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Narsus had visited Brightside’s abode several times over the years.

It was so different from the unorganized chaos of his own aerie.

His friend’s home was welcoming and whimsical.

A cross between farm life and forest living.

Earthy tones and natural elements were abound, accented by various polished stones, seashells, dried as well as fresh botanicals, and all wood furniture.

But so very, very cold here in the high mountains. Brightside’s hearth was an open-ended contraption that heated the entire cottage. Without spells or magic.

Here in the kitchen, plants and shiny bits of crystal shards nestled in nooks, catching the light peppering through windows that were shaded by the trees outside.

Books stacked neatly on shelves contained recipes for food, healing, and magic—so different from Grandfather’s slightly chaotic collections.

Brightside never claimed or considered himself to be a witch.

Or even a wizard, like Calico. His friend just said he was.

Encouraging the natural energies, the gifts, and interests that manifested before him and around him.

While Brightside never said, Narsus suspected he was only half-elf, and the rest of his bloodline was nature-based. Of the very verdure itself .

Narsus had always enjoyed his time here. Until now. Because the elf blasted him with that infamous stare-of-judgment while peeling an orange. All without lowering his gaze to the said peeling. The discarded rinds were left neatly stacked on an empty dinner plate.

They’d just finished supper, but Brightside had a sweet tooth and insisted on dessert. And unfortunately, conversation. “So you’re going through with ignoring your new husband?”

Narsus glared, his feet up on another chair, and too full to properly argue. “Compass-husband.”

“There’s a difference?” Brightside blinked with surprise.

“Of course there isn’t,” Cinder declared, breezing in from where ever he’d been in the house. The dust wand in his hand never stopped moving as he went about his task.

Cinder was a phoenix of the Cottage Forge. And, unfortunately, a Compass-born, too. There were certain behaviors Cinder wouldn’t let Narsus get away with. Both of the Compass-kind, and of the phoenix-kind.

Which was why Brightside had trekked all the way to Narsus’s bleak and isolated cabin. Then coaxed him to spend a few days in cozier surroundings.

Neither man never let him wallow for long. They didn’t tolerate it. In reality, the three of them had been dear friends for ages, and Narsus was very happy to have them in his life. Even when he was mentally immersed in his darkest moments.

Cinder had always been Brightside’s secret weapon against him. Even before the trauma of the ill-fated Compass-match Narsus had had with the Cottage phoenix. And most especially after the said trauma.

The parting between him and Cinder had been…grievous .

But Cinder no longer knew that.

Narsus glared at the other phoenix fluttering about. Cinder had been waiting and ready for them with lots of food. And direct conversations. Narsus fumed. What would Grandfather Calico call this? An intervention?

Cinder cheerfully ignored him, his dancing orange eyes kindling with mischief.

A kerchief kept his riot of orange-reddish curls out of his face, and there were smudges of ash on his cheeks from cleaning out the hearth—which was his ultimate favorite task.

Sleeping in the fire pit was one of Cinder’s most favorite things to do—as a flame among the flames.

To be fair, most phoenix partook of that pastime—when in clandestine surroundings.

Which reminded Narsus that maybe Brightside knew more about phoenix than he let on.

It also made him wonder if the friendship between Brightside and Cinder was more intimate than they let on. But that was none of his business.

“What was wrong with your Intended?” Brightside pressed. “He was cute! Very open to meeting his fated mate. Sun-kissed with sun-bleached hair, too.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with his Intended!” Cinder declared. The dust wand in his hand never stopped moving. “Narsus is just being a deliberate ass, trying to protect himself.”

Narsus continued to glare at Cinder. Cinder, who self-appointed himself to be Bree’s live-in housekeeper. Because he was bored. And anticipating his own Compass-call. He said it would be soon, as he could feel it in his bird-bones.

Narsus took a gulp of his drink. In reality, Cinder had lived with Brightside since…the incident. It was always hard for Narsus to visit here, but he kept doing so.

Narsus poured himself more wine. He’d been grateful Brightside had been the buffer and kept Cinder from bouncing into his arms when they’d walked in the door. The joyous reunions were always one-sided and made Narsus uncomfortable.

Cinder’s compass swung from a chain around his neck while he flittered around the kitchen.

Narsus thought his jaw would crack from having to endure the puttering.

Why there were so many phoenix who were Compass-borns, he’d never know, but there were also many more who were not.

It was frustrating at having his own kind around to bully him. But that had been their plan.

That wasn’t the crux of what was bothering Narsus now. It was Cinder going about his chores. Narsus had worked through this. He’d been fine. Until now.

Being in Cinder’s company hadn’t set him off in a hundred years. He’d always cared about the Cottage phoenix, but he’d never been in love with him.

Narsus couldn’t shake the sudden blanket of sorrow. He took another swallow of the fermented fruit drink before he figured it out. Cinder’s excessive cheer, and especially his positive outlook, reminded him of Lune.

Narsus reached for the bottle. Brightside gave him a long, pressing look before smoothly removing it from his reach. “Face your monsters,” he admonished.

Narsus lashed out. “He reeked of decaying seaweed. Or week-old fish.”

“Liar,” Brightside challenged sharply. “It was fresh sea spray and sun-scalded sand. Like he just washed out of the ocean. Must be Mer-born. Why are you deliberately being an asshole?”

“You know why,” Cinder answered. “Because he IS an asshole. Trapped inside his own head. Verdigris isn’t the only forge who has a monopoly on grief and self-destruction. But Narsus and Lune are fire and water, so it could just be Narsus trying to settle in without drowning.”

Narsus rolled his eyes. Of course Cinder would know all the juicy details.

Because Brightside was telepathic. The talent was so common Narsus often forgot it existed.

The elf must have been gossiping with Cinder when they came up the front walk and paused to take their shoes off.

Narsus sent Brightside a round of heavy mental arrows and rocks—only to be answered with a smug smirk.

“We should do something to help our friend,” Brightside said to Cinder. The elf disposed of the orange peels in a bin Cinder offered. “I recommend a coastal retreat to think about it. To the beach!”

“Yes, a wonderful idea to get him used to the water,” Cinder exclaimed. “Some phoenix can be so squirmy and whiny around water.”

“Oh?” Brightside said, genuinely shocked. “You do so well.”

"Because of you," Cinder answered, his cheeks rosy, and his gaze caressing the elf.

Narsus crossed his arms. “Hey. I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. If you think to try and find this Lune person—”

Brightside’s attention remained on the crow-like phoenix. “We’ll vacation far from a major population. Hardly anyone will be around.”

“And where do you suppose we’ll find room and board?” Narsus challenged, suddenly thinking that there were two-like conversations going on, but with two different meanings. “Or will you be forcing us to sleep under the stars?”

Brightside got up and selected a key from the rack of wall hooks.

And finally addressed Narsus. “Your grandfather. Calico has a secluded beach house on Little Forge Island. He gave me the directions and the keys before he left for home. Unfortunately, there’s only two bedrooms. So your cranky ass gets the couch in the parlor. ”

“If there is a couch,” Cinder teased. “If not, he gets the floor and a blanket. Sounds fair. I’m off to pack.”

Narsus grumbled. “Are you sure Cal’s gone? I really don’t want a lecture from blood relations right now. Especially my grandfather. It’s bad enough I have you two harassing me.”

Brightside waved the keys. “Come on, old bean. That’s what Cal would say. Relax for once. Cal’s treat.”

Narsus sighed. “Fine. Sunbathing on a deserted stretch of sand soaking up the sun might do my mood some good. But if you both plan to sunbathe too—”

“We know, we know,” Cinder said, re-appearing with stuffed satchels in hand. He handed one off to Brightside. “Twenty paces minimum distance.”

“That was quick,” Narsus commented dryly. “As if this was already planned ahead of time.”

The two just moved to the front door and waited for him to get up. Brightside’s cool and distant demeanor allowed for no refusal. Cinder just grinned, tiny orange sparks flashing around those amber-orange eyes.

Grumbling, Narsus knew he had no choice but to haul his butt out of the chair.

Waking up to discover a third jewel had burned out lured Lune into an odd mood. He snapped the compass cover shut and hurried to the docks, eager to return to his beloved Jade Raptor and the ocean.

Finding out that Sachin had taken full advantage of his absence put Lune into an additional spiral of feeling lost. Not only did his friend get the sail repaired in the day Lune had been on the trek to the temple, but his cargo hauler had scored big time.

Secured a full week’s work ferrying the governor of a neighboring island around on a birthday cruise.

At twice the amount they’d make in a single week.

Lune was ecstatic at the marvelous luck. But he did lament the loss of a shoulder to cry on. So it was back to being a companion inside his own head and wander the beach with nothing to do.

While he did miss Calico and his stuffy ways, he reveled in not wearing clothes. Father was a stickler for manners and propriety. And especially modesty.

Fresh and dry from a relaxing, cold bath, Lune carried out his revenge by setting his bare ass on Calico’s favorite chair in the parlor. He hoped he left butt-dents in the fabric.

He wiggled for good measure, settling in with a book.

He’d been waiting for this text and it finally arrived in the mail.

Since most folks on the island fished or raised livestock for a living, no one was too interested in the deep mechanics of vegetable gardening.

The book was Cal’s goodbye gift, because Lune wanted to keep growing those delicious, mouth-burning peppers with funny names that originated from another world.

But not even the printed word could distract him.

There was no telling when Sachin would return.

That governor was known for overstaying his welcome at parties.

So waiting around for his friend to get home also meant waiting around for the innkeeper or the dock master to get back to him about a temporary job.

So he could eat something that wasn’t from the ocean.

As Lune tried to read, that beaked mask invaded his thoughts. What would it be like? Getting all worked up and sweaty while Narsus wore it. And what Narsus looked like underneath it. Lune shook the thoughts out of his head. No point in torturing himself.

His belly suddenly rumbled. Lune really didn’t want to deal with trawling the water for his meals, but hunting while excessively hungry, could cause mistakes. Better to do it now while he had some reserve left.

With a sigh, he put down his book and pushed out of Calico’s favorite chair. He grabbed the fishing spear out of the closet. It would be nice to wallow under the waves for a while and get Narsus—Mr. Attitude out of his head.

Lune paused at the water’s edge, looking out across the serene glimmers. It suddenly struck him how lonely he was. But not lonely enough to subject himself to someone who didn’t, or wouldn’t even try to be interested in him.

Wading into the waves, Lune let the current guide him out to his next meal.