PROLOGUE
Agonizing wails streamed into the empty corridor, with a few panicked voices and disturbing creaking and clunking noises behind closed doors. Many women in dirty, blood-soaked nurse garments filtered through the maze of doors and hallways. The noise of the screams drowned out the nurse’s hurried footsteps as they entered the room that held the source of the painful convulsions.
A young boy, no more than six or seven, carefully swept his wheat-colored hair out of view and drug an ink-filled quill over a torn parchment. He found himself alone, just a door down from the continued noises, though he hardly paid them any mind, and continued with his drawing. His strokes were lazy, yet methodical, slowly depicting a large man holding a crown above his head.
The boy was disrupted by the sudden sound of quick-paced footsteps and abruptly stopped his quill stroke. The blond boy’s body spun around, slowly sliding out of his chair, a worried look soon plaguing his face as he anticipated the arrival of the quick-footed person. The heavy wooden door swung open as if it were about to topple over, perhaps it was. The new guest was a heaving, black-haired boy, and through the freckles that danced around on his face as he cried and the tear stains on his tunic, the blond-haired boy could easily recognize him as his younger brother. The black-haired boy was similar in age to the blond boy, a few years younger, however. The black-haired boy didn’t speak and just hobbled over to the blond-haired boy, his body racked with waves of sobbing. Within a few shared breaths, they both sank to the floor. The blond boy gripped his quill tightly with both hands, plagued with what he knew too well, the cause for all those tears, and took in deep breaths, trying to remain composed. The blond-haired boy’s last-ditch effort was to occupy his mind with his drawing, shakily removing his brother’s grasp on his clothes, and returning to the desk, and abandoning his brother on the floor. The drawing didn’t aid the blond-haired boy all that much, and his soft crying was causing the ink to smear.
The sudden and harsh sound of a door swinging open caused the black-haired boy to hurry to their door, placing an ear against the surface. It was quickly realized by the black-haired boy that the door was too hard to hear clearly from, and the black-haired boy opened the door, peering out into the hallway. What he laid his eyes on were three women, each dressed in what was once a pale blue garment, now stained a deep red, who were walking with grim faces into a room on the other end of the corridor. The black-haired boy’s grey eyes scanned the scene before him. His father, broad-shouldered, and pale as a ghost, came marching out of the same room as the nursemaids. Quickly the boy ducked back in and scrambled to his brother’s side, hoping he hadn’t been seen, “Father’s come out,” he tried to relay the news to his elder brother.
The blond-headed boy turned around, tossing his quill aside angrily before he turned on his younger brother. “Esmond, leave Father be, don’t be a bother!” The blond-haired boy’s voice rang through the cluttered study. He seemed to be more on edge than usual, wiping away the tears from his wet cheek.
“I didn’t Cas-” said Esmond, the younger boy, his voice still shaking from the continuous crying.
Cassidy, the blond-haired boy, took a sharp breath, whipping his head back around to the door as it burst open to reveal a pale-as-a-ghost man. “Boys, your mother is dead,” Their father held himself still, “I will be in my study, say your goodbyes and pay no mind to the new child,” he paused, turning back around to leave the room, “Cassidy, meet me when you’re done.” The large man turned to leave as swiftly as he came in soon after he finished speaking, only stopped by a small voice.
“Name?”
Their father turned, eyes looking for whoever decided to speak. “Who’s?” He barked back, standing over the small children.
“The… the baby?” Cassidy whispered, wiping tears and hair off his face.
Their father paused, taking in a deep breath, “Kaine,” he spoke the words breathlessly before taking his leave.
The boys looked between themselves, watching the brooding man leave before they, in turn, left the dimly lit study. They each went their separate ways. Esmond, the black-haired boy, left in the direction of his newly deceased mother, wailing as he walked. Cassidy, on the other hand, walked expressionless away. He couldn't bare to have the image of his dead Mother stained into his mind forever, and walked numbly in the direction of his Father's study.
