Page 61 of Prince of Flowers
“What, I — hey! No fair.” I didn’t ask how she’d guessed, but to be fair, wasn’t it kind of her fault that I’d brought a corrupted Blood of the Earth into the academy in the first place? Right? Maybe? A little?
I told her everything rapid-fire, making sure she knew that this wasn’t actually my fault, because how was I supposed to know, and could she please expedite the whole Summoner’s Crest thing and not expel me, thanks very much?
My words ran out at last. I stopped to catch my breath. She looked up at the headmasters, as if waiting for a signal, a response. None of the three moved. None spoke. Dr. Fang turned back to me, assessing my face with pursed lips.
“Fine. We believe you. For now.”
We?
Dr. Fang picked up the stone, let it lay flat on her palm. A burst of blue light erupted from her hand, spiring upward. I gasped. It reminded me of Allegra’s Lament, only channeled without a grimoire, fired straight out of her skin. Man, if only I could do that, be as cool as Euclidea. Maybe some day.
“There, it’s cleansed,” she said, announcing it for the benefit of the courtyard, holding up the gemstone. “No more of this nonsense. I’d like to see it make a comeback from that.”
“Then it’s over,” Sylvain said.
I heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s finally over.”
He bumped against me with his shoulder, attempting a small smile. Without words he reached for my hand, squeezed tight. My doubts rushed out through the palms of my hands, the soles of my feet, unimportant. Sylvain answered. He came back, just like he promised.
I smiled, squeezed his hand back, harder. It didn’t matter that he was the eidolon, that I was the summoner. He was the man who’d come running when I called, leapt through time and space to fight at my side.
He could be a prince of summer, of autumn, or a prince of flowers. I didn’t mind either way.
I just knew that he was my prince.
24
I biton my lower lip as I stared at the Crest, trying to stop myself from grinning like a loon. I did it. I threw myself onto my bed, kicked my legs into the air, and reached for a pillow to stifle my excited screaming. I finally did it.
Dr. Fang and Headmaster Cornelius had given it to me together, each expressing congratulations in their very individual ways. Dr. Fang once again told me to keep the Blood of the Earth, assuring me that it had been cleansed, no longer a threat.
She also, once again, told me to buy myself something nice. “Maybe a Nintendo Switch.” Like I didn’t have one already. The Blood of the Earth sat in my bedroom under a glass jar, away from my plants, and also away from my Nintendo Switch. You know, just in case.
Headmaster Cornelius had offered me something else: a glossy, holographic sticker of a unicorn riding a rainbow. “May it bring you luck, and power,” he said, winking as he pressed it into my hand. I considered putting it on one of the grimoire’s pages — Father would have a conniption — but what if it served some other purpose? You never really knew with Cornelius Butterworth.
And then there was the grand prize. The Summoner’s Crest resembled a medallion more than anything, shiny and brass, an intricate rosette. Two nested uppercase Ws were hidden among the trees depicted on the Crest, forming their trunks.
I liked how the Wispwood was very cool about letting us pick how to wear them, too. I could pin mine to my chest, hang it on a chain around my neck, even affix it to the cover of the Wilde grimoire. The point was to show, at a glance, that the bearers of the Crests were Wispwood alumni.
Alumni. I was one of them. Me, an alumnus. I’d officially finished my studies.
“Hell, yes,” I shouted at the ceiling of my bedroom. “Hell. Yes.”
Though I wasn’t in any real rush to move out. Neither was my roommate, apparently, who was in the shower, presumably getting all steamy and sexy even as he cleaned himself up. I hoped he didn’t hear all my yelling, even though I knew he was just as happy for me.
“Something to celebrate, sapling?”
I yelped and jerked away from the side of the bed, pulling my feet up on the mattress like I was worried a monster would catch me by the toe. There she was, sitting on the edge of a potted plant, kicking her little legs. A tiny version of the goddess Aphrodite. I squinted at her.
“Respectfully, Aphrodite — this is a very weird way to come and see me.”
“Oh, this?” She waved a hand along her body, presenting her legs, the swirls of her hair, little pieces of jewelry tinkling as she moved. “This is just an avatar. A representation of my essence, sent to speak with you. Meet Tiny Aphrodite.”
I curled my lips and grumbled under my breath.
“Oh, come now, sapling. Are you still sour about our talk from that one night? What happened to all the sweetness? I only wanted to tell you. I still owe you a little present for all that you’ve learned about the Withering.”
“Nothing you don’t know already,” I said. “I’m sure you know about what happened in the courtyard, too.”
