Page 11 of Bonds of Blood
But I’d argue that my father, like most mages, had only become more powerful with age. This was his new prime, this second copy that stood before me in the flesh, his older version. The crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deepened as he squinted at the medallion hanging around my neck.
Alister Brittle nodded, the head librarian of the Wispwood and our relatively newfound friend. “That is indeed correct, Grand Summoner Baylor. Part of it, of course, is your son’s elemental nature. We have not found much that documents such a phenomenon, but the awakening of your good wife and your arrival have certainly shed more light on the matter.”
“The medallion is merely a fragment of the puzzle,” said the rasping voice of Headmaster Shivers. “For the moment, we believe that it is Lochlann’s elemental heritage that grants him control over other elemental creatures.”
“Fascinating,” said Father. “Absolutely fascinating. And you say that this is a gift from a goddess?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Belladonna Praxis replied in my stead. “Bestowed by the goddess Aphrodite, yes. And we have repeatedly warned young Lochlann here that such a gift is not to be trifled with. Who can say whether the goddess truly meant it as a boon or a bane? Based on our prior conversations, I believe Mr. Wilde is well aware that his destruction shall be the consequence should this strange artifact of his — misbehave.”
Cornelius Butterworth closed his eyes, folded his hands behind his back, and nodded solemnly. “Oh, I agree. A most prudent decision.”
He opened one eye and winked at me. Again, I opened my mouth to protest. But Dr. Euclidea Fang beat me to it.
“I don’t think there’s much to worry about, Grand Summoner Baylor. As Lochlann’s mentor and professor, I am pleased to report that he is also skilled in the more traditional methods of the art of summoning. He contracted a fae prince after all, among other species of creatures.”
“And a fine summoner he shall be.” Father clapped me hard across the back with one hand, the entire conversation playing out with barely any input from me, as if I wasn’t standing right there.
But that was fine. I could tell that the headmasters — and Dr. Fang, most of all — were having fun at my expense. This was a precious moment of levity with my father, his visit like icing on the many-layered cake of happy things that had recently happened in my life. I fully intended to milk it for all it was worth.
“Why, just the other day — isn’t that right, Lochlann? We went ranging through the Oriel of Earth, then had a brief jaunt in the Oriel of Water. Really does bring back memories of my time as a student.”
Headmaster Cornelius tutted and shook his head. “We couldn’t keep you out of the Spire of Radiance if we tried. I’ll have you know, Lochlann. Young Baylor Wilde was a different monster entirely.”
I chuckled, my hand absently fingering the grooves on my medallion. That was another thing I’d never given any thought, the reality that the headmasters must have seen Father through his years at the academy. Maybe I really did resent him that much, never once considering his youth, only assuming that he catapulted his way through a successful academic career all while being an irrepressible wild child. The golden boy and the bad boy, both at once.
“One would argue that the Wispwell is the greatest attraction at the academy,” said Headmaster Shivers. “And who would I be to speak ill of my parent? But ask Baylor Wilde where he spent so much of his free time in his younger days.”
“I don’t have to,” I said, finally pleased for the chance to interject. “Up in the Spire of Radiance. Turns out he was as curious about the oriels as I was.”
Another strong clap on my back. Father’s hands were as big as hams. I thought I was going to lose some teeth.
“Like father, like son, hey, Lochlann? With all due respect, Headmaster Shivers, the Wispwell has its own allure. But the true power of the Wispwood, in my humblest opinion, lies in the four oriels.”
A familiar sweep of hair followed by a delightfully familiar laugh heralded the sudden arrival of one Marina Wilde. Mom looped her arm around Father’s, poking at his ribs playfully. “And I would argue, dear husband, that the Wispwell is the very best thing about the Wispwood. It’s the main reason for my continued existence, after all.”
“I’ll grant you that, my love. Are you here to tour the premises as well?”
Mom shook her head, giving Mr. Brittle her sweetest smile. “Alister here has been kind enough to show me around already. Have you been satisfied by your tour? This little trip of yours to inspect the one place in all the Wispwood that deserved so much of your donated wealth?”
A rare bashful expression crept along Father’s face, his eyes downcast. “Mr. Brittle has always been very kind to me. The library was a safe place for me to gather my thoughts, to find myself in silence. I can only hope that it has served similarly as a haven for other students over the years.”
“That it has, Baylor,” the librarian said, gripping his arm, smiling gratefully. “I don’t think you’ll ever know how much you’ve helped.”
I realized then that everyone who knew Father growing up — the headmasters, the faculty, hell, even the head librarian — had refrained from speaking to me about him too much out of respect for my feelings. Perhaps they guessed that I’d respond with anger or bitterness, and they were probably right. All these years they’d been doing me a kindness.
“Well,” Mom said, peeling herself away from Father with a theatric huff. “I think Baylor can best help by taking down that dreadful portrait of his. Honestly, darling, it’s so massive and obnoxious.”
Dr. Fang and the headmasters chuckled to themselves. Father sputtered as he tried to form a response. Some things didn’t change after all, but that was fine. He’d done so much for everyone already, or so Alister said. They could keep one scary portrait up on the wall.
Mom reached for Alister Brittle’s elbow, so smoothly linking arms with one partner and the next that she could have been dancing a waltz. “Alister, didn’t you say you had something to show me? Come, let’s have a look.”
The head librarian shuffled away with my mother on his arm. They appeared to be headed toward a table at the back of the main hall, one where Sylvain, Satchel, and Ember were seated. I cocked an eyebrow, confused. Was I supposed to be there, too? Why wasn’t I invited?
“Everyone,” I said, awkwardly bowing my head at my academic superiors, at my father. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Belladonna Praxis waved her hand. “Of course, Lochlann. Go about your business. Your father expressed interest in perusing some old manuscripts. We’ll be inspecting them in that room over there.”
I half-followed as she pointed to one of the private rooms distributed throughout the library, the kind meant for private study or examinations. But a larger part of me was far more curious about following Alister and my mother over to the table where my friends were sitting and potentially excluding me from something juicy and interesting.
