Page 59 of Guardian

It was one that shadowed every crevice in my decisions, echoing, magnifying as I pondered my brothers who stood before me.

Tailors inhabited polar corners of the gathering room, Christopher, Noah, Kaleb, and I on individual round stands. The Ambrogios were passionate about corresponding attires between pairs. With the pending marriage announcement, this pressure increased tenfold, each accidental jab and pinch exhibiting it.

“Is she an imbecile?” Kaleb asked with fury laced in his tone. The tailors all around us shook more than a leaf.

Noah’s laugh echoed. “Oh my, Kaleb, youdounderstand your dear Catalina doesn’t understand what’s in season.”

“Obviously. She chose pleats for the third year in a row! And if you call her my dear one more time, dimwit, I’ll be sure to pay your pool a little visit.”

“Oh please.” Noah waved his hands in the air. “You’re just jealous that at least my Bethany listens. If only she’d accept my hand in marriage. We’d make such a grand pair.”

“Ha! As if she wants to bear the title of the Premier’s wife, nevertheless,yourwife.”

“Then why not you? You do have a great sense of authority already. Why not extend it to our species? Catalina is practically dying for the proposal.”

Kaleb scoffed with disgust. “I’d rather be six feet under than be bound by marriage and a tainted title in an iniquitous society.”

With the two canceled as options, it left Christopher and I. His dynamic with Anabelle was evenhanded. She didn’t display a vast dislike for him like Bethany, nor was he repulsed by her like Kaleb. Together, they were the defined example of a Regal couple, a pair that complemented each other physically and mentally.

On the other hand, Davina and I could never be an option. She was too similar in attributes to Kaleb, both two sides of the same coin. I couldn’t bear to succumb to someone who not only saw me as a pet beneath them but one I couldn’t love.

And that was the foundation our mother taught us about marriage.

You must find someone who sees you as an equal and values you to your very core. Not your status or goods.

With the Christmas Ball forthcoming, I couldn’t help but question who’d be announced.

My gaze fell on Christopher, who kept his eyes steady on the ground, and our mother’s voice rang. How could I manipulate Christopher to subdue Kaleb once and for all?

When we were excused, I slithered into the garden, where noon decorated the sky with a blanket of clouds. The sun was partially hidden, yet the flowers withstood their full liveliness.

I paced along the stone pathways that overlapped across the vast greenhouse. It wove through the white and black calla lilies and soft green gladioli that appeared near the entrance. Both plots faced each other, their blossoming petals nearly overflowing past the dividers that separated them from the trails and the next row.

Beside them were arctic blue forget-me-nots and bronze zinnias. The forget-me-nots snaked along their lot while the zinnias towered outside of their borders. Then followed the ruby red roses that spiked in all sorts of directions, and opposing them were the violet irises, nearly meeting the roses in height and width.

At the very end of the greenhouse were vibrant sunflowers, our mother’s favorite, their petals and leaves practically rebounding the shimmering sun within them.

Yet, this peace was short-lived.

Tristan’s search for the intruder continued. He had one lead. I bore none. If I didn’t play my cards correctly with Christopher, I might not have a possibility of any.

A shadowy presence loomed behind me.

“If you run away from the tailors, they’ll search for you. They have a deadline to meet.”

Raphael drew next to me. “They won’t notice. They’re too focused on Jacque’s disapproval for every little thing.”

“Very well,” I said as I continued my walk, pausing before the forget-me-nots to inspect. “So, what will be your excuse for evading the tailors?”

“Plants! Yeah, let’s talk about plants.” A weary smile flashed across his face while he tilted his head. “Mine are close to death.”

“Well, have you watered them?” His silence was profound. “Raphael, plants dry up when exposed to only sun. You also have to—”

Raphael threw his arms into the air and waved them. “Okay! Never mind.” He pressed his lips and followed behind me as I neared the roses. “I was wondering, Brother, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I never mind. You know that.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and stopped beside me. “Is there. . . something you’re hiding from me?”

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