Page 30 of Prince of Flowers
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “So, I imagine we’re taking this oriel thing to our destination, wherever that may be.”
“I told you. One of the challenge grounds. This one is the Oriel of Earth. It’s where we’ll get the stone Dr. Fang requested for her test.”
Sylvain placed his hands on his hips, admiring the stained glass and its many panels, like a fancy bay window. This oriel featured an ornate depiction of an oak tree. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in its branches, its leaves so lush I could hear them rustling in the wind. If you looked closely, you might find the gnarled face on the great oak’s trunk.
The old mage lords who built the castle discovered pockets of luminal space that intersected with our own, places that offered frighteningly high concentrations of the four elements. These windows had been magicked to link to those very places, enchantment breathed and blown into the glass, stirred into the pigment.
Convenient for the sake of harvesting strange and unusual reagents, of course, the Blood of the Earth among them. And with the castle under the governance of the three headmasters, these four oriels and their corresponding dimensions found plenty of use for academy exams and trials. What better way to learn about a sylph or a dryad than to see one up close for yourself?
But that didn’t mean they were very safe. Every so often Headmaster Shivers would drift into one of the oriels to personally scrape up someone’s remains. Sometimes it was a staffer, and sometimes it was a hapless student who’d grown too big for their britches.
I clenched my fists, tugging on my own britches, or pants. Whatever. We were going to be fine. I had a powerful, if alleged fae prince at my side. A quick in and out job, no sweat.
“So how do we get in?” Sylvain asked, scratching the end of his nose. “Do we jump? This is all very silly, isn’t it?”
“You and your big mouth. Yes. That’s exactly what we’re doing. You act like you’ve never traveled through a mirror or a painting before. It’s the same principle.”
“I haven’t,” he said, nervously, at first, before he broke into one of his standard glowers. “That is so oddly specific, too. Why would I travel through a — ”
“Because of your precious, perfect Verdance,” I snapped. “You’re always going on about how much better it is. Shocks me why you’d bother coming here at all. And how did you even get here in the first place, anyway?”
He crossed his arms and stamped his foot, a big, pouting boy. “Well, I was teasing at first, but now I really won’t tell you.”
I groaned, yet again questioning the worth of sealing a pact with this moody man-baby. How old was he, anyway? Were all fae this flighty regardless of age? The lore certainly checked out.
“Enough, already. Let’s just get this over with.”
I reached for his wrist. He sputtered and resisted, exactly like a stubborn child. But I laced my fingers through his, the roughness of his palm against mine, and he relented. It could have been a stray shaft of light from the stained glass of the Oriel of Fire, but his cheeks and the skin around his chest seemed redder.
Was he blushing? Oh, whatever. I squeezed his hand. His muscles stiffened. He swallowed, eyes flitting around the room, avoiding my gaze.
“We’re heading in,” I said.
“Right,” he replied, softer than before.
“Here we go.” I tugged on his hand. He stumbled, still hesitant. “Sylvain? We have to go now.”
“Where?”
“Gods above and below — into the oriel, Sylvain. Follow my lead.”
“I don’t see how this is going to work. What if we shatter the glass and bits of it get into my — oh, oh no.”
He ran alongside me despite his rambling, the two of us building momentum across the floor of the Spire of Radiance. Our footfalls rang in my ears, layered with Sylvain’s panicked muttering, which soon turned into a shout. Wow. He really was terrified of getting a face full of broken glass.
My feet left the ground. So did his. I stole a peek at his face as we leapt toward the window, the light on his skin shifting green and gold and brown. His eyes were shut, his teeth clenched, but he still made the jump, still held my hand.
Our bodies struck the Oriel of Earth, but it didn’t break, no smashing of glass. Reality parted for us, the membrane between worlds warm, soft, like clay in the sun, like earth. Sylvain opened his eyes, gasping as the Wispwood and the chamber fell away behind us in fragments of stone and glass, jewels tumbling through the air.
I held my breath. He was radiant.
My feet touched solid ground, the crunch of grass, twigs. We’d arrived. Excellent. Sylvain blinked hard, letting my hand go. With both hands he threw off the hood of his vest and stared around us, mouth open, eyes blazing gold in the sunlight. I smirked at him and folded my arms.
“So. Better than the Verdance this time?”
“Hush,” he said, nudging me with his hand. “Nothing’s better than the Verdance. But this — this is beautiful.”
Different corners of the world converged in this strange and wondrous place. Plants found their way into the dimension and simply decided to set down roots — climate, soil, humidity be damned. A coconut tree grew next to a pine, their fronds and needles swaying in the same breeze, coconuts and pine cones littering the forest floor beneath them.
