Emaline's eyes fluttered open. She stared at her domed ceiling. Her eyes slowly ran over all the tiny cherubs and roses that she had over the years gotten used to seeing every morning. Taking in the sound of birds singing and her father yelling, both things she was used to waking up to, she stretched her arms high above her. She narrowed her sea green eyes as she swung her feet out of bed and walked to her balcony window where brilliant gold sunlight streamed in. The sun was shining fierce fully over the city of Verona and, as her father always said, the sky was awake so she should be awake. She scanned the ground, watching the common people go about their business. Some were buying groceries at the outdoor market, while children played in the grassy courtyard of the Montague estate. She couldn't help but smile to herself at the sight of the normality of the day, while her life was anything but.
Living in one of the most prestigious families had shaped her attitude. Her heart longed for the chance to live a normal life. A life where you had to work for what you wanted. A life where you were expected to go to the market every morning and bargain with the shopkeepers. She wanted nothing more than to live in a world where her parents did not forbid her from going into town unless escorted by a man of rank or prestige. Emaline was not grateful.
"Emaline! Come down here now!" Her father called, shaking her out of her reverie. She turned hastily from her sun-lit balcony and jogged down the stairs.
"Yes, father?" She asked reaching the dining hall.
"Oh yes, you have a visitor. I believe it is that Capulet boy, quite a chap isn't he, dear?" He said barely looking up. Her eyes lit up and she turned and ran for the door.
"Emaline! EMALINE! You can't go out looking like that!" Her mother called from the stairs, "We have a reputation to uphold!"
Emaline stopped in her tracks and turned toward the staircase. "Mother, I have a robe on," She said as she flung the large mahogany door open.
The sun hit Kenton and made a sort of halo around him. His dark brown chestnut hair and tall build made him look years older, though he was only sixteen. His footsteps reverberated around the small porch as he paced back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed. Emaline smiled to herself at the sight of him and his worried antics. He brought his hand up and started on his thumbnail. He had the worst habit of chewing his fingernails, making them all jagged.
"What are you doing Kenton Capulet?" She laughed. His head shot up and a smile broke across his face. He stepped forward with his giant stride and grabbed her into a tight embrace. "I thought you'd never answer!" He said into her rust shaded hair.
She looked into his bright cerulean blue eyes and felt herself smiling wider than she had in days. "Would I ever not answer?" She asked, playfully shoving him.
"Get a room!" Her cousin, Bristol, called from the entrance hall. Kenton's cheeks turned a dark shade of scarlet and he let out a short nervous laugh.
Emaline grasped his hand and led him into the house. "Come. Before we go out into the city, I must get dressed," She said, leaving him in the middle of the wide entry room and sprinting up the stairs. "You stay here, and, erm, admire the paintings!"
She entered her bedroom and threw on the first dress she saw: a light blue flowing skirt with a white and black bodice. The skirt fell right below her knees and was quite scandalous for their city. Emaline had a habit of pushing the limits of the social standards.
She hesitated in her mirror, attempting to flatten her bedhead before surrendering to a comb. Her auburn hair fell around her face in thick curled tendrils and reached the small of her back. Smiling at herself in the mirror she felt a sort of euphoria flow over her and she squealed at the aspect of her going out into the city.
She hurriedly tugged on a pair of black satin slippers. From downstairs she could hear her mother telling Kenton the history of the paintings in their hall, a lecture she could recite in her sleep, she'd heard it so many times.
Emaline tripped out of her doorway, shoving discarded clothing into the middle of her room and hauled her dark oak door shut. She stopped at the top of the staircase and watched as her mother showed Kenton a painting of one of the previous Italian monarchs. He nodded along with her, occasionally asking questions. She could see from here that he was soaking up the information, memorizing it. Kenton was full of useless information, like how much oil their city used in a month, or the lifespan of a butterfly. He never forgot anything.
Emaline jogged down the stairs, running her hand over the cool wood of their banner, feeling the grain of the wood beneath her fingers. Her footsteps reverberated throughout the entry hall as she stepped onto their marble floor. She looped her arm through Kenton's and listened to the end of her mother's speech. "He was quite a fellow, you see, a real lady-killer. I'm quite certain he actually had more than six wives!" Emaline rolled her eyes and made a mental note to check with the pope to see if such was true.
"That was very fascinating, Lady Montague. I hadn't heard nearly any of those stories of King Phillip before," Kenton praised.
Lady Montague smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It was a pleasure telling you, dear. Now, you and Emaline better be off before you lose any more daylight!" She said ushering them to the door.