I am at the airport. I do not remember the last time I was in one, much less alone. I was very young, but I did not travel alone. This is yet another new experience for me. I hope it goes well, unlike what I expect it to. It is not that I am afraid of flying or heights, oh no, that would be impossible with my soul. It is just that I am afraid of large crowds. Throughout my whole life I have been extremely uncomfortable in crowds of any size. So much so that I am very susceptible to violent, overpowering panic attacks.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle; may I see your tickets?" A young, pretty, cheerful woman in a nice suit asks.
"But of course, Madame," I say as I produce the items she has requested with a flourish, making them appear as if by magic.
She looks at them and says, "Straight ahead. A flight attendant will direct you to your seat once on board. Thank you, please come again."
"Your welcome."
I must have fallen asleep, for I am awakened by the sound of someone announcing that the plane is about to land at our destination. I feel cramped and sore. Why wouldn't I? They don't usually build planes for people as tall as I am…
Someone is waving at me and holding a sign that reads "Aria Guirre" as I exit the gate and enter the terminal building proper. A strangled whisper escapes my lips: "Me?" I head towards the person with the sign. I am unsure about this. What if they are an assassin or a kidnapper? But how could they be? Very few people know or knew when or where I was going exactly.
"My Lady, Aria," the person says as they bow. Underneath my mask, which I have worn in order to not frighten the other people traveling or those around me. The person is actually a teenaged boy. "I am Marcus Guirre-de Chey, you may call me Marcus. I have come to take you to the house you own down here. It is yours, but your grandpa, Pierre, has leased it to my branch of the family for years on the condition that we maintain the house and grounds, not to mention to also allow your family line to stay if ever they so wish. I assume your parents are dead?"
"No," I reply. "They have been expelled from the family for their treatment of me. I am now head of the Guirre line." And in my soul and mind I can hear Erik say, "once again".
"So you are the new Comtess de Guirre?"
"Yes."
"Follow me, milady," he quips. We exit the airport and enter a limo. "To the estate."
The mansion, I am told, is named Roselawn. It is very beautiful, vines covering the stone walls. It feels cozy, like a cottage.
"Welcome to Roselawn, which you own and shall stay here," M. Guirre-de Chey announces as I step out of the long car.