Page 13 of Prince of Flowers
And so I looked, because it was impossible not to.
Sylvain was stretched out there with his eyes closed, oblivious to the world, loving the touch of the sun on his skin. I hated how much I loved the sight of him, too. The light truly was doing his physique justice.
Euclidea sighed. “Out of all the students who have streamed in and out of these hallowed halls, you decided to wander out into the forests and find yourself a fae prince. Honestly. Whatever happened to a nice, classic dragon? Perhaps a basilisk, or a rock golem? No. You had to be special and bring back — this.”
Her words trailed off as Sylvain adjusted himself on the chair, turning to give us a polite wave, as if to say that he was still waiting to be let in. Like a puppy, I thought. His bicep bulged as he gestured, the muscles in his chest and his arm rippling.
I pursed my lips and nodded in understanding. “This,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. “Yeah. I know, right?”
Dr. Fang banged her fist on the table, flustered, but collected herself again. “That’s not the point and you know it. We at the Wispwood have a better understanding of the fae and their ways now, well and good. But for you to contract one of them as an eidolon — and royalty, no less? What are the repercussions?”
“It’s not like I did it on purpose. This was purely coincidence. It’s not like we have dragons and unicorns traipsing around the forests here. Pact of the Unknown. I told you.” I folded my arms and grumbled, my grimoire pressing tight against my chest. “And I can handle it,” I added, forcing strength into my voice despite my own disbelief and lack of confidence.
How the tables had turned, really. I still couldn’t believe how I’d come to Dr. Fang’s office wanting to unbind myself from Sylvain. But now, the more she told me it was a bad idea to work with him, the more I wanted to prove her wrong.
“You’re not saying that I should unbind myself from him, are you?”
Dr. Fang pushed her palms on the table, stood up, and scoffed. “Please. Do you really expect me to believe you’d give up a catch as rare as this? Something to rub in everyone’s face? I know you better than you know yourself, Lochlann. You’ll lord this over Evander Skink for the rest of your days.”
The mention of my nemesis successfully raised my blood pressure a couple of notches, but she’d given me room to maneuver, and I wasn’t about to give it back.
“Then you’re wondering yourself, too,” I said, lifting my chin, quietly triumphant. “You can’t help your own intellectual curiosity, Doc. Wouldn’t this be an excellent opportunity to learn about what the fae can offer us summoners?”
Her nose wrinkled as her lips drew back. I prepared myself for the scathing barrage she was about to launch, but she managed to distill the venom into three simple words.
“Your Summoner’s Crest.”
Fucking ouch. Like a dagger to the heart. Euclidea Fang was nothing if she wasn’t surgical and precise. She knew exactly how to cut deep.
“Didn’t you tell me yourself? You want to finally acquire your Summoner’s Crest this year.”
I twiddled my thumbs, staring at the tangle of fingers in my lap as I wrung my hands together. “Yes,” I answered glumly.
From above me, Dr. Fang sighed. “Lochlann, it’s been long enough,” she said, her voice softer, almost kinder. “I agree. It is way past time that you go on a quest and complete your studies here at the Wispwood. I don’t mean this to humiliate you, but — gods, Lochlann. You’re probably the oldest senior we have on campus.”
I could feel my ears burning, but none of what she’d said was untrue. Maybe I should have been a bit more forthcoming about my status. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, I really was too old to be taking and retaking the same classes at the Wispwood.
Namirah had stayed to refine her talent in magical shifting. Even Bruna had graduated years back, so skilled in alchemy that she’d gone on to become a professor at the academy, with her own office and everything. Not as spacious and sun-filled as Euclidea’s, but that wasn’t the point. What did I have to show for it?
The only reason they never kicked me out was all of Father’s contributions to the institution, whether financial or otherwise. That’s right. By most measures, I was a failure, only tolerated at the Wispwood for Daddy’s donations. At least he wasn’t around to witness how his only son was a tragic disappointment in the exact path of magic he’d already mastered.
But there was also the question of the inheritance. I’d scrimped and saved for years, doing odd jobs, doing my best to stay frugal while showing a happy face, like I was leading a comfortable lifestyle. But time and money were both running out. This was my last chance to collect, as Father’s directions stipulated.
“This is unorthodox, to say the least,” Dr. Fang said, “but yes, developing a bond with a humanoid eidolon should be entirely plausible. It’s been done. Again, uncommon, but not impossible. Grand Summoner Celestina comes to mind.”
Her hand perched on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I hadn’t even noticed her stepping around her desk.
“But Lochlann, don’t you think that this is too much for you? Read through all the great scrolls and tomes of our discipline. There is strong historical basis for working with all sorts of eidolons. Why wouldn’t you want to follow a path already paved for you? A template has been provided, a plan already set. There is no plan, no information for what transpires between a summoner and one of the fae. Wouldn’t you want to know the rules before you go about breaking them?”
My gaze shifted toward the balcony. Sylvain had fallen asleep, a hand over his eyes. The tips of my fingers dug into the spine of my grimoire. I’d never really been one for following the rules.
Dr. Fang’s voice lowered as she bent toward me. “Do we even know what he’s capable of? Beyond crafting sexy clothing out of leaves, I mean.”
I cleared my throat and shifted uneasily in my chair. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that, Dr. Fang. I sensed it, on the wind — his power. It’s kind of depressing how little faith you have in me.”
She shook her head as she walked back around her desk. “It isn’t that I have little faith in you, Lochlann. The path you are taking toward your Crest is difficult, completely untrodden. There is no guidebook for this, no formula to follow.”
“Then maybe I just have to write my own,” I said, my lip turned up, my teeth clenched.
