The entourage came to a halt in the clearing just beyond the front gate of the cottage, a wide circle of ferns and snowy earth at the end of the white crystal road.
Penelope opened the gate with trembling hands and ducked a short curtsy. The flowers of her dress flared livid red.
The banner-bearing guard leading the company appraised Penelope with wary shock before his features settled into a neutral expression.
"Greetings," he began. "As representatives of Royal House Grimwood, we have come to escort Princess Penelope of Royal House Starwood and her companions—"
"Oi! Tell them to clear off!" Sister Rosin called in a half whisper that carried through the winter air.
Penelope held her breath, spine stiff with trepidation, as the guard bristled and Sister Heely admonished her wife in hissing tones.
Penelope swallowed down a laugh of panic at the situation. She clenched her hands into fists behind her back and drew her shoulders straighter to mask her horror.
"Apologies, herald of Royal House Grimwood." Penelope forced the words past the tightness in her throat. "I am Princess Penelope of Royal House Starwood. Please, continue." Penelope offered another curtsy, eyeing the nearest horse warily as it stamped the frozen ground.
"Escort... Princess Penelope... and her companions, yes, to the Dark Moon Ball at Grimwood Fort this night," the herald recovered, shooting wary looks at the Sisters. Sister Heely appeared to be holding a scowling Sister Rosin back by the folds of her gown.
"We don't need an escort, thank you very much, we have our own carriage, as you can see," Sister Rosin waved an arm towards the wooden box blinking yellow, pink, and purple in the yard outside the shed.
Penelope closed her eyes and took a steadying breath as the Sisters continued to squabble.
Penelope's flowers began to glow a violent dark red.
"I... see," the herald uttered, looking at a loss and leaning away from Penelope's gown as the flowers began to open and close like pincers.
"Please pay my companions no mind, good harbinger, we have had a rather... trying time in recent weeks, and—"
"Are those flowers alive, then?" An incredulous exclaim sounded from a Ranger behind the herald guard, who was leaning in his saddle to peer down at Penelope, mouth open in shock.
"Ranger Callum, you will step back into rank—"
"Oh, yes, I named this one Agatha," Penelope gestured rather stupidly at a large blossom resting on her right hip, which promptly faded from leery red to a bashful pink at the attention.
Penelope's whole body was beginning to shiver from the cold and the unreality of the situation.
"I can see that, she looks like an Agatha," Ranger Callum replied with a serious nod.
"Ranger Callum, I swear—"
"Oh, no, he's fine—"
"—clear off, we said—"
The trees around the clearing began to rattle, boughs trembling with threat, as Penelope's tension ratcheted. The Grimwood entourage peered about the circle with wide eyes, the Rangers' hands poised on the hilts of their clubs as the horses stamped their iron shod hooves into the gravel.
"PERHAPS," thundered Sister Heely, "WE MIGHT ALL STEP INSIDE FOR A SPOT OF TEA AND SORT THIS OUT. Hm?"
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YOU ARE READING
Marmalade's Love Potion
Storie d'amoreIn the final days of autumn, a young princess climbs her favourite tree clutching a folded star of paper to her aching heart. Contained within its crisp lines are recountings of her dreams and darings... and a plea that she might, at last, be welcom...
