Speckled Roses Novels & Stories

she asked unhurriedly. Hearing that, Anathea simply curved her lips. "There were never any pink roses. They were all the white ones from before." "What?" A flash of surprise crossed Giselle's eyes. Evangeline was stunned for a few seconds as well. But upon observing how the rose stems had turned from green to red, realization dawned on her. "You used the color absorption technique?"

He had only watched her from behind earlier, so he didn’t realize she was cutting the British Roses. “They smell really nice too. I didn’t know roses could have such a lovely fragrance.” He grew even more panicked when he saw the basket. Not only British Roses, but also Julia Roses, Grasshopper Roses, Madame Caroline Testout, Bourbon Roses, and even Blue Roses. All of those were Mawar’s treasured collection—rare types with very high value. “Aren’t they all super pretty?” Elizabeth smiled while sniffing the rose gently. Doctor John nodded with a stiff smile. Whatever trouble she might get into, he had already decided he would protect her.

Her entire attention had been on his face, but now that the bouquet felt solid in her arms, she lowered her gaze to look at the flowers properly— And her expression instantly changed. The soft blush-pink roses were gorgeous, their petals fading from the center outward in the most exquisite gradient. But the problem wasn’t the roses themselves—It was their name. Juliet roses.

“Brother Turner, you came at the right time. The rainbow roses are blooming. Look at how beautiful it is!” Yosef looked in the direction she pointed and saw two flowers blooming on a rose bush. The colors of the flowers were very rare. They consisted of seven colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. They were known as rainbow roses, also seven-color roses and happiness roses. Their flower language was romance, dreams, happiness, beauty, and nobility. In addition to their vibrant colors, they also exuded a sense of sweetness. They were very rare, and it was Yosef who asked the gardener to carefully cultivate them. He wanted to give them to Yvonne as an expression of his af

Roxanne amusingly grinned as she felt the difference between the roses and the other roses everyone knew about. “Why?” Sonia wondered. “These roses belonged to the Escoffier. It was a medicine and a protection, but it could be a poison if misused or mistreated.” Roxanne answered as she gently touched the rose, which almost made some servants stop her, but realizing it was my wife, they respectfully bowed—they knew Roxanne’s connection to them. “I see. Shall we add a stone tablet explaining the unique features of the roses here?” I suggested, catching their attention, and I shrugged my shoulders.

The rare black dragon roses. These are unlike any other roses, black in colour, and twice the size of ordinary roses. They are uniquely found only within the confines of the dark forest's cliff! “Found them!” I cried out, feeling a gush of excitement. “Be careful!” Rey warned from behind. After setting my bag down, I cautiously approached the cliff edge, which was somewhat slick from an unexpected rain shower. I gently positioned myself at the edge, leaning slightly forward, and reached for the plant. A single rose would suffice.

A tiny crimson bead of blood welled up on my skin. "Careful," Greg murmured. He had been standing a few feet away, but at the sight of the blood, he stepped closer, his presence immediately grounding. I reached back in, more cautiously this time, and gently lifted the object out by the stem. It was a freshly cut, incredibly thorny rose. The petals, which must have originally been a dark, velvety red, had been carefully spray-painted pitch black. The edge of every single petal had been meticulously lined with a border of sparkling silver glitter.

Adolph took note, “Why?” “Because of how much the Rosa multiflora, mahoe, and the winter daphne resemble the oleander flower,” she said seriously. “It would be like wishing doom upon the wedding to use any of them and they’re staples in most varieties of petal jams! They aren’t used in any jam eaten at a wedding as far as I know.”

Come and see. I put the pencil down. I came to see. The roses were the specific pink that Catherine had selected with the eye she brought to the garden, not the commercial pink but the older variety, the kind that had a complexity to the color, deeper at the center and lighter at the edge. Two of them open, with the third still closed but clearly imminent. Catherine was looking at them from her chair. She said, when I came to stand beside her: there they are. I said: yes.

Her voice was too smooth. I looked at the chest. “What’s inside?” I asked. “A charm for protection, Princess.” She answered. I felt Roses stir at my hip, wrapped against me in her sling. Her tiny fists clenched as if she knew something I didn’t. A faint glow around my neck gave a faint pulse, like a heartbeat answering hers. I was told it was a pearl and it could pulse anywhere in my body. Mara stepped forward. Too close. And then, Roses cried. Not a soft whimper but a shrill, panicked scream. The pearl flared, white-hot light spilling from it, so bright Mara hissed and dropped the chest.