Chapter 3

 

     I ran like mad. Sweat tickled down my forehead, and my feet hurt, my shoes pinching my toes, but I didn't care. I ran and ran and ran"thwack! Black dots appeared in my vision and I stumbled back. The ground fell away beneath me and my eyes closed. I slipped into subconsciousness.

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     “Is she dead?” I heard a gruff, low voice that obviously belonged to a man. I nearly groaned. My head throbbed painfully and the words came slowly into my brain. Where am I? Am I dead?

    

     “Of course not, Mr. Hong!” I heard another voice, this one higher in pitch and smoother, a woman's voice, and I could almost detect a frown in it.

    

     “She just needs a little time, that's it,” the woman said, “I don't think Chrysanthemum's head's hard enough for that.”

 

     Chysanthemum! Oh my god! The teashop! The prince! The soldiers! I-I...Where's Chrysanthemum? Is she alright?

 

     I nearly jumped three feet into the air and turned to them, babbling.

 

    “Shh, shh,” the woman frowned, walking to me, propping up several pillows for me to lean on. She thrust a cup of steaming, purplish-looking liquid into my hands. My throat itched, dry, and I was to thirsty to even care what the liquid was, as long as it wasn't poison, and I figured it couldn't be poison. After all, why would someone save a person's life just to poison them?

 

     “It's not tea, but drink up,” she told me, “It should make your head feel a bit better.” I took the cup gratefully and gulped it down. It tasted like a cross between a balsam pear and a peach, sort of bittersweet and a little bit sour. The throbbing pain eased. I sighed and lay back, finally sinking into the pile of pillows.

 

 

     “My name is Wen-Ling,” the woman smiled, taking the cup from my hands. She is a tall, young woman, seemingly somewhere in her late twenties with soft brown eyes, a sharp-tipped distinctive nose, firm, thin lips and of course, that slick, silky mane of dark hair that fell to her elbows. She wore smooth, silk kimono died light blue. Everything about her was pointy and sharp, from her long, painted fingernails to the shape of her eyes. And yet the sharpness didn't extract from her warm demeanor , for her eyes gleamed with warmth and kindness.

 

     “You may call me Wen-Ling or Miss Wu.”

 

     Wu. So her last name is Wu.

 

     I bowed my head. “Thank you, Wen-Ling. I am grateful for your help. Do you know where my companion is? You seem to know her...” I trailed off uncertainly.

 

     Wen-Ling smiled kindly, patting my hand. “Don't worry about Chrysanthemum, now. You're the one who passed out cold. Mr. Hong there had to carry you all the way here. Now, how are you feeling?”

 

      “I am well, thank you.”

 

     “Good,” she turned, setting the cup down on a table, “The carriage will be here in a moment. If you can walk, we'll send you straight home. I've already contacted your parents. Your mama is quite worried.”

 

     Mama... the word slowly sank in.

 

     “My mama?” I yelped, leaping up again.

 

      She laughed. “Of course, Lady Hsia.”

 

      I frowned. “Please, call me Mayflower. You saved my life. I think that much thanks is in order.”

 

     “Of course, Mayflower.” She smiled, “I'll go see if the carriage has arrived.”

 

     She went out the door, and I sighed of relief. Mama was back!

 

     “Mayflower! Mayflower!”

 

     And then Chrysanthemum flew into the room. She gave a cry of joy when she saw me and threw her arms around my neck in a bear hug. The air squeezed out of me.

 

     “You're awake!”

 

     “Chrysanthemum...can't...breathe...” I choked

 

     “Oh!” she leaped back, “Sorry...”

 

     I waited to catch my breath before telling her it's okay.

 

    “Wen-Ling is my cousin,” she explained after grabbing a chair. Mr. Hong had slipped out of the room, leaving us both alone. “She's eleven years older than me, but we get along fine most of the time. She taught me how to use that sword,” she beamed, “She's like a sister. But anyway, I'm so glad nothing happened to you! You slammed into me while you were running away. We got you into some new clothes since There were a few red ones Miss Wu grew out of when she was fifteen. Your father was so worried he sent people out to search for you. Mr. Hong found your father and told him you passed out,” here her smile faded a little, “I think they sent a carriage to take you home... You will visit again sometime, won't you? This is the best day I've had in a long time. I get bored out of my wits these days...”

     I smiled at her. “Of course, Chrysanthemum, of course I'll visit!”

     “The carriage is here, Mayflower,” Wen-Ling stuck her head through the door, smiling, “And so's your mama.”

    I gasped. Immediately, I was out the door. There she was, Mama in her light green chima and forest green jeogori, her glossy black hair tied back with a green ribbon. She held her arms open.

    “Mama!” I shouted as I ran to her, “Mama! Mama!”

     “Mayflower,” Mama embraced me, and for a moment I felt like a small child again. And then she released me.

     “Thank you, Miss Wu,” Mama bowed, low, “For sheltering my daughter at such a time. We are in debt to you.”

      Wen-Ling smiled. “There is no need, Lady Hsia.”

      Mama and I both bowed again. And then Papa burst through the carriage door and gathered me up in his arms. “Papa!” I was surprised. Papa was usually at his office, working with the magistrates or the messengers.

 

     “You, young lady,” he muttered heartily as he ushered me into the carriage, “Are not going anywhere without Lan next time.”

 

     “Of course, Papa,” I whispered back obediently.

     With a stream of final thanks to Wen-Ling, Mama bent and came into the carriage to sit beside me. Apparently, Papa was driving the carriage.

    “So,” Mama stroke my hair, “I hear you are betrothed...”

    I blushed. Straight to the point.

    “Yes,” I grumbled reluctantly. I really didn't want to think about that right now.

    Mama laughed.

 

     "Oh, you poor thing," She murmured and kissed me on the cheek, "It'll be alright. I felt exactly like this when I got betrothed to your father. Trust me, things always get better. Besides. I got married at sixteen years too. Don't worry. Things work themselves out."

 

     "But Mama," I stammered, "I feel like a tool for power. I've had a Baron, an Earl, and a Duke visit! And then the Emperor and his two sons! Clearly Papa's been planning this betrothal for a long time! And he'd betroth me to Crown Prince Luan if he had his way, but the crow prince is already betrothed, thank goodness," here, Mama laughed at my tone of relief, and I continued, "But then I am betrothed instead to his bad-tempered, unfeeling brother! I don't want to marry him, Mama! I can't stand it and he's so--"

 

      "Sh, sh," she put her finger to her lips, "Let's not think about it. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? You know I will do my very best to talk your father out of it, but you know how stubborn he can be. Come what may."

 

    "Come what may," I echoed Mama's words grudgingly.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Yay! finally got enough encouragement to keep on going. Thank you, Crystal Marie Rome.

Note: The names are either the sounds in Mandarin Chinese or translated directly. Mayflower and Chrysanthemum are translated directly whereas Prince Rin's name is the sound of the word because the directly translated word is too weird as a name....

Note 2: A Balsam Pear is also the same as a bitter gourd.

Reviews

[rae52]

its really really good

[Crystal Marie Rome]

Yeah third chapter! =) it was glorious as all your writing is and I'm glad that you were encouraged by me =)))))) (I am grinning like a fool right now). Each chapter is better than the last one and they leave you on the edge so it makes you want to read on. Can't wait for the next chapter and do your best! =)