Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life
Written by the Sapphire Prince
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Previously on L.F.A:
Rosamunde, while at the estate of the Skylers, finally met the somewhat taciturn Mr. Chadwick Jones. She decided that she would not even dare to like him for the sake of starting a friendship with Charlene, Skyler's twin sister. She also chose to participate in a tournament that determines which male and female will obtain a baronetcy, thus earning the title of Lady— or Sir—. Rosie however, is afraid of the consequences that might befall her. And after an inspirational speech from Crimson, the spunky and often outspoken Vulpix, Rosie realized that the only way to succeed is to control the object and to not let the object control her...
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A/N: I do not own pokemon, nor will I ever do so. And since I love the way the font Trebuchet MS looks in Italics on my PC, the chapters will be like this from now on. Thank you —The Sapphire Prince
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Chapter Three
It was the night before the grand tournament—aptly named the Aristocratic Matches—when Rosamunde awoke to a breezy morning, with Ellie and Dew beside her on the firm mattress underneath thin, white cotton sheets. They were sound asleep, for they had endured an adequate amount of training for the Matches. Each pokemon learned now maneuvers and such, however, Rosamunde focused more on the three key elements: fire, water, and grass. Hence, Lady Vanilla, a gentle Bayleef, Sir Dew, the adorable Azumarill, and Sir Crimson, the gallant Vulpix. Together, one might underestimate their extraordinary abilities, but anyone who knew Rosie, knew that none of her pokemon were pushovers.
One might assume that Rosie was not a great trainer: one, because she's a young woman, which is trifling indeed, two, because she does not have a lot to choose from, and three, because many of them have not yet evolved. One must never do that, for pokemon are always full of surprises.
Rosie stretched and she yawned. Hannah had since left for Star fruit Island and the ceremony was set to commence in less than a fortnight and in one se'enight (a week), Rosamunde was engaged to travel to the island and get fitted for her gown. The date was set for April 20th and Hannah babbled more than ever. Her letters only contained information of how perfect he was and how they're in the process of building an estate on his grandfather's land in order to keep a close watch on his health and mentality. She talked of how she's going to decorate and how she wants Rosamunde and Rochelle to visit after a week of matrimony. She talked of how she wished to have many children, how she wanted to name a girl Harmony. Such naivety disgusted Rosie and the thought of being married was enough to make her quake with fear.
Why was she so scared of a mutual attachment such as that? Or perhaps, was she scared of what followed after the attachment? Moreover, the circumstances she was to undergo on the first night of marital bliss? So many questions, no answers, only time will reveal.
She climbed from her bed and quickly did her toilette. She washed up and slipped on an afternoon frock. The only reason why she might change into an evening dress is if she were invited to attend some party; this she highly doubted, for many were still training, and she did not know if she could bear putting on another corset. Therefore, her frock was loose, and breezy, and, most of all, comfortable. Fortunately, she could wear her bloomers and her cotton shirt with the Mandarin collar tomorrow for the Aristocratic Matches.
After her toilette was complete, Rosie descended the staircase, after deciding that she'd better let her friends rest as long as they pleased, and walked into the breakfast room where her parents sat. Her father, in a pair of tweed slacks and a white shirt, and her mother, in an afternoon dress similar to her own, sat drinking on some chrysanthemum tea with a dose of peach blossom honey.
"Good morning mother and father" said Rosie as she took her seat, "how have you slept during the night?"
"Very well," said her father, "chamomile tea is a superb aid in sleeping. It is very delicious too. Your mother and I each drank a cup before lying down. It also makes one feel more exuberant in the morning, which is just what people of our age need. The chrysanthemum tea is more of a treat than anything else is, for it goes well with the wild blueberry scones that your mother prepared. Silly me, I was not knowledgeable of the fact that a great blueberry bush grows just beyond the window near the kitchen. That explains why I see so many Pidgey and Rattata gathered around here. One time, I was so fed up that I felt like capturing a Pidgey in order to raise its level so that it'd evolve into a Pidgeotto that could deliver business flyers."
"Wow," Rosie thought. "He really is exuberant. I can't recall when was the time last when I heard him speak so much."
"Oh," said her mother, "I heartily agree with your father's statements. Chamomile is superb; I intend on drinking it every night until the day that I die to be sure. Oh! Yes! And I'll drink chrysanthemum tea every morning also, if I can help it—such a pleasant treat! These scones are fabulous, I must say. Do not you think so dear?"
"Indeed," Rosie said, for she realized that not just one, but both of her parents were rather...hyper, if the situation calls for that word, and she did not feel like listening to such rambling over nothing. She had had enough while Hannah was there.
"You seem excited today about the Matches tomorrow," said Mrs. Fierra, "I hope that you are prepared, for the competition will be tough."
"Myself," Rosie said with wide eyes, and pointing to herself, "excited? I never considered myself to be that way. I grew out of that a long time ago, for excitement usually turns into nervousness within a few hours: like a metamorphosis."
"Well put," said Mr. Fierra, "well put my daughter." Then, he sipped his tea once more and smiled at the sweet taste. His deep blue eyes sparkled in happiness, and his dark red hair, his ginger colored hair, was neatly combed, for he was an early bird, and, if Rosie knew him well enough, he had awoke more than two hours ago and performed his toilette. Usually, while waiting the interval of an hour for his wife to rise, he would do what was formally mentioned, and go on a pleasant promenade about Rosewood for a half-hour. Once mother was up, he helped her prepare breakfast, unless the items were scones, yet even then he would still measure the ingredients. She mixed.
Sometimes, Rosamunde would survey her parents' lifestyle and their general behavior towards each other. They helped one another, they talked to each other, they had triplets almost half of a decade ago, and they still slept in the same room and in the same bed, which few couples did once they became older; they still kissed too. If this is what marriage is, then this is what Rosie would want to be a part of. But she had seen spoiled marriages; like that of Rochelle's parents. Her mother fled from her husband's grasp when she was just twenty, one year after they had married, with Rika still as an infant, to Autumn Island, where they live alone, in a small cottage called Ivy Cottage, without any financial aid from her husband. This compelled her to take up a job as a seamstress in order to support her child. She never found nuptial love again, and she's been sewing since. And if it matters, in Rosie's opinion, Mrs. Carlyle made the best gowns in all of Flora! All of her gowns were ordered from her or made by Rosie herself, for she knows the art. Rochelle would be competing in this tournament, and more than herself, Rosie knew that she deserved the prize more than anyone else.
"Have you heard any news about my brothers and my sister? I miss their presences very much," asked Rosie.
"Yes, indeed. They are to arrive later on this evening with Peony and her husband. They are to reside with us for a se'enight. Peony claims to have such a grand surprise to show us. I wonder what it is," said Mrs. Fierra, with a pensive look that quickly turned into a smile, "I do miss my babies. Such trouble I went through in bearing them. Three at once! I felt like strangling your father!"
"Thank God that you did not," he said with a hearty chuckle.
"I can't wait until I see them. I had been working on a frock for Rosalynne. It has teddy bear on it and it's in a sky blue. All that I have to do is apply lace to the cuffs; which reminds me that I have to go in town today, to the milliner's shop and to a few others. Which also means that I'll need to use Dasher, your stallion, father."
"I suppose that you can," said Mr. Fierra with an air of uncertainty.
"Father," she said as she rose from her seat, "I can handle him."
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So Rosamunde went into town. She went inside of the milliner's shop, where she purchased some pretty white lace and a hat for herself, a small tan hat that was worn tilted to the side, and a pair of golden pins with colored flowers on it. It cost her about thirty-four petals, which is about seventeen dollars in American, which was a lot of money in those days. After that, she went to a pokemon store, where she bought each of her pokemon a collar with their names engraved in silver upon it, which cost another fifty petals and twenty-seven seeds. Afterwards, she went home, enjoying the cool breeze as Dasher galloped along the dirt roads, which led to Rosewood...
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By the time that Rosamunde arrived at the estate, the children were already there. They greeted her eagerly with showers of hugs and kisses but Evan, being the prankster that he was, tried to hold off. But he could not resist the urge and he hugged her more than Julian and Rosalynne.
"I missed you Rosie," he said as he jumped up and down, still a child in every way.
"We missed you Rosie," said Rosalynne, always the one to prevent conflict of any sort by correcting Evan, for he and Julian bickered and fought at least one a day but on a good weeks, there would be only two fights. Rosalynne was the peacemaker.
"I've missed you all."
Subsequently, her Aunt Peony and Uncle George, the McDermotts, each came up to her and hugged her.
"You've grown much more," said Aunt Peony, "that was supposed to end years ago," she giggled as she sized her up, noticing how much more beautiful than the time last she saw her. "You've bloomed once again. You are much prettier than your mother when she was nineteen, for she was married on her anniversary."
Mrs. Fierra groaned and said, "that may be true, but I was still pretty nonetheless."
"I agree," said her husband and they each laughed.
Although Rosie was very much like her mother in appearance, she was even closer to Mrs. McDermott, and this made the two women seem like sisters, for Peony was the youngest at just twenty-eight years of age, whereas Mrs. Fierra was the eldest at forty-two, for she was married early. Mr. Fierra was just forty-six.
"What is that grand surprise of yours sister? I am rather anxious to know."
Mrs. and Mr. McDermott looked at one another and grinned and she said to Rosie and her mother, "feel." The pair looked at one another and gently touched her belly. The soft swelling and roundness of pregnancy was inconspicuous to the naked eye, for Peony had been wearing a loose gown under a thick riding coat, but to the naked hand, it was anything but inconspicuous. The women shrieked out in merriment, for this child was to be her firstborn, the precious firstborn which all parents marvel, as well as the second or the third. Families were large back then.
"How long has it been?" asked Mrs. Fierra.
"My first symptoms began more than eight months ago. What a joyous occasion; I was so surprised; and I was so sick. It's a weird feeling—the thought of knowing that another human being is growing in side of you—which reminds me that I want you to stay with us Rosamunde until a month after our baby is born. What do you say to this offer? We would greatly appreciate it."
Rosie thought for a while. This was her aunt—her favorite one at that— and this was her first child, which means that it was extra special for her. How could she resist? It would be good to have a change of scenery: a different atmosphere.
"Yes! I will leave after you leave."
"That is just capital," she said while clasping her hands together. Then, a flash of pain soared through her body and she clutched her belly. "Oh," she groaned, "the baby just kicked."
Rosie smiled.
"Why did not you tell us?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"It was more than eight months."
"I know."
"Due to the fact that we were unable to see that you were carrying, I believe that your baby girl is very small."
"A girl," the McDermotts cried. "How do you know?"
Mrs. Fierra embraced her own daughter and said, "I have my ways." She kissed her on her rosy cheek.
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A/N: It is now the next day, at the Matches, in the heart of Coconut Island, at the Cocoa Stadium.
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Her Royal Highness and Prince Burke stood side by side. The Queen had just given her speech, or rather, the procession to the highly anticipated Aristocratic Matches that were to take place in a matter of minutes.
"There are eight participants in both the male and female divisions that are going to be separated into two subdivisions: Subdivision A and Subdivision B. After a winner is determined from each subdivision, the two men and women will duel one another in the final battle. The names and pictures of the people participating in the tournament are in the programs—let the Matches begin!"
The crowd erupted in applause and the participants were ushered into the stadium, where they had the honor of sitting next to the Queen and the Prince. Rika sat next to Rosie, (they had joined one another early that morning) who sat next to the Queen. All of the Floriennes sat next to her Majesty while the Floriens sat beside the Prince. Rosie was eager to be sitting next to her and to behold her splendor and beauty.
The Queen, with her silver coronet, pink bloomers and white duster with pearls at the cuffs, slightly leaned over and whispered into Rosie's ear; "I am quite knowledgeable of the fact that my brother has taken a fancy towards you."
Rosie gasped. She had not known that the prince felt for her in that way. She had thought that he was just being charming and flirtatious: that he was always that way towards any handsome young woman. But obviously, she was mistaken. No wonder why he was so crestfallen when she left him after that brief quarrel. But mainly, she was happy just to be speaking to the Queen.
"Perhaps you are mistaken my Queen, for I did not discern that his language and his gestures were any different when directed towards myself than what they were when directed towards other women," she said.
"Indeed I am not, for I am his especial confidante when it comes to matters of the heart, or more importantly, of the mind, for the heart is what many people confuse with the mind because the mind tells a person is in love with someone else."
"That it true my Queen, but I am sure that it is just an infatuation. I am just the child of a gentleman and a gentlewoman, would not a marriage between someone of my caliber and someone of his caliber be unlawful and unjust?"
"No, to be sure. Love is love, situation does not matter," the Queen said, "this is what I believe."
"And what you believe in is just my Queen, but all of the feelings that I might have had for your brother the Prince have been vanquished for he proved to me that he is used to having his way with anything and anyone."
"Yes, he is a superficial brat at times, but he is very caring, and he has the capacity to love one faithfully and without hesitation."
"I hope that he finds that person in the future."
The Queen marveled at her companion's stubbornness and said, "I like your way of thinking Miss Fierra. A woman that can deny a prince's love is a great woman in my eyes. It means that you are not there for the money or the rank of being a princess or possibly a queen. I admire you."
Rosamunde looked at her friend, who was listening intently and she said to the queen, "if you admire the way I think, then you would love my special companion, Miss Rochelle Carlyle. She is an excellent painter and an extraordinary person." Rika smiled and bowed her head. The Queen smiled sweetly.
The Prince looked over at Rosie, smiled that gorgeous smile of his, and then looked at Rochelle and gave her an even better one. If this was meant to make Rosamunde envious of her best friend, then he was utterly mistaken. Instead, Rosie returned his smile with a polite grin.
"Well, Miss Fierra, I believe that you will start off Subdivision A and that you Miss Carlyle will begin Subdivision B. Good luck to the both of you," said the Queen with a wave.
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Rosie meandered her way down to one of the four arenas inside of the Cocoa Stadium. The arenas themselves were made out of gray concrete that was roughly sanded in order to produce a relatively smooth surface in order to prevent the pokemon from hurting themselves. Her parents and her siblings and the McDermotts were each in the Subdivision A section and they cheered for her as well as for Rika, whose mother sat contentedly beside Mrs. McDermott.
Rosie's name was announced as well as her opponent's, whose name was Michelle Austin; she was a short young woman, with short green hair and green eyes, as green as freshly cut grass on a midsummer's day. She clutched her spheres: ready to battle.
"First," said the announcer, "there will be a fire battle. Each woman shall through out her pokemon and none will be returned. Once one can battle no longer, all pokemon will be returned and a new element will be called hence. Ladies, begin."
Miss Austin threw out the sphere and with a small clicking noise did a small pokemon very similar to her own appear. Why, it was another Vulpix much to Rosie's surprise.
"I choose you Sir Crimson," she yelled as she pitched the ball and her fawn, cream, and crimson colored Vulpix erupted from his home, inside of the pokeball.
Would you look at that! There is another member of my kind Rosie. I have not fought another Vulpix since I was with my siblings last. This should be quite entertaining, Crimson said with a grin.
"Have fun."
"Austin," said Michelle, "go! Tackle him."
The normal colored pokemon ran down the arena straight towards Crimson. What a large mistake she had just committed! Rosie said, "quick! Use you skull bash attack."
Right! Then, Crimson took off; his nose turned a blinding white, as did his paws, as he gained momentum. He met his component in the middle of the ring; he crashed into him with all of his might. The opponent was lifted into the air and he shrieked as he crashed to the ground. The pokemon had not recovered from the tremendous blow and it fell to the ground in defeat. Rosie assumed that he must not have been at as high a level as Crimson.
"Miss Fierra wins the round with a flawless victory. The next element is going to be grass; which pokemon will the ladies choose?"
"Great job Crimson," she said, "take a break."
"Rest my dear; you have done well," said Michelle. She smiled at Rosie as she threw out a large Victreebel. She appeared to be confident that she could win this round.
"It is your turn my friend," said Rosie as her first pokemon was dispelled from the pokeball. Lady Vanilla had not evolved into a Meganium; however, she was still a large Bayleef nevertheless. She still possessed that air of sweetness that Rosie adored and she was still formidable in the ring.
Rosie briefly overheard the announcer say, "Miss Carlyle has won her first match and what a stunning victory it was!"
'Wow,' Rosamunde thought, 'she must have been training very hard over the past two weeks. I hope that I will have a chance to battle her in the end!'
"Use the razor leaves."
Victreebel cocked back and let loose a quintet of pointed leaves at her opponent. Rosie did not have to tell Vanilla that she should dodge it, for it was only common sense. She was quite baffled as to why trainers have to tell their pokemon to move out the way; it is an insensible thing to do.
"Good moving," she congratulated her, "now use your vines and slam it to the ground."
Vanilla galloped as she launched her supple green vines, which were bright green because Rosie kept her well watered and gave her a lot of cacti, for they are full of water and essential nutrients. The wind created during the gallop blew the bitten leaf atop her head and a fierce smirk was visible on her face. The vines latched onto Victreebel and Vanilla continued to run until she stopped and ducked her head. The inertia forced the flytrap pokemon to skid across the ground.
"Quickly, do a body slam!"
With a gallant bellow did her Bayleef heave its girth upon the flytrap, causing it to scream out in pain.
"Return!" cried the girl as she wiped her tears onto her sleeve.
"Miss Fierra has won the match!"
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Everything turned out just as Rosie wished and Rochelle, her best friend, was to fight her in a matter of moments. They stood side by side in the comfort of a sculpted alcove that they were to walk through when they were called for.
"I have never had the pleasure of having a pokemon duel with you my friend," said Rosie with a rueful smile planted on her face.
"I know; it is a pity that our paths never crossed in this before. I do have an advantage though," said Rochelle.
"And what may that be?"
"I know of every single pokemon that you call your own and you only know of two of mine."
"If you count that as an advantage then do whatever pleases you."
"No, you do not seem to comprehend what I am saying. Since I knew which pokemon you would be using, I trained my pokemon accordingly. And it all seems to be working out fabulously."
"Now that you've enlightened me to this fact, I will be on my guard."
"Good," she said, "that is all that I wanted." Rochelle was serious. She wanted this match to be great. She wanted to earn her right of being a lady and of earning all of the petals. And through Rosie was the best way possible.
"I believe that Skyler and Mr. Jones are to battle one another for the baronetcy as well. It is a shame that I will not be able to see the battle," said Rosie.
"Would Misses Rosamunde Fierra and Rochelle Carlyle along with Misters Skyler and Jones please enter the selected arenas," said the announcer.
With these words, the two young men jogged up to the ladies, each in a light pair of slacks and a white shirt, and bowed, saying that "we are to escort you into the arena." Quickly did Skyler try to take Rosie's arm, but he was unsuccessful, for Mr. Jones had already beaten him to it. He sulked silently as he settled with Rika's arm. They all greeted one another cheerfully, except Skyler, for he had suddenly become moody much to Rika's dismay. The men dropped the ladies off to their arena and hurried off to their own. The crowd cheered and everything was ready...
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"The element for this final round will be that of the water element—begin!"
"I choose you Dew!"
"Go Albert!" exclaimed Rochelle as a cute alligator pokemon appeared in the middle of the ring. It jumped into the air and waddled and jigged and did everything to show that it was happy.
Dew smiled as he stared at his opponent after deciding that he would be a fun playmate, like Mrs. Fierra's pokemon, Darwin, who was still alive after all of these many years.
"Use the water gun attack," said Rosie.
"You too Albert!"
Canons of water cascaded out of each pokemon's mouth and soared to the median point where the water collided and shot upwards into the air, causing a downpour to shower upon the audience. Right then and there did Rosie decide that this match was not going to be easy, for Dew could usually overpower any water attack with his own.
"Bounce and use a tackle attack!"
Dew curled into a ball as best as he could and bounced on the ground, getting closer to the fleeing Totodile all the while. He connected once and the alligator was pushed to the ground.
"Use a head-butt!"
When the two were aligned perfectly, meaning when Dew was about to strike again, Albert met him before he had even gained his momentum and the force propelled Dew into the air and he slid across the ground.
Ouch!
"Are you all right?"
It sure does smart though, he said as he winced in pain, but I am fine. He rose up from the ground and dusted off his back.
"Bite him Albert!"
With a jig did the Totodile chase after Dew with his tongue half out of his mouth, dangling, and where did he bite him? In the worst place possible for any member of the Marril family: right on the tail, where the cute blue ball is. Dew squealed in pain as the alligator slammed him down repeatedly.
Rosie bit her nail pensively when suddenly, an idea popped into her head. "Dew," she yelled, "uncoil your tail!"
When the alligator went to go swing him in the air, yank him back, and quickly move out the way, Dew uncoiled his usually crinkled tail and then recoiled, thenceforth causing his body to slam into Albert. But, he would not cease to let go of the ball.
"I know how to win this round," Rosie said. "Dew, I want you to dive and roll!"
"What will that do?"
"You'll see!"
Dew leapt forward, causing Albert to go into the air with him, and in one fluid movement did he rotate his body his head was looking and Albert's underbelly, thus doing a flip, which forced Albert to let go and fly into the podium where his trainer was standing.
"Albert! You did a good job, now take a rest."
"You too Dew, I knew that I could count on you."
"Miss Fierra has won round one. The next element is now that of the grass. Begin!"
"Go Lady Vanilla."
"I choose you Willa! Go!" Following the command, a glorious Sunflora was released from her home. She smiled; well, a smile is perpetual on her face and beamed in happiness. It was a sunny day outside.
"Tackle it!"
Vanilla stamped the ground and charged at Willa, how was too slow to move out of the way. She was one of the most affected grass elements, for she was a flower in virtually every way possible, except that she could make noises and use attacks. Willa was flung to the ground and her former smile was pressed into a deep frown. She was not so happy any longer.
"Hold out Willa."
"What are you doing?" asked Rosie, for she was confused.
"You will see."
"Use your vines!"
Vanilla extended both vines and slapped Flora across the face with it. Her face went to and fro, hither and thither, here and there until her face started to grow white with anger—or perhaps was it something else?
"Finish her off with a tackle. Rika, remind me to give you some potion capsules after the match. Your naivety is showing right now."
"No I think that yours is. Go Willa, relinquish your solar-beam!" She yelled.
It was the perfect scenario, here was Vanilla, charging at her opponent, while the whole time, since the beginning of the match, Willa had been gathering energy and Rosamunde was to foolish to realize that, even with all of her experience. A great beam of yellow and white solar energy was hurled at Vanilla, at close range to Willa, in the midst of running, and due to the nearness, the blow was more affective. Vanilla screamed in pain as she was blasted across the ground. Rosie shrieked and ran to her side and rubbed her head. A tear dripped down her cheek as she spoke soothing words to her pokemon. She returned her.
"Good job Willa, I knew that you would not fail me," said Rochelle with a sweet smile. She was really serious. She had much to gain and nothing or nobody was going to stop her—not even her best friend, Rosamunde
"Miss Carlyle has won this round, which means that the winner of the ladyship could be either of the two. Final round—commence!"
The only people who seemed to occupy the world in these last few moments were Rosamunde, Rochelle, and their pokemon, Lassie, the robust Arcanine, and Crimson, whom had each been called a few seconds after the announcer stopped speaking.
Rosie grunted.
"Use an ember attack!" cried Rochelle.
Like phlegm coming from a mouth did Lassie spit out the embers that danced at Crimson's feet. He bounded endlessly from place to place, only to be met by a puddle of flames until the whole arena was a blazing inferno.
"Leap into the air and do a quick attack," said Rosie.
Crimson obediently leapt into the air, pinpointing a space on Lassie's ribs where he thought might be her weak spot, and propelled, like an arrow, into the exact location. She bellowed in pain but she quickly countered with a tail whip thenceforth flinging him like a rag doll. He was a hill compared to this mountain of flesh, muscle, and bone.
"Use flamethrower!"
"You too!"
A blaze if flames collided in the middle of the ring, heating up the entire atmosphere, causing men to unbutton their cuffs and collars and women to wave their fans. A ball of fire was hurled into the air. The battle was getting intense and Lassie's firepower was overcoming Crimson's. He could breathe fire no longer: his internal fire sacs would not allow it. He was engulfed in flames.
"Stop!" cried Rochelle.
Rosie held her burnt pokemon. His fur was singed with black and soot had fount its way there. It pained her to see him this way.
"The winner of the women's division is...Miss Rochelle Carlyle!"
The crowd applauded.
Rosie shook her head. She had lost another grand tournament...
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The Queen placed a jeweled silver crown upon Rochelle's head and a check for one hundred thousand petals into her hands. Then, smiling the whole time, she kissed her politely on both cheeks as the Prince did so with the winner of the male division—Frederic Skyler.
There was no room for Rosie to be sad right now, for both of her friends had won grand titles and a supreme amount of money. She smiled courteously, masking her own gloominess. If she were disposed to be happy for her friends, then why did she feel so bad?
"I knight thee as Sir Frederic Skyler," said Prince Burke, "I hope that you will not use your title recklessly and use it justly. I hope that you will be generous and kind and spend your fortune wisely."
"I knight thee as Lady Rochelle Carlyle," said Queen Grace, "I hope that you will find a splendid husband and that you will be dutiful, cheerful, sensible of others, and I am confident that you will spend your fortune prudently."
The crowd applauded.
"Your first meeting in the House of Lords and Ladies will be in a month's time," said the Queen, "and at this time, the newly knighted Lady Rochelle and Sir Skyler will participate in a spotlight dance with myself and my regal brother, Prince Burke. It will be led by an aria composed by Mr. Chadwick Jones."
The two pairs danced away. Rosamunde stood silent, amongst all the other losers, and dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. (After the dance, Prince Burke planted a sensual kiss on Rochelle's full lips, much to everyone's surprise. It made the front page the following morning in the Florien Times.) But the true question is, were these tears of joy or of sorrow?
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The Aristocratic Matches have now drawn to a close. And now what are the following thoughts? Should she have won? Or is it best that she lost? Is she being a horrible friend? What about this maturity that Rosie was meant to have? Is she really immature or is she human like all of the rest of us. Only the future holds the truth. Rosie departs...next time on Love in the Flower Archipelago. Yours, etc.—The Sapphire Prince