CHAPTER 1
The sun was setting as supper was served.Pinks and oranges filled the sky, and therewere little, puffy clouds, which made it that much more beautiful.It was the day of my fifth birthday.
While I was outside playing with our cat, Mother called me in towash up. As I ran toward the castle, a huge smile spread across myface. I ran up the steps, and when I arrived at the door, my mothergave me a squeeze and kissed my forehead.
My mother was beautiful. Her hair was golden like the sun, andher eyes were a deep sea-blue color. She was tall and elegant. Thatday, she was wearing a purple gown with beaded flowers. When sheheld me, I loved running my fingers over the beads on her gown.
The castle had big, heavy wooden doors. Sometimes I had adifficult time opening them by myself. There were stairways thatled to different parts of the castle, which had many rooms. I hadno idea what was in most of them. Papa did business in a few of theextra rooms, and Mother painted in one. I liked to watch Motherpaint.
Numerous paintings were displayed throughout the castle,especially in the hallway that ran from the foyer to the dining room.A row of paintings of our family hung along the wall, beginningwith a picture of my great-great-great-grandpa and ending with apicture of me. The newest painting, a likeness of me that had beenpainted for my birthday, was hung before dinner. I had to wear niceclothes that morning for the artist to paint the picture of me. I worea loose-fitting light blue dress shirt with black pants. Mother saidthe blue brought out my eyes.
It was the last painting on the wall, and it was the first one ofme alone. We had many paintings done of my parents and me, so itwas weird standing there all alone, posing by myself. But it meantthat I was growing up.
I walked past the paintings and into the dining room, wherePapa was already seated at the head of the table. The dining tablewas located by the windows on the right side of the room. I lovedhaving the windows open, because the smell of roses drifted intothe room.
The table was huge. It could fit up to twenty people—I counted!While we rarely had more than just Papa, Mother, and me for dinner,we had almost every seat filled a few times.
On the left side of the room was a fireplace, with a couch and achair in front of it. At times, after dinner, we would sit by the fireto relax. Mother would sometimes read a book to me while Papasmoked his pipe in his chair. I hated the smell of that thing. Papasmoked less after he discovered that I really disliked it. Secretly,Mother hated it too.
People always said that I was the spitting image of Papa. Theonly difference between Papa and me was that I had short brownhair, while he had long brown hair. His eyes were the color of theclouds on a gloomy day, but they would change from grey to bluedepending on what he was wearing. Mother said that I had her eyesbut was definitely my father's son.
As I looked around the room and inhaled the intoxicatingaroma of the roses, Mother came in with a vase of deep-red rosesin her hands. She set the vase on the table. Mother smiled at me asshe did this. She knew how much I loved the scent.
She kissed my father before sitting down next to him. Myparents were very much in love. Anyone who came in contact withthem, even someone just passing by, could easily see that. Theyaffected many people around them in a positive way. Never had Iseen love like theirs, which made me want the same when I grewup.
My parents wanted me to be more than a rich kid. They wantedme to be intelligent, so I was homeschooled. I had a private tutornamed Chapin. He knew just about everything there was to know.I'd had a private tutor since I was three. The strange thing wasthat I actually liked learning. Sometimes at night, when I could notsleep, I would go to our library and read.
Our library was huge. It was located upstairs above the diningroom and was a total of four stories high. There were probably overtwenty thousand books. Mother would read to me in the library afew nights a week; she had done so for as long as I could remember.I loved reading any book I could get my hands on. Our librarian,Audric, grabbed the books off the shelves when they were too highfor me to reach.
Audric was a studious old man. His hair was as white as freshlyfallen snow. He told me to read a lot of books, not only to learnbut also to exercise my imagination. It was always interesting totalk with him. He was silly at times. After I finished studying forthe day, I would talk to him about different books, and he wouldrecommend ones that I should read when I grew older.
Sometimes I would sneak a book from the library into my roomat night. After my mother said good night, I would relight a candleso that I would be able to read the book by candlelight. I had beenin trouble before for doing that. But I still did it anyway.
The library, like the hallway to the dining room, had paintingsin it. These paintings were of landscapes and houses instead ofour family. There were times when I would just stare at them anddaydream about being in them. My favorite painting in the librarywas of a house—the Rose House, as I called it.
The Rose House had a roof made of dark wood, while the houseitself was tan, with a brown front door. Also, there was a windownot too far from the door, with deep-blue shutters. My favoritething about it was that there were roses everywhere. They notonly surrounded the base of the house but also grew up the sidesof the house. There were red, bright pink, yellow, white, violet, andmulticolored roses. The house was surrounded by tall trees, whichmade it look as though it were situated in front of a forest.
Whenever I set foot in the library, Audric or one of the othersworking in there would open the windows for me so that the scentof the roses would rush in and fill the room. Even though the librarywas on the second floor, I could smell the roses' scent in the room.Surrounded by the smell, I would close my eyes, pretending that Iwas at the Rose House. I had always wanted to go there. But I wasnot sure if the house was a real house or just a painting. At night,sometimes I dreamed about the Rose House. I wished it were real!
Before I walked to the table, where my parents were sitting,I walked over to the window. Once there, I opened it a little moreand then turned toward my parents. One of our maids, Deleena,started to bring out dinner. Deleena had brown eyes and shortdark brown hair. She was shorter than Mother was, but her heartwas just as big.
"Come on over, darling—time to eat!" Mother informed me.
"What is for dinner, Mother?" I asked.
"Your favorite, Son!" Papa chimed in.
"Yum!" I said as I rushed to the table.
My favorite meal was rabbit and mutton with onions andpotatoes. It was accompanied by warm white bread. Really, I enjoyedany type of game, but rabbit was my favorite. Papa said that notmany people were able to eat rabbit, only those with money. Breadwas something that I ate often. Honestly, I could have eaten it atevery meal. In fact, when I wanted a snack, I would have hot teaalong with bread, enjoying time with Mother and Papa.
I sat on Papa's right-hand side, across the table from Mother. AsI sat down, Mother smiled, so I grinned, with my two front teethmissing, back at her, which made her giggle.
Deleena brought out the food, kissed my forehead, and wishedme a happy birthday. Our maids and other workers in...
