Marigolds Book Novels & Stories

We were worse than broke; we were owned. I was twenty-three now. I spent my days scrubbing the same tiles I scrubbed as a child. My mother, Rosa, was even more angry than before. "Stop looking at those books, Valeria!" she screamed at me one night. I was sitting on the floor of our laundry room, trying to read a law textbook I had found in the trash behind the village library. "Books do not put bread on the table. You are a maid. Your mother is a maid. Your grandmother was a maid. That is all you will ever be!"

The hinges gave a mournful creak. My eyes darted to the contents of the kit. There, nestled in velvet, was a long, shimmering needle filled with a liquid the color of bruised violets. Wolfsbane. The hope died so fast it left me dizzy. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. "No," I whispered, scrambling backward until my spine hit the cold stone wall. "Mali, please. Not that. Anything but that." "Mali, please look at me," I begged, my voice cracking.

She was hoping for him to say something, but he never did. "I guess you're right," Ahankara smiled back, before sighing. "That's just how fate works." She looked at Yashvir with tender eyes and a soft smile. "Flames, no matter how dangerous, always seem to be drawn towards roses." - - - - - -

Esper glanced back nervously, and the stag nodded his head, encouraging her to go in. Taking a deep breath, Esper cleared the vines and revealed a doorless archway. Inside, the stone building was full of flora. Climbing up the walls were white datura flowers, and the floor was covered with blooming rain lilies. The moon shone brightly through the holes in the roof, turning all of the white flowers silver, just like her hair. The area was what Esper was searching for, and she had the stag to thank for bringing her there. Esper heard a rustling and turned around to see the stag trying to make its way inside. She couldn't help but chuckle a little as she watched the animal struggle. He couldn't

At this moment, Philip realized that there was such a filthy secret hidden in Blossoms Valley. Marigold formed a spell with her hands. The entire Blossoms Valley was suddenly filled with marigolds. Marigold said to Philip, “Since you got the source of life, please help me give the monster in this statue the final blow.” No wonder Marigold's expression was so indifferent just now. She was ready to die. She had already decided to perish with the valley. Looking at the marigold all over the mountains and plains, Philip could even feel Marigold's life passing by at this moment.

The whispers now words saying There is no book as Eidolon coaxed her from day into dream. “But what if I want to talk about it?” she was saying as they sat down and settled in. Purses tucked between their feet. Arms planted on the table, overpriced coffees within reach. Hers smelling of black brewed strong with a splash of milk, Margo’s of fragrant pumpkin spice and too much creamer.

Wendy Another library. Another dead end. So far, anyway. "Nothing." I close the book louder than I mean to, and a woman at the next table over glares at me. I make an apologetic face and shrink into myself. "Same here." Alec pushes his book away. The local library on the third island isn't much bigger than a house, and the number of books on local lore amounts to what can hardly be called a stack. "Maybe this is pointless," I mumble. "Igor spent decades searching for the coin. What makes us think we can find it in a few days?"

Gregor POV By the time the sun burned through the last of the storm, the forest had gone too quiet. No birds. No frogs. Not even the soft hum of fae light that usually drifted above the wildflowers. Just wind, sliding through the ravine like a blade. Marigold walked beside me, her hair still damp, jacket patched and muddy, the Fae — or, as she insisted, “Barbie the Glorious Sparkle Pest” — fluttering in lazy circles above her head. The Fae grumbled the entire time.

"I'm going to grow so fast the wind won't be able to catch me!" Maria watched her go, the smile lingering on her lips even as the shadow of worry remained in her eyes. Lina was happy with the "wind seed" story for now, but Maria knew that as the girl grew, she would start asking about the wind itself. She would want to know where it blew from, and why it had to be so "brave." For now, however, the garden was a place of peace. The secret was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of love and marigolds, and the "child of light" was busy trying to build a castle for an earthworm king.

Her fiancé had proposed two months ago, and she’d been on cloud nine ever since. I’d always thought her name was too banal for her. Marigolds were cute, but Mari herself was more like a hibiscus: eye-catching and gorgeous, her hair the deep red of the center of a hibiscus. I’d once told her that I’d thought of her compared to that flower, and she’d told me I was silly before going out and buying a hibiscus plant for her apartment.