Etienne didn’t understand. Not exactly.
His life had always felt his own, even as a child, misunderstood by the family he had been born to. His mind, his surety in his own eventual path had formed a foundation that was solely his. Moxous had been a tool to use, not another master.
And it had been that hubris, that unfailing belief in his own eventual greatness that had ultimately led to his worst mistake, the summoning of Enyo.
Still, he nodded anyway. If Alphonse felt as though she had found the same fit in her Wildlands village as he was striving for at the school, then he should be happy for her.
He motioned around the rooms he lived in. “Sort of like this is mine.”
“Precisely. Though my home is a bit cleaner…”
Etienne snorted and looked around his home: tall ceilings, shelves for all his books and scrolls. A hearth in every room and glossy glass tiles in the bathing rooms and kitchen. Sure, it was a little cluttered, but he still thought it looked nice.
“Are you happy here, Etienne? I rather thought you would have become a traveling sorcerer, not rooted to one place.”
Etienne smiled sardonically. Hadn’t he gotten enough traveling in that year or more of traipsing through the Wildlands? Then again, he supposed there were merits to moving wherever he could find the information for his next study…
No. That life was a thing of the past, gone along with Allee’s career as a notable healer.
“I have a purpose here,” he said. “Giving the students of Moxous moral guidelines rather than just power and school rules.”
He would make it so that students would not repeat his mistakes, too caught up in their own ascension to pay heed to consequences. It would be his life’s legacy. A better Moxous. Rather than new discoveries.
And was he happy?
No. He didn’t think so.
But it was enough.
“I do miss you, though,” he said with a small smile. “How close we used to be.”
The healer reached across the distance between them and placed her hand atop of his. “I miss you as well, brother,” she murmured, squeezing gently as though to convey the truthfulness of her statement. “If you ever grow bored of Moxous, you could come to my home. Meet my ladies. Sylvie wouldn’t mind another human to boss around.”
“Ah, yes.” Etienne smiled. “The chickens.”
He looked down at Alphonse’s hand, laid over his. Small as ever. Unchanged, even. Despite all that had happened. He hadn’t ever truly lost her—not even the darkest moments of their journey to Thlonandras or the events that followed.
And maybe they would never be as close as they once had been.
But they were still family.
“That sounds good. Maybe during the winter break. If that’s alright with you, sister.”
“Truly?” Her hands tightened all the more, and then she tugged Etienne into another hug. “I would want nothing more than to see you for the winter solstice!”
❀
With a muffled creak, the door to Etienne’s home sailed open. A rich voice trilled, “Etiii? I’ve come to drag you from your work. Where are you, thoughtful flower?” and Alphonse yanked back from her embrace with the mage to see an astounding man standing in the doorway with an armful of roses in the crook of one elbow, and a bottle of wine in his other hand. He was incredibly fit, with mahogany hair and skin and dancing, blue-black eyes. His white shirt was entirely unbuttoned, revealing a chiseled chest and well-formed abdominal muscles. Alphonse could not think of a single reason why anyone would be bursting into Etienne’s home, let alone a man who looked as though he were a model for the art school sculptors. How had he even gotten in? Was the door unlocked, or did he have a key?
An odd sound of surprise escaped her lips at the same moment that Etienne made a strangled sort of gasp. Both brother and sister struck dumb; they just stared at the stranger, whose initially seductive expression was changing into one of confusion. “Oh, ah… I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Allee?” Delyth’s voice came from the spare bedroom, tension making it sharp. She must have heard Alphonse’s squeak of surprise when the stranger came in.
Peeling her gaze off the man with a god-like physique, Alphonse noted that Etienne’s blood pressure was rising, his face a darker shade of red than the roses the half-dressed man had brought. “Jacques, I— I forgot!” he sputtered as Delyth padded into the room. While her hands were empty of weapons, Alphonse saw them fisted, ready for battle.
“Uh,” the man, presumably, Jacques, seemed to recover faster than the rest of them, smiling broadly and covering his bare chest with the wine bottle. “Hello, you must be Etienne’s friends? I’m Jacques, I’m also his— er— friend.”
“Oh,” Alphonse said.. She had never known Etienne to make friends, but she supposed he would now that he worked at Moxous. “Do you work at the school too?”
“Moxous? Oh, ha, no. I’m a florist,” Jacques gestured towards his bouquet of roses in explanation, and Alphonse nodded as if she understood. But she didn’t. Etienne, who had gone paler than his usual alabaster, did not say a thing.
“Are you doing a study with flowers? Perhaps a botany experiment?” He usually found herblore and botany boring, but maybe he had found an interesting spell or paper on the topic.
“A study on flowers?” If possible, the question only seemed to confuse Etienne. “No. I’m rewriting the Moxous curriculum, remember?” He glanced at Jacques and reddened again but didn’t provide her with more explanation.
Alphonse felt Delyth behind her and looked up into blue eyes with confusion. The warrior placed a hand on each of her shoulders, smoothing outwards and down her arms. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Alphonse’s head, then brought her lips to the healer’s
