Flora was sitting on the front row of pews, immediately facing the now Crown Prince, Ciaran. Immensely proud of the small boy for his calmness and good behaviour throughout the ceremony, she did not notice the attackers at first. However, as King Ernest turned to take the throne and the hexes began to fly, Flora's instincts kicked in.
Getting up and shedding her shoes as she rain straight for the small boy - narrowly missing colliding with his father (and later Princess Gabrielle as she attempted to take him from the fray) - Flora turned and began to fight for the child's life in a way she had done before, but had hoped never to do again. Ignoring the solid thump as her tiara fell from her head and rolled under a throne, she shifted to allow the King room but sent hex after hex back at the attackers with a ferocity few would expect from a relatively genteel woman of the court. Her father's voice called to her from somewhere of the room, but she was not going to leave Ciaran now - but her concern was her eventual downfall. After sending two fighters crashing to the floor with the same hex, she took the chance to turn, grab the Prince's arm and pull him behind her - but her attention was taken for long enough to see a bright purple jet of light hit her straight in her side.
Flora's mouth jutted open in a gasp and she fell to her knees, lips falling open and closed as she attempted to take air in her lungs. A dark pain gnawed inside her ribcage and she began to see black spots dancing in front of her eyes, and the warm feeling of dark blood spreading across her gown and down from her forehead as an attacker struck again.
Her last act before slipping into unconsciousness was to drag Ciaran underneath her, the frightened child hiding unseen under her voluminous skirts.