, he would keep his vow. His goddess required freedom, and that was what he intended to give her.
Letting himself fall beneath the waves, he flew with speed towards the base of the mountains. His father’s spies wouldn’t be able to follow him underground—he’d make sure of it.
Squirt chewed on wakeberries most of the night. The greenlings she sent to bed once she had finished her interviews. Lowvyn, Lord Everwinter’s attendant, was sent to her after Dusty and Kenna left. Once the interviews were done, Lowvyn helped Squirt figure out placements, as the attendant knew which fey were trusted and which were not.
***
What Squirt didn’t know was Lowvyn was part of her fan club and thus also knew all of the other members.
***
Squrit was able to lean on Lowvyn’s expertise to help figure out the best placements, and by the morning, they had a solid plan to give the exhausted Seneschal.
Lowvyn, rather than taking the plan to the Seneschal herself, insisted that Squirt be the one to speak with the woman.
Squirt did so reluctantly. Meaning right as dawn was breaking, attendant and huntress were in front of the Seneschal’s office door.
Nervous though she was, at a gesture and kind smile from the equally tired attendant, Squirt reluctantly knocked.
“Come in,” came the tired voice.
Squirt entered, Lowvyn trailing right behind her for moral support.
The Seneschal’s office here at Everwinter was noticeably warmer than the one Squirt visited in Riverlands. Like Lord Everwinter’s, the décor was done to reflect the natural woodlands of the area, with beautifully carved leaves on the hand-carved shelves. Unlike the lord’s office, every available surface was covered in piles of clutter—boards, parchment, books, even detailed maps of the castle and the surrounding area. Behind the desk was a massive board with hundreds of names written on it, each one with a listed job, home, and, as Squirt watched, moving papers that shifted themselves to indicate whether someone was on or off shift.
The Seneschal herself was a plump looking winter fey by the looks of her—her silver hair with streaks of white denoted her age, her eyes of the same silver hue as her hair, her skin pale from her work indoors and her heritage. It was hard to identify what kind of fey she was at a glance. She had no discernable features leaning any one way.
She stood at their entrance, waving them in, exhausted acceptance on her face. “Come in, come in. What news, Lowv—oh.” She blinked down at Squirt, having only just seen her over the piles of clutter on her desk.
Squirt bowed politely, her eyes as wary as the Seneschal’s were weary.
With a wave of the Seneschal’s hand, the door shut, and Squirt felt a shiver of magic as wards engaged. Only once they had did the Seneschal speak again, her eyes wide with concern. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Athereon?”
Squirt balked at the address, the words, “I’m not titled,” slipping out in a horrified whisper.
The Seneschal merely nodded. “I am aware.” She gestured at the board where the name Athereon lit up briefly, indicating she was in the castle. “But you’re registered as a special guest to be treated with care and accommodated within reason. Thus, I address you so.”
Stunned, Squirt stared at the name Athereon on the board.
The Seneschal must have misinterpreted the shock on her face, as she said with a gentleness to her voice, “The board cannot be read when I am not in my office and turns itself into a cipher when I wish. An old spell passed down for generations in my Family.”
It did indeed feel like old, powerful magic. Intrigued, Squirt almost asked for more details. Instead, she cleared her throat and held up the boards in her hands. “The Queen has sent a hundred greenlings to Everwinter seeking shelter and asylum.”
The Seneschal faltered, collapsing back into her chair.
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Squirt pursed her lips at the pale look on the woman’s face and held up the boards higher. “I’ve interviewed and catalogued them, and we’ve assigned them roles. All we need is your approval, and I’ll get them situated this week.”
It took a second for Squirt’s words to sink in for the Seneschal. But once they did, the awed gratitude on her face as she genuinely teared up was enough to make Squirt take a wary step back. The Seneschal stood from her chair, stepping around the cluttered mess of her desk to then kneel in front of Squirt.
Squirt reared back, but with the clutter around the rest of the office, there were few places for her to go.
The Seneschal took the boards by holding Squirt’s hands, smiling and saying, “Bless you, Athereon, bless you indeed.” Then she took the boards, quickly reading over them while Squirt had a mental crisis of panic, embarrassment, and nerves. The Seneschal nodded several times, her eyes growing sharper with each line read, her smile growing warmer. After reading over the last board, she sighed wistfully, giving Squirt a tired smile and said, “Would that I could, I’d hire you right now.”
Squirt muttered, “Weirdly enough, you wouldn’t be the first to make that kind of offer.”
She nodded, then went back to the first board, touching the names and flicking them off the wood one by one. They flew and settled themselves on spare parchment that then attached itself to the large board behind her desk. While she did that, she asked breezily, “What of accommodations?”
Squirt, momentarily awed by the magic and wishing she could see the spell, said in a milder, somewhat daydream tone, “His lordship will be expanding again. For now, they’re in the carriage storage.” Some of those with jobs, like with Quint, would be moving into accommodations for the job itself. Others would need their own.
The Seneschal nodded with a frown as she continued flicking names over. “What of the servants’ mess?”
Squirt shifted from foot to foot. “… they’ve been given pots by the quartermaster and can make their own. They need not dirty your space.”
“Nonsense. Breakfast will be served soon. I’ll call on Lord Hawke to escort them. They’ll be safer in a larger area where there are more eyes available.”
Dumbfounded, Squirt gave the woman a hard stare.
She didn’t acknowledge Squirt’s attention as she stood, continuing to swipe names over as she walked over to the board before touching Instructor Hawke’s name. It glowed with a pulsing light, and then she nonchalantly went back to swiping the rest of the names from the boards.
Squirt had never wanted to see the base spell so badly in her life.
“What of clothes? Supplies?”
In a daze, Squirt said, “They have little else but the clothing on their backs. Still, they are resourceful and used to making do with scraps.”
The woman nodded with a frown. “We may have to at this rate. The leathers from your hunters have certainly helped, but we need more fabric. I’ll have to order some from the Capital.”
Squirt paled but kept her opinions to herself. The idea of having materials ordered from the Capital for greenlings was…
Lowvyn spoke, her voice calming and soothing. “Her highness has already promised to help supply for our increase in population. His lordship is calculating supplies needed as we speak to be delivered next week.”
Squirt’s brows raised in appreciation. A week was a fast turnaround. Could caravans even travel that fast?
“Thank the gods—and so many who can sew! The seamstresses will be very pleased by this. You said you’ll take them around to their new workplaces?”
Squirt nodded, her eyes still wary on the woman.
She bustled behind her desk, setting down the boards and pulling out a drawer. Rooting around in it a bit, she pulled out an inkpot and a small board of her own, sitting down and writing on it. After a minute of listening to the quill scratching against the wood and feeling the soft presence of magic as it mixed with the ink, Squirt watched her stand and round her desk, handing it to her. “This is my seal. If you run into any issues, place your hand on it and speak my title. I’ll hear you. It also acts as a visual of my approval in case anyone has doubts.”
Squirt took the board carefully in her hands, feeling a light pulse of title magic emanating from it. Her eyes tracked up to glance at the lady’s warm, silver eyes before she bowed politely in appreciation for the Seneschal.
The woman smiled. “Bless you this day, Athereon. You’ve been more help to me than you know.”
Thoroughly weirded out by the exchange, Squirt merely bowed again before turning and leaving the office and the strange, friendly fey behind.
Feldan remained underground across all of Everwinter, the trees parting their roots for him as he sped through the earth. His heart raced, nerves pushing him faster than ever before. It was just about daybreak when she’d wake, and he wanted to be there to greet her when she did.
Arriving at the hunter’s clearing, he slowed to a stop, frowning in concentration. Even without scanning, he could tell there were a lot of hunters present. Maybe twice as many as before.
He hesitated.
Did he risk coming up if she wasn’t there? Could he pass himself off as a less powerful spring pixie reasonably enough if he did?
Hm.
Letting out the smallest bit of magic he could, he cast a sensing spell he’d perfected that would be nearly undetectable, letting his senses flow out. Through the earth. Up through the ground. Into the buildings and tents.
Not there.
He crossed his arms, thinking. She woke at daybreak, and he still had a quarter of an hour to go. It was too early for her to go out hunting for the day.
Perhaps she had gone to report at the Keep?
Deciding to at least check it out, he headed a little way south until he was under Everwinter Keep, casting his spell from as far away as he could to make it as diffused as possible. He needed to be calculated about this, not flashy, not when he was trying to not be… him.
Hm.
Regardless.
A mix of instinct and his spell drew him to the stables. He didn’t know why she’d be in the stables, but that would surely be private enough for him to appear and get his bearings while also getting the chance to dazzle her with his wings once more—
Distracted and excited as he was, Feldan didn’t think about how strong the signal was. How strong the pull. He’d only felt the presence of fey magic that resonated so sweetly with his own, drawing him closer more urgently than a siren’s call. No other signatures, no other resonances, just her, alone, in this back storage room in the stable—
At a thought, the bricks and stones broke from their mortar, shifting out of the way as he came up through the ground to—
Dozens of fey huddled together. Not his goddess at all.
Ah… whoops.
He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
This secrecy thing was more difficult than usual. How did he mess up this badly? He wasn’t the smartest, he knew, but that spell had been instrumental in escaping the confines of the palaces. He’d never misjudged in all the years he’d been using his scan spell. Off by one or two, maybe, but not by this many.
Odd.
Even odder than that, he’d never seen a green fey before his goddess. Now there were dozens scattered about. All of them looked to be just waking—having clearly slept in a large pile on the floor—and were clearly terrified of his appearance.
Well… that wasn’t exactly his usual reception when appearing before fey. He was handsome and charming, not terrifying.
Not usually.
Smiling at them all, he waved genially.
Those who were panicking traded panic for dropping their eyes and standing as if ready to receive orders.
Deciding he had dwelled on them enough, he scanned the room once more, wondering if she was hidden in a corner somewhere. Or if not, perhaps she had only just left.
Sending out another subtle pulse of magic, he cast his senses—
Only to have his magic resonate not with a soft chime, but dozens.
Dozens.
Those standing before him… they all resonated. A hundred chimes sounding all at once.
They all felt like her.