Page 27 of Prince of Flowers
How much preparation was up to the student, of course. Any rich kid could blast their way to victory loaded with a fortune’s worth of magic scrolls purchased from the Black Market. But nowhere was it truer that a cheater was only cheating themself.
It was part of why I’d taken forever to acquire my Crest. I could stock up on some of Bruna’s rarer potions, like the one that granted super strength, punch my way through my exams. I would get my Summoner’s Crest, sure. Easily. But would I have deserved it?
And speaking of trees and forests, as a summoner, community was the most important thing of all. What was I without my eidolons? Just some loser with an old book and a very sad bank account, that’s what.
“Just be sure to make us proud, okay?” Bruna got up from her side of the desk and walked around to give me a huge hug. “Oh, what am I saying? We’re so proud of you already.”
Her ample bosom blotted out the sunlight streaming into her office as she pressed closer. Exaggerating, of course, but it was very hard to overlook considering the cut of the dress she’d selected for the day. Most of her dresses, actually. Okay, all her dresses.
I genuinely admired how Bruna lived her life. Maybe I was a little envious, too, how she had such a positive sense of self, how she felt so comfortable in her own skin. I thought I looked decent with my shirt off — all those calisthenics the Wispwood put in their curriculum actually helped, worming their way into my routine. But I still didn’t love the idea of walking around shirtless, not in front of, I don’t know, Evander? And definitely not in front of Sylvain.
Anyway, Bruna gave pretty nice hugs, too, her skin and hair always smelling so pleasant. A mix of flowers and herbs, maybe. It happened naturally when you were an alchemist, and a professor of potions, no less, working in your own combination office, laboratory, and indoor garden.
The garden third of Bruna’s office was where Sylvain had parked himself. He poked at Bruna’s assortment of rare potted plants, sniffing at this flower, cooing softly at the next, like he was whispering to it, telling it strange secrets. Kind of cute, actually.
Bruna glanced over at him, waggling one eyebrow at me. “So, I trust you guys are getting along a little better?” She waggled both eyebrows, eyes wide. “And I see he’s wearing some of your clothes. Has to be one of yours. He is stretching that hoodie out. Gods, is he stretching it out.”
I shoved her lightly in the shoulder. “Knock it off. Don’t tease me. It’s the only thing that’ll keep his ears hidden while we make our way over to the portals.”
She ushered me from my chair, the plushness of it and the warmth of her office the very opposite of Dr. Fang’s rigid seats and creeping cold.
“Right. The portals. Okay, you best get going then. The sooner you boys go and get that Blood of the Earth, the sooner you can come home and celebrate with us.”
She swept aside a lock of my hair, smiling. I tried not to look so pleased. Bruna was one of my best buddies, but she was also like a sister to me. It was nice, as someone who grew up with no siblings and barely had any parents around.
Bruna had always looked out for me with even the littlest things, cheering me up when Evander Skink’s razor tongue got me down. Sometimes that involved more serious favors, like providing me with the potions. Those things didn’t come cheap, either. It was the nature of the business.
Expensive ingredients resulted in more potent potions and concoctions. A talented alchemist could stand to make a load of money across their career, and yet here Bruna was focusing her time on helping others, whether it was me, or Namirah, or her students. I’d always known she’d become a great teacher, exactly the way that she was a great big sister to me.
Namirah wasn’t always as good at expressing her feelings in that sense, but I saw her as a sister as well. And the ways she helped me were often more physical — tough love, you might say. Sparring sessions, or quick lessons in defending myself.
Hey, I wasn’t completely helpless without eidolons, all right? I didn’t spontaneously develop reflexes during my duel with Skink. Though to be fair, Namirah had never taught me how to protect an annoying rival summoner from being chopped in half using a book.
“Have you seen Namirah around?” I asked. “I would have liked to say goodbye before we left.”
Bruna gave me a flat, knowing smile and shook her head.
“She’s probably prowling around the castle, as usual. You know how she is. Don’t worry, I’m sure she wishes you well, and I know she’ll be very happy to see you just as soon as you get back.” She clapped me on the shoulder and squeezed tight. “Now, get going. The day’s not getting any younger.”
Bruna herded us out of her office, somehow even more excited than I was about the prospect of attaining my Summoner’s Crest. Out in the corridors, Sylvain attracted just as much attention as I expected him to, raising more than a few eyebrows with his combination of a too-tight Wispwood hoodie and his leafy green pants.
His outfit from the day before had sort of matched, at least. It was the scandalous hooded vest. I was sure of it. Maybe once we’d retrieved the Blood of the Earth and got safely home, I could convince him to wear something to match. Sweatpants. Yes. Those gray ones that tended to emphasize a man’s ass — uh, assets — and left nothing to the imagination.
He walked ahead of me, like he even knew where we were heading. It didn’t really bother me much that my own eidolon thought he was the boss — something that Father and even Dr. Fang might have something to say about — but lingering behind Sylvain in particular wasn’t a bad deal at all. I snuck a glance at his butt.
“A fine collection,” he said, just as I was trying to identify the curve of his ass behind the layers of leaves.
“Hmm?” I said, playing innocent.
“Your friend, Bruna? She has an excellent assortment of flora. Though I would have liked to see a rafflesia myself.”
“A rafflesia?” I cocked my eyebrow. “Seriously? Those are very rare, Sylvain. And besides, you would know if there was a rafflesia in her office from the smell alone. The whole floor would know, probably.”
The rafflesia was the biggest flower on the planet, up to three feet from petal to petal, found only in the rainforests of a single island in Southeast Asia. The flower itself was lovely, a rich red with whitish spots. But its smell? Truly putrid, like dead, rotting flesh. Or so I’d read. Part of our education at the Wispwood, really, a basic knowledge of Earth-based plants, the mythical ones included.
“Some people incorrectly call it a corpse flower, but that’s a different plant entirely,” I continued, more than happy for the opportunity to show off. “And it’s native to the island of Borneo. You know, out on Earth. This planet. This world.”
I crossed my arms, glanced at him sidelong.
