Page 60 of Heir of Autumn
“Well, don’t get too used to it.” Satchel chuckled and clapped him on the back. “The first one’s free, a gift from me.”
Cutler gathered him up in a huge hug. I didn’t think I could feel any warmer or gooier. I grinned. “Is this the business you’ve been thinking of running, Satchel?”
“That’s right,” he said, hands on his hips. “Tiny people deserve to dress in nice clothes, too. There’s a whole horde of them who might be interested, right here in the castle. And you get to fund the entire enterprise, Locke.”
I frowned. “I do?”
Satchel rubbed his fingers together. “Your familiar’s going to need some funding.”
“This is wonderful,” Sylvain said, smiling as he draped his arm over my shoulder.
“No, this is blackmail,” I protested.
Satchel scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Details, semantics, all stuff we can work out later. For now, take a picture of me and my first and favorite client, won’t you?”
I patted at my pockets for my phone, grumbling under my breath. But Satchel looked so damn happy, and Cutler was constantly on the brink of spilling happy tears, especially when he pulled the vest on for the first time.
“Oh, it fits so well,” he blubbered. Satchel clapped him on the back again, smiling.
If even the smallest among us could make peace, find enough in common among themselves to foster friendship and kindness, then surely we could do the same.
Meeting Sylvain’s family had been challenging, terrifying, yet gratifying all at once. But knowing we had allies on the other side of the membrane between worlds — those who shared common troubles and longed for common solutions — made all the difference. Somehow, some way, perhaps we would find a permanent cure for the Withering, make it disappear altogether.
Until then, we could take our cues from the smallest among us.
“Smile,” I said, mashing the camera button, taking dozens of pictures of my familiar, his friend, and his handiwork.
“Smile,” my prince commanded, softly, sweetly, rewarding me with a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of my hand. And I gladly obeyed, more than happy to dwell within the present, to find the joys in the littler things, in the presence of our littlest friends.
Together, I thought, watching as Cutler stomped down the table, modeling his new vest like he was walking a Paris runway. Together, as Satchel clapped and whooped, yelling his encouragement, proud of his project.
“Together,” Sylvain whispered in my ear, sensing my thoughts and anxieties, lending me his strength, my eidolon, my lover, my friend.
As cryptic and cruel as she could be, Aphrodite was right. Summoning was simply the magic of relationships, the craft of forging bonds through friendship, and loyalty, and respect.
Hearing my little family’s collective laughter, watching my little forest grow, I understood a new lesson. There, in the soft warmth of my bedchambers, I unlocked knowledge that even the lessons of the grandest of summoners could never, ever reveal to me — even the shade of my lost father.
The art of summoning, at the end of all things, was really about love.
