Page 15 of Prince of Flowers
“It’s not as sinister as all that. It’s simply another name for earth essence, a concentrated form of the element. Venture out into the world, acquire a sample for me, and return here with your limbs and your lives intact. Succeed, and Lochlann receives his Summoner’s Crest. Sylvain receives a wealth of experience and knowledge to bring home to the Verdance, and we’re all the better for it.”
Sylvain cocked his eyebrow and scoffed. “That’s it? Really? We wander out and fetch something for you? Sounds simple enough.”
“Not exactly.” My chest puffed up at the promise of a rare opportunity to show off my knowledge. “Elemental essence is valuable in all kinds of arcane applications — ritual magic, alchemy, the list goes on. Earth essence appears in the form of a green gemstone, smooth and tumbled, like something you’d find in a riverbed. But it’s almost always guarded by a powerful creature of the same element. To harvest any Blood of the Earth, we’ll need to get past a rock golem, maybe a sentient tree.”
“Sounds fun,” Sylvain said, cracking his knuckles.
I appreciated his enthusiasm, but according to everything I’d learned at the Wispwood, elemental guardians weren’t pushovers by any means. Sylvain and I would find out together, then.
The difficulty of confronting guardians was part of why I hadn’t completed my quest — or exam, or trial, whatever. Different professors liked to use different terms. It all boiled down to the same thing, though. This wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
Dr. Fang tilted her head, her chin resting on her knuckles. “Why, I’m touched, Lochlann. You do listen to my lectures, after all.”
I tried not to look so pleased with myself, even knowing that she was mocking me.
“Excellent,” she continued. “Some Blood of the Earth, then. By the end of the week should suffice.”
“Wait, Doc.” I blinked at her, horrified. “But it’s Wednesday.”
“Then the two of you should hurry. I don’t work weekends.”
Sylvain shrugged. “These words mean nothing to me.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy, now did I?” Dr. Fang selected one of her metal pens, signed the bottom of the parchment in a flourish, then pressed a seal against it, leaving a bright red sigil. “There. That makes it official. Happy hunting to you both. I’m glad this went well, gentlemen. And to think that we almost attempted to unbind your pact, the way that Lochlann here originally intended.”
My blood froze.
Sylvain’s jaw clenched. “Lochlann wanted to do what, exactly?”
The anger was etched all over his face. I held my hands up, trying to placate him, but trying to defend myself, too.
“That wasn’t what happened, Sylvain. Let me explain.”
Dr. Fang cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? Then why did you march straight up to my office to see me in the first place? Surely it wasn’t to celebrate, or else you would have gone to your friends instead.”
I gaped at her, speechless. The woman knew me too damn well. Probably knew how to make some fabulous soups and stews, too. She was obviously very good at stirring the pot.
“A little tension works well for testing the bond between summoner and eidolon, I find. The spice in the seasoning. I trust you know your way out, gentlemen.”
Dr. Fang flicked her hand up and outward. My stomach swooped as my armchair glided backward, the legs scraping against the floor. Sylvain’s chair did the same. Behind us, Dr. Fang’s office door flew open. And just like that, we were dismissed.
I cradled my grimoire to my chest as I followed Sylvain out of her office, his hands balled into fists, his shoulders squared. Uh-oh. We stepped into the corridor. Behind us, the door slammed shut. Damn it. Why did Dr. Fang have to do all that?
Sylvain rounded on me, a single finger wagging between us like he was dying to scold and lecture. But instead of words, all he could produce was a bunch of angry, blustery noises.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice purred from further down the corridor. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Sylvain froze, his anger subsiding so fast it made my head spin. His expression rearranged itself into eerie calm, his face utterly neutral, prepared to react in the most favorable way possible. He ran his fingers through his hair like he was only trying to push it out of his eyes. Even as his hand moved his ears changed shaped once again, rounding at the peaks, becoming human.
Huh. Slick, changing his mood as quickly as he changed his shape. Wow. Was this part of royal etiquette over in the Verdance? Whatever it was, it got me off the hook for at least the next few minutes.
I turned toward the sound of the voice, finding Namirah exactly as I expected her: arms and legs crossed, leaning casually against the wall, a twitching pair of cat ears perched on top of her head. Standing next to her was Bruna in her witch’s hat, an empty glass in one hand.
Damn eavesdroppers. I shook my head. With friends like these, am I right?
“Sylvain,” I said, pretending we weren’t about to launch into an argument mere seconds ago. “I’d like you to meet my best friends.”
I’d almost called them a pair of snoops, which would have been more accurate, but never mind that.
