Chapter 145 The Garden Memory
The memorial garden dedicated to Celeste sat in the palace's eastern corner, carefully maintained but rarely visited. White roses climbed stone trellises. Marble benches surrounded a central fountain where a plaque bore the late Queen's name and dates.
Lila had avoided this place for weeks. Something about it felt wrong, heavy with grief and secrets she couldn't quite grasp. But Theo had begged her to come, insisted they plant flowers together like his mother used to do with him when he was smaller.
"Mama loved gardening," Theo explained, leading her by the hand through the garden gate. "She said flowers made sad places beautiful again."
Two guards followed at a respectful distance, never quite out of sight. Adrian's orders. Lila had grown accustomed to their presence, though it still felt strange being watched constantly.
"What kind of flowers should we plant?" Lila knelt beside a bare patch of earth near the fountain.
"Blue ones. Mama liked blue." Theo plopped down beside her, already digging in the dirt with his small hands. "Miss Clara says I'm too young to remember Mama properly. But I do remember. I remember her singing. And her perfume. It smelled like roses but sweeter."
A gardener had left supplies nearby: small pots of winter-blooming violets, trowels sized for adult and child hands, watering cans. Lila selected a trowel and began loosening the soil.
"Your mother would be proud of you. You're very brave, wanting to make this place beautiful for her."
"I'm not brave. I just miss her." Theo's small face was serious as he dug. "Do you miss her?"
"Yes. She was my sister. We didn't always agree, but I loved her." The words were true despite the complicated tangle of emotions Celeste's memory evoked.
They worked in companionable silence, planting violets in careful rows. The scent of disturbed earth mixed with the ever-present perfume of roses. Winter sun filtered through bare branches, cold but bright.
Theo chatted while they worked, his three-year-old observations ranging from serious to silly. "Do you think Mama can see us? From heaven?"
"I think she can."
"Then she knows I'm being good. And that you're helping me. She'd like that." Theo patted dirt around a violet with intense concentration. "She used to say family was important. That we should take care of each other."
Lila's chest tightened. "She was right about that."
"Are you part of our family now? Papa says you're important. And I drew you in the picture with us."
"I'm... it's complicated, Theo."
"Why do adults always say that?" Theo's frustrated tone made her smile despite the ache in her chest. "You're either family or you're not. That's simple."
"You're right. You're absolutely right." Lila touched his dirt-smudged cheek gently. "I hope I can be part of your family. I want that very much."
"Good. Then it's decided." Theo returned to his planting with satisfaction.
They finished the row of violets and moved to prepare another bed. Lila reached for a watering can, but as she turned, her sleeve caught on a rose trellis. Thorns scraped her arm, drawing blood.
The scent hit her immediately. Blood and roses mixed together, metallic and sweet and wrong.
The world tilted.
“This same garden, but summer-bright. Roses in full bloom, their scent overwhelming. Lila standing alone, staring at freshly turned earth where they'd buried Celeste just days before.“
“A voice behind her. Cold and accusing.“
"You're here already. Couldn't even wait a week before staking your claim on what was mine."
Lila spun around. Celeste stood there. But that was impossible. Celeste was dead. Buried beneath the roses they'd planted in her honor.
A woman who looked like Celeste. Same golden hair. Same green eyes. But wrong somehow. Twisted. Her smile was cruel.
"I know what you want," the voice continued. "My husband. My son. My life. You think because he's your mate, you have a right to everything I built. But you'll never replace me. Never. Even dead, I'll always be between you."
"This isn't real," Lila whispered. "You're not Celeste."
"I'm what Celeste became. Bitter. Jealous. Knowing her husband could never love her because of you. I'm the ghost that will haunt you forever. Every time you look at Adrian, you'll see my face. Every time you hold Theo, you'll remember he's mine, not yours. You'll never escape me."
The vision laughed, the sound echoing off stone walls. Then it dissolved like smoke, leaving Lila alone with the roses and the smell of blood.
"Aunt Lila?"
Theo's voice pulled her back. She gasped, her knees hitting the garden path. The watering can dropped from her hands, spilling across the stones.
"Aunt Lila, what's wrong? You went all white." Theo's small hands touched her face with concern beyond his years.
"I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter. "Just felt dizzy for a moment. The sun..."
But it wasn't the sun. It was memory. Or hallucination. Or some twisted combination created by guilt and fear and
poison that had warped her mind for four years.
You'll never replace me.