Page 10 of Guardian

Before I could respond, Sonia bowed and walked through the yard until she vanished outside the gate. Was my pulse pounding this whole time?

Before I could analyze it, I climbed the stairs and pushed against the large doors.

To my surprise, they were unlocked.

Like Sonia, I held the same class as a private guardian. Although with different purposes, we were both a fusion of defensive and offensive guardianship.

Meaning that even with my superb physical and cognitive capabilities, I still grew nervous on my first day.

An icy atmosphere chilled my skin as I stepped inside, ignoring how the door behind me closed by itself. The house seemed empty, the consuming darkness a drastic change from the outside. My breathing steadied as I concentrated, my senses igniting in the gloom.

Dust particles floated across the air, no voices or steps lingering along the walls or floors. My feet settled against the royal blue flooring, the color expanding across the foyer and into different open spaces.

Shadows hid the first floor while sun rays slightly seeped onto the second. I could make out the edges of an obscured, colorful design on the floor. It even traveled onto the ceiling, where a massive chandelier hung above my head, the curves resembling the letter ‘S.’

Suddenly, a faint, bitter smell brushed against my nostrils. It was one I had come across before, one that, especially in the belly of darkness, tugged my body to meet it. Even with its harsh fragrance, it was always sweet against my tongue.

A shadow emerged, a flat yet demanding voice following. “Announce yourself.”

My body quickly relaxed, yet my tongue remained stiff as I forced myself to speak.

“I’m Katerina Eli, your new guardian.”

ChapterFour

ALEK SEPHTIS

The series of images throughout my sleep was never considered dreams but rather nightmares that always left traces of exhaustion when awake. My chest caved with feelings that I loathed to be reminded of. While I questioned their meanings, the answer was one I was too coward to face and never changing: death.

Bereavement took a seat within my chamber, the sense of peace my piano provided missing. In turn, I sought the greenhouse that blanketed me with tranquility and liveliness.

My routine with the garden was one I looked forward to as the flowers held new surprises during my visits. Not because of the blooms each season brought but the ambiance it harbored.

The visitations were never repetitive since it was an activity that reminded me of who I was under the façade I bore before my brothers. It reaffirmed that I still had a sense of emotions that didn’t pertain to anger or hatred, feelings I felt before our mother passed. When the reality of our existence hadn’t struck us— when we were living one lie.

Now, we seemed to be living another.

My focus for the morning had remained on the irises, their petals reflecting a blue undertone within their purple shade. The contrast in its signal had grown evident from the previous week, the yellow patch fiery along the inner muted veins. The stems were a vibrant green, the large patch of irises standing tall without crossing each other. It was a sign of their prime health and my constant maintenance. The garden was once our mother’s safe haven. Now it was mine.

It was the single place that she could escape to without truly fleeing; no one and nothing gained the opportunity to bother her here. It wasn’t long after her death that I noticed I had obtained this habit from her. The garden was one of the places in this household that brought forth our mother’s words with clarity, the moments slipping from my grasp at the reminder of them.

“The past controls us while the future avoids us,”she would say, “but the present always reminds us that we have a purpose within our own existence. We have the will of choice, tomorrow determined by today and whether you want to live or be stuck in the unattainable.”

The flowers were proof of her words.

I spent the remainder of the morning removing weeds from the soil, my fingers careful with the irises’ roots. It was followed by adding mulch where the ground appeared dull and trimming any leaves that had perished. With each hour, the sun grew stronger, and my skin was drenched in sweat. By the time I began watering, the heat was suffocating within the expansive, Victorian greenhouse— yet I didn’t stop.

I moved from section to section, verifying that the other flowers were thriving by picking minor weeds and watering. If I had the choice, I’d do maintenance with each differing flower patch every day for extensive hours. Alas, I knew I couldn’t.

I sensed the maids nearing the greenhouse, their bodies shadows along the trees. They kept their distance from the entrance and waited along the sidewall.

Maids and guardians had designated places they couldn’t enter. They were never allowed within our hideouts and hovered nearby to grab our attention when needed. The garden was strictly prohibited for any of them to enter, including my brothers. Just like I respected their safe havens, the least they could do was respect mine for the time being.

Yet, there was always a routine to uphold. The maid’s arrival signified that my time in the greenhouse had come to an end and that I had demands to uphold for the early afternoon.

Specifically, one demand I was dreading.

The maids rapidly vanished after finishing their duties, and I kept a steady pace to meet Tristan outside the greenhouse. His competence was why I sought him out of all the guardians. He was an essential ally after our mother’s passing, one that cemented the little authority I held in this household.

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