Page 58 of Prince of Flowers
I shook my head and grimaced. “Wow. You’re kind of an ass even when you’re trying to be nice. At least you’re consistent.”
Evander crossed his arms and shrugged. He sighed as he spoke again. “It’s in my nature. Look. Maybe I misjudged you. I thought you were just some daddy’s boy deliberately doing your absolute worst because you’d never have to work for anything. Nepotism, or something like it. Grand Summoner Wilde did pay for — oh, what was it again? A renovation of a wing of the old library?”
Of the entire library, actually. Every square foot of it, to preserve all knowledge to be found in the Wispwood, but also to ensure that people would speak Baylor Wilde’s name with pride. More the latter, I always thought.
I didn’t correct Evander. “Something like that,” I said. “I’ll tell you right now, though. I’m no daddy’s boy. I wasn’t his favorite child, and I was his only son. And yes, Father was very wealthy, but I’m not.”
The corner of Evander’s mouth curved downward, a frown in the making. And was that pity in his eyes? Why was I telling him all this?
“You know, it’s none of my business,” he said, still making it his business by talking. “But sometimes we have to find our own family. You have Bruna and Namirah. That’s something in itself. That’s more than what I have.”
Evander was right. I had my sisters at the Wispwood, and I’d never really paid attention to it, but all Evander really had was the company of his butterflies. Maybe keeping others at arm’s length with his arrogance was rooted in something deeper.
I looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the pity in my eyes in turn. I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was even about to say. Something comforting? But he raised his hand and stopped me.
“Don’t. Let me speak. I know we haven’t actually gotten our Crests yet, so who the hell am I to dispense advice, but — from one summoner to another? I don’t think you have much to worry about. He’ll answer. He’ll come when you call.”
How did he know? I watched his face out of the corner of my eye. “What have you heard about me and Sylvain, exactly?”
“Nothing. But I do know that the two of you have been inseparable since he showed up here, and now he’s nowhere in sight. Was it a disagreement and he’s holed up sulking in your room? None of my business. Or has he gone running from the castle by dark of night, but not before dipping a bottle in the Wispwell to collect some of its water? Who knows, really. Again, it’s none of my business.”
He swept his hand up and back through his hair, the gleam of the butterfly ring on his finger drawing my attention. And then I noticed it, the butterfly perched up on the wall behind him. It fluttered gently, its wings a ghostly blue to blend in with the light of the Wispwell.
The sneaky bastard. How many of these things did he have positioned around the academy?
“If you wanted to get me expelled,” I told him slowly, my fists clenched, “there are easier ways than planting security cameras all over the place.”
Evander scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I enjoy tormenting you, Wilde. I don’t want you gone. Even after I get my Crest, I might just want to stick around so I can torment you more. And so I can pick up the leftovers when this thing between you and your eidolon finally blows up.”
I grimaced. It was pity. It had to be. Why else would Evander even risk being seen talking to me, and this time without goading me into a fight?
“You’re more confusing and infuriating than he is,” I said through gritted teeth.
He raised a finger to correct me. “Don’t forget gorgeous, too. More gorgeous. I do believe he’ll come back, you know. And even if he doesn’t? Compel him with every ounce of arcane essence left in your body. Pull him forcibly out of the ether.”
“Summon him, you mean. The way I did when we first met. Right. I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, I guess.”
Evander wrinkled his nose like the mere thought of exchanging kindness between us repulsed him. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Wilde. We still aren’t friends, you know.”
Ah, there it was. Good old terrible Evander, back in full force.
”I’m just saying,” he continued. “That’s an eidolon you shouldn’t give up on so easily. If a man who looked like that walked up to me and asked for directions to a toilet, I’d get on my knees and point to my open mouth.”
I barked out in laughter, then clapped my hands over my mouth. Heads turned in the courtyard, drawn by my voice, no doubt, and the unnatural redness of my face.
“Evander! You can’t — you can’t say shit like that.”
“I can, and I will. Made you laugh, didn’t I? See? I’m not as terrible as you think I am.”
My chin began to itch, or maybe it was my body finding something to do to dispel the awkwardness. Maybe he wasn’t a complete garbage-fire of a person, after all.
“Oh, and Wilde? I suppose I should thank you for defending me when your eidolon attacked me with his sword.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Evander Skink, who rarely ever raised his voice, cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Tell your eidolon he can shove his sword inside me any old time he wants.”
