Page 14 of Prince of Flowers
Gods, I was sick of it. I’d always known that I was a failure, how often it was impressed upon me by teachers, even by other students. Evander Skink of all people wouldn’t shut up about it. Couldn’t this be my one real opportunity to prove myself competent? Couldn’t I make this my chance to show that I wasn’t an embarrassment to the Wilde name?
And if I didn’t get my Crest yet again this year, was I really going to be next year’s twenty-five-year-old super senior still clinging like a barnacle to the Wispwood? A weed, more like. Or a parasite, still hoping against hope that I would find a contract with an eidolon gracious enough to take pity on me.
Then to add insult to injury: no inheritance whatsoever. Farewell, Baylor Wilde’s fortune, whatever it was he kept in that vault.
I glanced out at the balcony again. There was something calming about the steady rise and fall of Sylvain’s chest as he dozed.
“Maybe I can make this work,” I muttered.
“Maybe,” Dr. Fang said. “But pray, don’t get too distracted now, Lochlann. This is about securing your Crest, not going on a hot date.”
I scowled up at her, my cheeks burning hot. She was smirking. Actually smirking. The nerve. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said, hugging the grimoire closer for comfort, using it as a shield.
She sighed as she massaged her temples. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but yes. This may yet be your best shot at earning your Crest.” Dr. Fang gestured toward the balcony. “Call him in, Lochlann. It’s time I assigned the two of you your quest.”
6
As a professor in my discipline— as a superior, my mentor — Euclidea had the power to issue challenges and tests. They served the same function as exams in any regular school, though the requirements could be somewhat more extreme.
Sylvain shut the door to the balcony and took his place at Dr. Fang’s desk again. The new shirt he’d crafted out of a fresh batch of leaves was almost similar to the last one, cut off at the sleeves. But even the sight of his bared arms and taut biceps couldn’t get me to relax.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited for Dr. Fang to continue, my breath streaming in and out of my nostrils. She rested her elbows on her desk, her hands clasped, fingers steepled.
“Now, Sylvain. It appears that you and Lochlann here will be working together for the foreseeable future. If there are no objections, then I would like to lay out a task for the two of you to accomplish. Here at the Wispwood, a summoner is only officially recognized as a summoner upon completion of an assigned quest. Are you willing to cooperate with Lochlann Wilde, son of the legendary Grand Summoner Baylor Wilde for the length of this journey?”
I cringed, wishing she hadn’t added that last part about Father. Sylvain smirked, his teeth and the curve of his eyebrow sharp as he assessed me out of the corner of his eye.
“How bad could it be? Here’s to new experiences. I’ll try anything once.”
I said nothing, only reminding myself that perhaps I should be more grateful. I’d completely lucked out. Here was this otherworldly being, brimming with so much power and potential that I could feel it radiate from his skin even as he sat beside me.
Yes, Dr. Fang was right. We hadn’t seen him do much more than create pretty clothes out of a pile of leaves. But there was something more to him. I knew it in my bones. I could sense it, right there in her office, the way I could sense it on the wind.
I would rather cut my tongue off than confess it, but Sylvain could be doing whatever it was that fae princes did in their spare time instead of deigning to help me.
This was a rare opportunity, something I needed to take advantage of. Butter him up and massage his ego just enough to get him to work with me, refine our bond as summoner and eidolon. And once I secured my Crest, well, then I could decide where to go from there.
“And you have no reservations about this.” I lowered my head as I stared at Dr. Fang, as if a single look could encapsulate everything we’d discussed while Sylvain was out on the balcony.
“None whatsoever.”
“Perhaps it’s not an appropriate time to ask,” Sylvain said, “but you humans are awfully trusting of me. You say you have your suspicions about my kind, yet you welcome me with open arms. Why?”
Dr. Fang smiled the way a cat smiles at a cornered mouse. “We stand to mutually benefit from learning of each other’s capabilities, don’t you think? And the laws of the pact that bind you to Lochlann here prevent you from doing true harm to the students, or the academy itself. You’re certainly free to try, but unless Lochlann himself turns you against us, there’s quite little risk to the Wispwood, really. Quite little. Yes.”
Sylvain leaned forward like he was still negotiating, like he’d forgotten how he was already bound by the pact’s terms. “And theoretically, if Lochlann were to turn me against you, whatever that means — what would be the repercussions?”
“Oh, expulsion, certainly. Perhaps extermination as well. Yes.” Dr. Fang’s grin sent chills running up my spine. “Still, for your own safety, Sylvain, I’d caution you to keep your identity secret. Oh, and I’m sorry, extermination is meant for vermin. I must have been thinking of execution.”
I resisted the urge to dig my fingernails into the Wilde grimoire. The cover was dinged enough already. “Got it. Vermin. Execution. Can we please get this quest stuff out of the way? The suspense is killing me.”
“Yes, yes. Very well. Now, normally, the objective of a summoner’s quest is to find a new eidolon, using all they’ve learned to overcome the obstacles on their journey. But Lochlann here seems to have skipped right to the finish line.”
I didn’t know whether to feel smug or offended.
“And so the task must be something that still presents a challenge for you both. I require some Blood of the Earth for my research.”
“Sounds grim,” Sylvain said, his forehead wrinkled.
