CHAPTER 1 The Sword on the Mantle
October 15th 1673
England
My name is Amena Lea Certe. I was born in France on February 6th 1652. These writings are not intended for sympathy or for sorrow. I want nothing from you, but for you to know the truth. My husbands name is Kori Certe. We met while I was in schooling at Universite de Paris. But none of that matters now, as I may never see him again...
"Good morning, my lady. How are you this morning?" my maid, Eliza, set a tray of pastries on my nightstand. Suddenly my room flooded with light. I groaned."Up, up, you know what your mother always says?A lazy cat never got his breakfast. That'll be you if you aren't up soon, the eggs are getting cold."
"Fine, I'm up. I wish to wear the gold gown with the French lace corset today."
"Oh? Special occasion, my Lady?"
"Of course. I'm getting married."
The people gawked at my wedding gown, it's crisp folds and ribbons aligning perfectly at my hip. My ebony skin was glowing, surrounded by perfect curls of gold down my waist. I wasn't even nervous that day. After the ceremony, we shared a deep and passionate kiss at the door, and words were no longer needed to tell our feelings. At that moment, I knew I would be okay. We danced to violins, and drank wine; laughing all night about the future we would share.
In the the following morning, I was forced to wake early again. My parents had to have me sign a contract to rightfully own a mansion they were purchasing for Kori and I. The tapping of my heels on the marble stairway startled me. This morning I was jumpy, for it was the first time I would be away from home for longer than a weekend.
"There she is my beautiful little girl. But so grown up, going off married at twenty one-" My mother was sobbing on our sofa. Trying not to cry was difficult now, but my father had always told me " no matter what, strength inside can succeed any fear."
My father died when I was five. His name was Enroi. My mother's name was Alrai, which I always thought funny because they sounded and looked so alike. To add to that, they also looked and sounded alike as beings. Sometimes looking at my mother makes me sad because of it, but whenever I am sad, I think of what he told me. He died in an attack by two highwaymen one night when he was coming home late from work.
"Darling, are you ready to see the house?" Kori took my hand and guided my gracefully into the parlor. A few papers were scattered on a table, however he quickly seized them and tucked them into his jacket pocket. A coach awaited us outside. It didn't take us long to arrive at our new home. I couldn't force a fake smile into place anymore. On the cobblestone terrace I cried until I was emotionally empty. Kori sat next to me the whole time, whispering our dreams into my ear. Then I snapped back to normal and decided it was time to see inside.
A grand staircase had a velvet rug rolled down the center of the evenly cut limestone steps. A railing spun down either side and met a marble floor below. The ceilings had painting on them of dragons and fish, princesses and warriors. Soaring stained glass windows gave the impression of a church, along with the appearance of the towers from the third floor. A sword rested on the mantle in the other room. Though it was dusty and old, I could tell it had been used. A cut emerald rested in the center of the hilt. The blade was sharp and black like obsidian. I delicately ran my index finger across the blade. But it was only moments before I felt dizzy and saw a swelling drop of blood on my finger. The last thing I saw was Kori running to catch me as I fell onto the floor.