Blossom Storm

“Mari!” The voice called her but she barely noticed. She had fallen asleep in the flower gardens.

“Mari!” They called again, pulling her out of her dream. She was dreaming she was dancing among marigold flowers. In her dream, the flowers glided through the air on an unseen wind.

“Princess Marigold, I know you're out here!” She reluctantly sat up and looked toward the castle to see the person calling her name. It was her teacher, Mrs. Felda. Mrs. Felda practically raised Mari since she was old enough to learn.

Marigolds were Mari's favorite flower. Not only because they were her namesake, or because they matcher her red hair with natural golden highlights. She always felt something when she was among them. Something deep inside that she couldn't explain. Like the flowers were reaching out to her, and she to them, on a spiritual level. It was almost magical. She knew it wasn't, magic only existed in stories, but she liked to pretend she had a connection to the marigolds in the castle gardens.

Mari stood and waved with a smile, “Coming, Mrs. Felda!”

“Honestly child, how will we ever make a proper woman out of you if you sleep all the time?” Mrs. Felda scolder her, her hands on her hips.

Mari shrugged as she pushed past the woman into the castle corridor.

“Your father expects me to have you ready for suitors come your birthday,” Mrs. Felda continued scolding Mari as they made their way to the dining hall. It was time for etiquette practice. Mari's least favorite of all the “proper ladylike” things she was to have perfected in two weeks when she turned eighteen and was expected to greet men who would try to win her father, the king's, heart, not hers. She would have barely any say in who she was to wed.

Marriage was far from her mind. Mari wanted adventures like those she'd read about. Like the Knight in Golden armor who slew the dragons in the fantastical land of Grenagish. Or the Fairy Queen who brought peace to her land by casting a calming spell on the wolves who plagued her kingdom. Or even like the strange book she found in her father's personal library about the red-haired boy who saved his kingdom from an impending threat. In the story the boy just comes of age when he discovers a threat to the lives of his people, he turns the sky golden to warn them all of the threat. They all love and revere him for it and he becomes their king.

Alas, she was doomed to be married off to some prince in a political match to strengthen her fathers standing among the other kingdoms.

She barely knew her older brother George. They almost never saw each other despite living in the same castle. He was learning how to fight, speak diplomatically, negotiate, and other things a king would need to know. She knew only that he was arrogant in the extreme, and she didn't much like him.

Mary had taught herself in secret how to read. She had to be careful not to get caught. The consequences of a woman learning to read were usually the loss of her eyes to a knife blade. Despite the obvious severity of the consequences, Mari loved reading about adventures.

Even more dangerous, she would watch the soldiers sparring, then sneak off to practice the techniques she saw. Her secret life was the only life that Mari really enjoyed. The rest, like the etiquette lesson she was currently suffering through, she loathed. When she wasn't learning how to be ladylike with Mrs. Felda, she was spending time among the people, who for their part either genuinely loved her, or did an excellent job pretending to.

Mari couldn't get the story of the boy and golden sky out of her head. The images her imagination put into her head thinking about a golden sky was too exciting. She wanted to know more, the story seemed unfinished. By this point in her life, Mari was used to living dangerously, so she decided to take a risk and ask.

“Mrs. Felda?” Mari asked, folding her napkin in a ladylike manner, “I heard some castle guards speaking of the story they'd heard. I was hoping you knew more about the story.”

Mrs. Felda sighed, “what story?”

She was rarely formal with the princess unless they were in public, which was about the only thing about her non-secret life that Mari enjoyed.

Mari twisted her hands together nervously, “it was about a boy who turns the sky golden to save his people.” The look on Mrs. Felda's face told Mari that she knew the story.

“Well those soldiers were careless to be speaking of it so publicly,” Mrs. Felda thought for a moment tapping her chin with one finger, “Few people know that story. Was it the king's guards you overheard?”

Mari nodded convincingly.

“Well...it is believed to be a prophecy. Since red hair is so rare, save you and the prince, some speculate the story is about your brother.”

Mari had the same thought. She just couldn't bring herself to believe someone so arrogant would ever be loved and revered by his people.

“Now,” Mrs. Felda interrupted Mari's thoughts, “no more of this, you shouldn't know about it. Back to your studies, your birthday is coming fast.”

For the next two weeks, Mari went numbly through the motions. She barely had any time to do the secret dangerous things she loved to do. Before she knew it she was sitting in the throne room as her suitors filed in bowing gracefully to the royal family, kissing her hand ever so gentlemanlike.

The days of meeting and dining with boring overconfident suitors, with Mari barely an afterthought as they each tried to win over her father with promises of alliances and gold and jewels, dragged by. She knew her kingdom was one of the richer kingdoms in the land, but she never thought this many other kingdoms wanted a piece of it.

On the tenth day of all this nonsense, Mari got a break. One of her suitors, a brutish-looking man more her father's age, was to take the king and the prince out for a hunt. This meant Mari was allowed to have the day for herself.

While she loved the castle gardens, they were nothing compared to the wild marigold fields she had discovered. The problem was that they were a few hours away on horseback, so she was rarely able to visit them. After a quick breakfast, Mari put on her riding dress, a proper princess is always in a dress you see and headed out.

Her horse, Glenda, was happy to run and seemed to be enjoying the journey as much as Mari. She was having so much fun that the journey seemed far shorter than it actually was. When she crested the familiar hill and saw the marigold field it took her breath away. It stretched as far as the eye could see, looking like nothing less than a landscape painted by the gods.

She picketed Glenda loosely on a low branch of a tree at the base of the hill and walked among her namesake flowers, reveling in the euphoric connection she had with the flowers. The feeling was different today. She could almost sense every flower and every breath of the wind through them.

She had been walking and admiring the flowers when she suddenly realized she was near the edge of a forest. She hadn't realized how far she had wandered and began to turn back when she heard the sound of hounds and horses coming toward her. From where she was she could see her father and brother's hunting party trundling through the field chasing some unseen game.

“Great, trample my happy place,” She said sarcastically to herself ducking down, not wanting to be seen.

They were chasing something toward the forest. By their heading, they would be in earshot of Mari, but they weren't close enough to see her especially with her hair blending in with the flowers.

Mari couldn't see the hounds, but she could see the flowers bending under them as they gave chase. As the hounds entered the nearby forest, they grew furious at something, yelped, and become silent.

Mari's heart was pounding. The hunting party came to a hurried stop at the edge of the forest. A large group of gruff-looking soldiers popped up from their hiding place among the trees and flowers, quickly slaughtering the king's guard. They all wore the same colors as the suitor. The only men left alive were her father, her brother, and the suitor.

Mari was sweating now, her heart pounding like never before. She looked around for a means of escape. Finally, she noticed the path she had made through the flowers, but she dared not move.

Her brother and father drew their swords. The suitor backed away toward his army. Mari almost called out as she watched her brother unceremoniously run the king through with his sword.

The prince jumped off his horse and spat at his dead father. He leaned down and picked up his father's sword, testing its weight. Then he threw it hard into the field saying, “I always liked mine better anyway.”

The sword landed dangerously close to Mari's leg, but she somehow managed not to move or call out. She picked it up gripped it tight, ready to defend herself if need be.

“Now, said her brother, “I will need to kill a few of you to make look good.” He turned to the gruff suitor, “As discussed, of course, you may escape with your payment.” He tossed a purse to the man.

The suitor smiled at his prize, but shook his head, “Change of plans I'm afraid,” he signaled with his hand. From the forest, no less than five arrows soared out and struck the prince square in his chest. He fell dead next to his father.

Mari felt an odd yet familiar sensation. It was the connection to the marigolds, but now it was pulling her toward them, She knew it was because she could see the ones near her leaning in toward her. What she did next was by instinct alone. She reached out picked the nearest marigold and held it close to her mouth. The connection grew to something profound and powerful within her and whispered into the flower, “the kingdom is under attack from the west. A large army approaches. The king is dead by the prince's hand and the prince at the hand of the enemy. Ready the kingdom to defend itself.”

She closed her eyes and felt the powerful connection come to life in a way that made her feel alive like she never had in her entire life. It flowed outward from her in a powerful wind lifting the flowers and her message with them until the entire field of marigolds was airborne. As the flowers floated eastward toward her kingdom, they broke apart so that each petal was separate from the rest and the lot of them made the sky appear golden.

Mari laughed out loud at the power she felt and at the realization that the prophecy had been about her all along. With the flowers hastily flying eastward carrying her warning, she was now exposed and the enemy army was racing after her. She turned and ran. Archers shot arrows but her newfound power swept them aside. A couple of times, a soldier caught up to her and pulled at her dress, tearing at it, trying to get to her. Each time she turned fought the man with skills she had taught herself and won the fight.

She finally reached Glenda and sped away as the shouts of the enemy army faded away behind her. The sky to the east was beautifully golden.

The End