Page 33 of Prince of Flowers
“It was worth a try,” Sylvain snarled. “At least we made an effort. At least it’s better than you bolting at the first sign of danger, like a coward.”
The flytrap snapped at the air with its enormous teeth. I backed away a couple of steps, trying to match its pace. The thing wasn’t a fast mover, sure — but what if it was building up for a sudden lunge? And then what would we be? Lunch. That’s what.
I had to act quick. I rounded on Sylvain again.
“I pick my battles, unlike you: a big, boisterous idiot who rushes into fights headlong. Remember, you would have killed Evander if I hadn’t stepped in and saved him with my book. And then where would you be? Cast out of the Wispwood, if not slain by the headmasters outright.“
Sylvain threw his head back and scoffed. “Oh, I would love to see your precious headmasters try. They would have thrown you out first. What’s the word you use for it? Expelled? In fact, I’m surprised they’ve kept you around so long considering your utter inability to perform in absolutely any capacity. Was that really the best you could do?”
I gestured up and down his body. “And this was the best that you could do. You’re supposed to be my eidolon. What the hell was that? A puff of leaves?”
Too late I wondered if I could have empowered the leaves he’d sent out toward the flytrap. Whoops. But would it have made any difference? In truth, I wanted to see how Sylvain would function in a genuinely dangerous situation. Dr. Fang lesson one hundred and something or other: assessing your eidolon.
But Sylvain could be useful in other ways.
The flytrap was still approaching, its head cocked questioningly, like it was wondering why we weren’t desperately trying to escape like before. Poor Hungry Henry probably wasn’t accustomed to his food standing around and yelling, arguing with their dicks in their hands.
“You’re the summoner,” Sylvain said. “I’m the eidolon. And so this is your fault.”
I scoped out the Venus flytrap. Only a few dozen feet away now, with Sylvain standing between us, his back toward it. Good enough. I could work this angle. I sucked in a huge breath of air, making myself bigger, gearing up for the final blow.
“This is hardly my fault.” I shoved Sylvain in the chest, and immediately told myself to stop thinking about his chest. “You’re clearly the weakest link here. Perhaps you should go crawling back to the Verdance where you belong, big fish in a small pond.”
It was a gamble, but it paid off. Sylvain’s anger got the best of him, as expected, his eyes glowing from rage, his muscles tightening, the vein in his forehead bulging.
“Little human. I’ve had just about enough of you ordering me around like I’m some common servant. I am a prince of the Summer Court. And you are nothing but a — ”
And just as expected, there came his hand again, except this time it wasn’t a jab from his finger. Sylvain shoved me back, the heel of his palm slamming against my shoulder. The Pact of the Unknown took over, a flash of white blazing between us as the magic repelled him.
Thunder cracked. Sylvain catapulted away, fired by an invisible slingshot. I muttered a soft apology, but it had to be done. He shouted as he flew through the air, his trajectory taking him straight toward the mouth of a very hungry carnivorous plant.
Sylvain’s instincts kicked in, the great warrior that he was. He twisted around to face his adversary, sword at the ready, still screaming, both in anger and terror.
I reached out with my hand, called from deep within my soul, and enrobed him in a shield of arcane essence. His skin sparkled with silvery-gold light as my magic took effect. My breath came ragged as I watched, waited for Sylvain to make contact. A human cannonball. Well, no. A fae one, rather.
The flytrap opened its mouth.
A grotesque squelching echoed throughout the woods. Sylvain tore through the back of the monster’s mouth in a single blow, his strength augmented by my magic.
The creature screamed, pale green slime oozing out of the new hole in its head. It wavered in the air, swaying from side to side, tendrils convulsing. At last it stopped its shrieking and collapsed to the ground. The earth shuddered from the weight of its corpse.
My heart raced. Surely something out there must have heard the flytrap’s dying screeches, if not felt the vibration of its fall. But more importantly, where was Sylvain?
A tree snapped. Then another. Uh-oh. Two were enough to slow down the speed of his flight. He smashed into a third one full bore, the tree ending his streak by staying firmly rooted in place. I winced when I heard another crack. A branch breaking overhead, or was that one of his bones?
Oh no. I murdered him. Oh no. Oh fuck, oh no. I sprinted toward the broken tree, making sure to circumvent the dead carnivorous plant-monster still flopped over on the ground. You never knew with these things.
Sylvain bellowed, clutching his shoulder. “Ow. Help.”
I rushed to his side, falling over myself.
“Not you,” he yelled. “Anyone else, help. Save me from this traitorous bastard.”
”Will you keep it down?” I hissed, trying to get him to settle. “You’ll alert something else to come and kill us. Something worse. We’re already spent.”
“Fuck,” Sylvain cried, his head thumping against the tree trunk, so hard that the branches shuddered.
I gulped, my mouth parched from the fight and the panic, but also out of the weird thrill of hearing him curse. Why did it sound twice as obscene? And somehow sexy? Gods, I needed to stop.
