Page 36 of Prince of Flowers
“Oh, you really are such a flatterer, princeling. I’ve been told that I stink of fruit, and flowers, and sex. But I’ve never been told that I stink of power.” She winked at him, grinned harder. “I think I quite like it.”
Sylvain growled and grumbled to himself. His sword made of leaves still hadn’t been dismissed, I noticed, clutched in one white-knuckled hand. The other hand was bunched into a tight fist.
“Gods above and below,” I muttered. “It’s really you. You’re Aphrodite.”
She curtsied, the flowers at her feet swooning. “In the flesh.”
Accurate. So much flesh — and hair, and jewelry, but barely anything else. Alluring. That was the word to describe her. But I had to keep in mind that all this beauty about her had been engineered specifically for the purpose of seduction. The sparkle, her scent, the flowers.
“Color me curious,” I said, because I absolutely was. “Why are you visiting us? Why here?”
She crossed her legs again, hovering in midair, sitting on a throne that we couldn’t see.
“I already told you, summoner, sapling. I am very curious about how this is going to work out between the two of you. I heard it on the wind, you know? This spell that you cast to seduce this beautiful princeling boy from out of the ether.”
“He entrapped me,” Sylvain said, crossing his arms with a huff, glancing away.
The sword fell from his hand, dissipating into a flurry of leaves, returning to the forests once more. I would have gotten mad at him for that thing he said about entrapment, but at least he’d accepted that this wasn’t going to be a fight. Good enough for me.
“Oh, entrapment seems so harsh,” Aphrodite said. “Isn’t there a more pleasant way to put that? Ah. Ensnarement, perhaps. You were drawn to this luscious young summoner, this sapling with his fresh, sweet droplets of nectar. His thick, rich honey. You simply couldn’t resist, could you, princeling?”
I blushed. Sylvain muttered under his breath. “Rancid honey, perhaps.”
Aphrodite clapped her hands in delight, the bangles on her wrists jangling. “Oh, how exciting to see all this tension between the two of you. And so early on in what will no doubt be an exciting and contentious relationship. Pact. Sorry. I meant to say pact, of course. It’s quite unprecedented, you know? None of the grand summoners throughout recorded history have ever contracted one of the fae, and certainly not a fae prince.”
I nodded along as she spoke, curious myself. “You pay a lot of attention to summoners, do you?”
“Why, yes, I do. It’s as I said. The basis of summoning is really just respect, trust, and perhaps even love. I’ve known you for so long, little sapling, and I thought it was time to introduce myself. You’ve known me practically all your lives, the two of you, and yet we’ve never met.”
Sylvain and I exchanged confused glances. All our lives?
“I’ve known you forever, Lochlann Wilde.” Aphrodite offered me a sad smile. “Every time you wished to become more like your father, to become a better summoner, you prayed to me.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I murmured, kicking at the grass. Yet it wasn’t entirely false, either.
“And I’ve never met one of the fae myself. Oh, as handsome and marvelously chiseled as I’d hoped, Prince Sylvain. My people can never hope to enter the Verdance, but every harsh whisper, every shuddering moan you uttered as you claimed your many, many, many bedchamber conquests reached my ears all the same. As sweet to me as birdsong, as music, your prayers.”
“I would never,” he said, reddening. I wondered about this odd resentment he seemed to harbor for Aphrodite — for all the gods, really — but I was also wondering about those incredibly many conquests. “I would never pray to your kind.”
“And yet you did.” Aphrodite smiled in triumph. Her perfect teeth sparkled in the sunlight. “I’ll be watching the two of you. How curious.”
“Not too closely, I hope,” Sylvain said, his eyes narrowed.
The goddess laughed and wagged her finger. “You’re very funny, you. I quite like you. Now, since I’m here anyway, perhaps I could ask the two of you for a favor. I have a little problem that you can help me solve.”
“Not bloody likely,” Sylvain said.
Aphrodite pouted. “Oh. Well, now I don’t like you so much anymore. I’ll speak to the sweeter of the two of you, then. The sapling.”
She turned her eyes on me. My heart jumped. She hadn’t even asked me for anything, but I knew that I would give it. Were the entities really this powerful? A goddess of love, too. I wasn’t into women myself, but that didn’t matter. I knew I could never resist Aphrodite. No one could. And an entity asking us for a favor? A reward was imminent, that was for sure.
“I promise, it won’t be a bother. It’ll be on your way, besides. Very convenient. I see that you’ve noticed this odd wilting of the forest creatures. Well, at least of the one you’ve slain. You can be certain that it doesn’t end there.”
“The Withering,” Sylvain said.
“Ah,” Aphrodite said, smiling at him once more. “The princeling speaks correctly. This Withering, as you call it.” She pointed where the Venus flytrap’s corpse had disintegrated into brown dust. “The corruption of my namesake offends me. Find the source of the Withering. Destroy it. Tell me what you learn and I shall reward you.”
Oh, and that was the other thing about entities. Fickle, petty, to the core. Especially the Greek pantheon, for some reason, more human than human at times, based on all the old stories.
