Page 16 of Prince of Flowers
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Sylvain said, offering a scintillating smile. “My name is Sylvain.”
The anger had vanished completely, shoved to some corner of his brain, saved for later. I clenched the muscles in my stomach, as if to steel myself. Okay, so maybe I did want to break the pact initially. I never expected to meet a softer, more pleasant side of him so soon.
But that only brought its own concerns. Why did his mind change so suddenly about becoming my eidolon, about helping me find the Blood of the Earth? Something was fishy here. So many questions. Too many.
“I’m Bruna. Bruna Hernandez. Part of the faculty here, actually. Alchemy.”
She tugged and adjusted her hat by its brim, one of those conical ones favored by witches and wizards, its end flopping over. Not for lack of quality — Bruna cared as deeply for fashion as she did her work, and her students. She was my age, young as far as professors went, and already well-loved.
As good as she was with people, Bruna could still get flustered and excited to meet anyone new. I always suspected it was deliberate, her friendliness and vulnerability, a way to catch others off guard. Bruna had the aura of someone who could be a little clumsy, though she was anything but.
It took accuracy in timing and measurement to truly succeed at alchemy. The woman could brew powerful potions like nobody’s business. Just so happened to be a good cook, too, in all sorts of cuisines, but especially Filipino food. How she could stuff a full serving of stew or a shaved ice dessert in a glass phial was anybody’s guess.
“A teacher?” Sylvain said. “A noble profession. You’re very different from the woman I just met. Softer. Sweeter.”
Bruna tittered and lowered her head, blushing under the safety of her hat. Sylvain really could turn it on and off like a spigot, his charm stashed away somewhere inside his handsome skull, probably on a shelf right next to the anger. A little scary, and fuck, okay, a little sexy, too.
“Right,” I said, my eyes narrowed. “Very soft and sweet. What’s that you’ve got in your hand there, Bruna?”
“Oh. Oh, this? I needed a drink.” She stuck her lip up in defiance. “And I drank it. So, there.”
“And you just happened to be standing right here in this corridor, waiting for me and Sylvain to show up.”
“Some of the students saw you coming up to Dr. Fang’s office,” Namirah said. “People were talking in the courtyard, that maybe you’d forged a pact at last. Is it true, Locke? We’re very proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly, still suspicious.
I wasn’t new to this game. I’d used empty drinking glasses to listen through doors before. Didn’t work all that well. But it didn’t matter if Bruna missed some of the juicier parts. Namirah would have easily heard everything with her very obvious cat ears.
“But yeah, it’s about time, isn’t it?” I gestured toward Sylvain with both hands, making a show of it, like I was presenting my new boyfriend. Eidolon. I totally meant eidolon. “Sylvain here is an alraune. You know, half-plant, half-man.”
“I am? Oh. Yes. I am.” He tightened his fists, straightened his back. “I am an alraune. Again, I am pleased to meet you, Bruna. And, uh — ”
Namirah placed a hand over her chest and nodded, her bangles and earrings clinking. “Oh, where are my manners? Namirah. Happy to make your acquaintance. I’m a student here at the Wispwood. Possibly forever.”
Her laughter tinkled as musically as the jingle of her gold jewelry, which looked spectacular against her bronze skin, the sleek jet-black of her waist-length hair. Namirah carried herself like a supermodel — regal, statuesque — and in fact very much looked like one. But her incredible gift for shapeshifting meant she was most at home at the Wispwood.
She wasn’t kidding about being a forever-student, just in a different way than I was. Namirah collected degrees like I collected demerits, going down yet another track and mastering yet another animal form. She wasn’t born a shifter. The metamorphosis wasn’t rooted in her blood, something that came naturally to werewolves. No, Namirah changed her shape through the use of magic.
Of course, sometimes she could forget to change bits of herself back. I tapped the top of my head.
“You’ve still got those fuzzy — yeah, those cat ears. Yep. Right there.”
She laughed again, this time nervously, holding one hand to her chest and covering her mouth with the other. “Oh, would you look at that? I was just — experimenting. Yes. That’s right.” The cat ears shrank, disappearing under her hair.
I crossed my arms and frowned, looking her from head to toe. “Experimenting. Right in the hallway outside Dr. Fang’s office. How convenient.”
Sylvain scratched the end of his nose and shrugged. “I don’t see what’s wrong. Excellent work, I say. It’s an admirable quality, being able to transform your appearance. Why, some of the best changelings in the Verdan — ”
I shoved my elbow up and into his stomach. He grunted and doubled over, coughing. I braced him by the back, patting and rubbing in circles, but not before mentally recording how incredibly tight his abdominals were. And yeah, the shoulders were pretty great, too. Damn it.
“What Sylvain meant to say is that he’s met creatures who are very good at changing themselves, out in the verdant forests surrounding the, um, the Wispwood. You know alraunes. They get around. Hah.”
“We heard everything,” Bruna cried out, shortly before clapping her hands over her mouth. Namirah rolled her eyes and groaned. “Everything. Verdance, prince, fae, all of it.”
I grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her a little for good measure. “Will you keep it down?” I hissed. “The two of you are the worst. I was going to tell you anyway.”
“What?” Sylvain crossed his arms and turned his nose up. “But the very frightening woman behind this door right here told us that I am not, under any circumstances, to reveal my identity on Wispwood grounds. Goodness. Imagine it. I could be mobbed. I’m sure no one has ever met fae royalty before.”
