Page 31 of Prince of Flowers
They owed their survival to the dimension’s high concentration of elemental earth, the ground beneath us rich in nutrients. A student could observe many of the world’s fruit and flowers on a casual jaunt around the Oriel of Earth, provided they didn’t get eviscerated by the locals first. If we were lucky, or unlucky, depending on how he’d react to the smell, maybe we would even find a rafflesia for Sylvain to sniff.
But with the flora, of course, came the fauna.
“Hold on,” Sylvain muttered, his ears pricking. “Do you hear that?”
I scanned the greenery surrounding us. Birds, somewhere far, and a soft breeze. But yes — there it was. More footsteps trudging over the forest floor. They weren’t trying to be subtle, either. I didn’t like the implications. That normally meant the approach of something that didn’t need stealth or sneaking to gain the upper hand.
“On your guard, Sylvain,” I said, a hand on his shoulder. “Something dangerous is coming.”
“A brilliant deduction, oh wise student of the Wispwood.”
“Hey. I’m only trying to be helpful.”
He pulled the hooded vest off his body in a single motion. Smooth, like he’d taken his clothes off in a hurry hundreds of times before. My cock twitched. Why was that so fucking sexy? He shoved it in my hand without even giving me a second look. Still warm from clinging so tightly to his body.
A little sweaty, too.
I fought the impulse to stick the bunched-up jersey in my face and take a deep, long sniff. My hand shook as I stuffed it into my leather backpack instead, an extremely inappropriate part of my brain explaining to me that we were only saving it for later. I reached for the Wilde grimoire and bit on my lower lip, praying for the sudden sharp pain to distract me from inconvenient horniness.
Success. I balanced the tome in my hand, prepared to charge it with power or summon a flock of something nasty to really fuck our enemies up. Okay, a flock of doves. Sylvain swept his hand to the side, leaves emanating from the forest, gathering on his torso, arranging themselves into a breastplate of scale armor. Damn. That would always look impressive to me, no matter how many times I saw it. It would always look pretty sexy, too.
Fuck. I needed to focus. Get it together.
The foliage ahead of us rustled, branches snapping. The things were fast approaching, footsteps almost thundering now. Was it a pair of something humanoid? No, too many legs. A whole squad of them, then. A tree collapsed. Both Sylvain and I backed up, exchanging alarmed glances. This was bad. More leaves streamed toward his hand, melding into the shape of a sword. He brandished his blade. Another tree fell, the ground reverberating.
“I think you’re going to want a bigger sword,” I said.
Sylvain opened his mouth to snipe back, then stopped when the source of our apprehension stepped out of the woods. Ah. Of course. Because something humanoid would have been too easy. It wasn’t a whole swarm of them, either.
It was a colossal plant, its enormous maw lined with jagged spines. Sharp as teeth, and each one as long and thick as Sylvain’s sword. Wriggling under its heaving bulk were its many legs, oversized tendrils that afforded the monster freedom of movement. Over a dozen thick, heavy vines slammed into the ground in succession as it dragged itself across the grass.
Definitely not a rafflesia.
Sylvain’s sword hand fell to his side. He looked at me in disbelief. “This has to be some kind of awful joke.”
I blinked. “Can you control it?”
He whipped his finger toward the monstrosity and frowned. “That thing has a mind of its own. I can manipulate leaves and petals, not an entire organism. What makes you think I could possibly — ”
The creature opened its tremendous mouth and roared.
Venus flytraps were native to the Carolinas, accustomed to the swamps where they could thrive on a diet of delicious bugs. As for this big boy? A specimen must have ended up in the Oriel of Earth somehow, its growth supercharged by the otherworldly fertility of the dimension’s dirt.
Had it developed an appetite for larger, meatier things instead of insects? Possibly. Birds, rabbits, whatever an overgrown carnivorous plant would enjoy munching on. Were we next on the menu?
Oh, yes. Most definitely.
“Run!” I shouted, turning tail and fleeing for my life.
“What? Locke. Lochlann! You coward. Get back here right this — ”
The fee-fi-fo-flytrap came thundering forward. I didn’t bother checking over my shoulder to look, knowing it was closing in on us. Slower than I’d expected, honestly, those cumbersome legs making it more ungainly than mobile. That was a good thing. The more distance between me and its teeth, the better.
Sylvain raced to catch up with me, huffing and puffing as he threw me one of his lovely scowls.
“Why are you running?”
I kept my eyes ahead. “Why are you? I’m not getting eaten before I even get my Crest.”
