Page 59 of Prince of Flowers
He flipped his hair and laughed as my ears burned, relishing my embarrassment. A few steps more and he was gone, flittering away like one of his butterflies. I wasn’t foolish enough to pretend that Evander Skink and I had somehow become friends. But I did know that he’d always be an evil twink.
I hiked my backpack up on my shoulders, prepared to go — well, somewhere, anywhere. Up the stairs, or out into the forest? A lovelorn fool in search of his Prince Not-So-Charming.
But I noticed the odd light emanating from the courtyard, a rich green, the color of deepest forest. I turned toward the Wispwell, the light swinging, changing direction with me as I moved. My heart clenched.
That glow. It was coming from inside my backpack.
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I rummaged through my backpack,my heart pounding. It had to be that tiny bastard. Grimoire, flask of water, mini deodorant. Where the hell was it? The glow should have made it simple to find, except that my whole backpack was glowing. I upended the entire mess onto the floor in frustration.
The Blood of the Earth rolled out like a marble, like it had only been stuck in my backpack’s flap the entire time. Little asshole. I had no idea what was going on, but the stone’s sinister radiance, the black veins spidering across its surface couldn’t be a sign of anything good. I lifted my leg, ready to stomp and shatter it to pieces.
A pulse of energy flashed from the stone, sending me flying halfway across the courtyard. I rolled with the impact, my cloak saving me from the worst of it, but I still scraped my arm, my shoulder. Wow. Now I knew how Sylvain felt each time he violated the pact.
The courtyard was filling with students and faculty, faces peering from the top levels bathed in green as they rubbernecked in confusion. I dove straight for my grimoire, my hands trembling as I fumbled through the pages. It flipped itself open for me. Yes, perfect. Good boy.
My lips flew through the incantation, my breath coming in ragged spurts as I recited the words faster than ever. I had to warn everyone, put the academy on high alert. I swept my arm out, the magic launching out of my body as little portals blinked open all around me.
Doves flew up to every level of the Wispwood, flapping and cooing. Old Man pawed at the ground, lifted his grizzled muzzle to the ceiling, and howled loud enough to reach the Spire of Radiance. And Scruffles — well, Scruffles did his thing, yowling as he tore up the stairs, scratching at classroom doors.
We needed everyone to be ready, or at the very least aware of this thing in the courtyard that was slowly absorbing the nearby trees. Plenty of material for it to work with, too, all the oaks and willows in the courtyard, the bushes on the ground floor, the planters higher up.
Disparate bits of plant matter drifted together, leaf and branch and root, the gem at their core. I recognized the nascent shape of the guardian from the Oriel of Earth, but this was an awful mockery of the majestic creature, its features twisted, its branches sharp, the leaves blackened and browned. It was still no taller than a man, but if this bizarre magnetism kept up —
Gods, Sylvain was right all along. If I’d known about his heritage I would have accused him outright. The Withering, and then the strange perversion of the guardian? What was causing all this?
At least my budget warning system had worked well enough to alert my two closest friends in the Wispwood. And Evander, who was re-entering the courtyard just as Bruna and Namirah were rushing down the stairs.
“Gods above and below,” Namirah breathed, eyes focused on the ever-growing guardian. “What is that thing?”
“Oriel of Earth guardian,” I said. “No time to explain, but it’s corrupted.”
Bruna was already hurriedly searching through the potions clipped to her belt. Some were unlabeled. Several were similar colors.
“Oh no, oh no. I can’t remember which one. Namirah, don’t look at me like that. I was in a hurry and this freaky cat was trying to claw its way into my office and — oh, crap.”
Namirah slammed the two of us out of the way as the guardian shot forth its horrible branches, its evil wood creaking with the smallest movement, a product of malignant growth. In the same motion she transformed into a hawk, spiraled around the courtyard, building speed.
I helped Bruna off the floor, her eyes still on the two identical potions in her hands. Namirah’s cry pierced the courtyard as she dove straight for the corrupted guardian’s face — and for the gemstone embedded in its forehead. I should have thought of that.
Namirah’s beak and talons glinted like metal, empowered by her magic. She scratched and clawed at the guardian’s face, but to no effect. The guardian swatted and raked at the air, my heart lurching each time its barbed branches nearly connected with Namirah’s body.
“We have to do something,” I muttered, my mind racing. None of my eidolons could do jack squat against this thing. If Namirah and her magic couldn’t scratch its bark, what hope did Scruffles have, even with a boost from my essence?
That was it. Allegra’s Lament. I wouldn’t have enough essence on my own to perform such a powerful spell again, but with one of Bruna’s potions, I had a shot. Except she was double, triple-chugging potions, desperately looking for something that would help in the fight.
“Yes, that’s the one,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, belching as she smashed a phial against the floor like a frat boy smashes a beer bottle. “That hit the spot.”
She charged the guardian, physically unchanged on the outside, but made monstrously powerful from within by one of the many, many potions she’d poured down her throat. Bruna tackled the creature to the ground, its branches creaking as it crashed against the stone. But its body was still stretching, growing.
From around the courtyard the students of the Wispwood contributed their magics, hurling elemental spells. Whatever combination of potions Bruna consumed had made her both stronger and tougher. The guardian screeched each time magic struck its body, but Bruna just shrugged off the spells, keeping the creature pinned to the ground.
And then came the convulsions.
“Oh no,” she stammered, breaking away as the guardian slipped from her stranglehold. “Oh crap, oh fuck.”
She scrambled for the edge of the courtyard, her hair shortening and lengthening, her face warping before my eyes. I rushed to help her, horrified, but she shooed me away.
