Eternal Obsession Chapter One
JADEON
“It’s down to us, Alex,” I warned my younger brother. “We must save the castle. Pirates are scaling the wall. We fight for honor.”
At the age of ten years, I often gained great delight in teasing Alex. I held the telescope up to my eye, and from my bedroom window viewed the still waters spreading out beyond the castle. It was late evening, and I watched my younger brother beside me pull on his dress shirt, readying for dinner.
“Jadeon!” He tugged at the telescope. “Let me see.”
“Pirates.”
Alex grabbed the telescope. He too scanned the horizon, and on seeing nothing but a calm sea, agreed with me.
We both ran out of the room carrying our wooden swords with us, down the dark corridors, past the armory, and out under the stone archway onto the large granite steps leading to the grassy lawn.
We made our way down to the rocky reef below, hidden behind the castle walls.
The sea crashed against the rocks. The moon reflected off its mutable surface.
Here, at the water’s edge, we fought with our swords swaying this way and that, taking on the imaginary pirates one by one, using our weapons masterfully.
Each blissful memory blended into innocent days interfused with one another as we shared willingly in everything.
I was similar to our father, with his dark complexion and deep brown eyes, tall in stature for one so young, and in temperament intensely serious and passionate.
My brother, with his short blond curls and cherubic appearance, had inherited our mother’s fairness of skin and her crystal blue eyes.
His nature was similar too, quiet and thoughtful, yet spontaneous and vibrant.
He looked up to me and relied upon my guidance in all things.
Perhaps this dependence was exaggerated because of our father’s interminable distance toward us.
Lord William Artimas, our father and master of the castle, always seemed otherwise detained or distracted.
He would disappear for weeks at a time on important state affairs, only to return to the castle disquieted and just as aloof.
Very often, I would wait by his study on his return, hoping to catch a moment of his time, only to be shooed away by Arthur, his personal secretary.
Father would frequently pass us along the corridors without a second glance, his mind so focused on serious matters.
Lord Artimas was an intimidating presence.
At six-foot-three, he held an imperious demeanor—a dark and thoughtful face often frowning with the worries of running the large estate and the people who lived there.
Despite this, he was a loving father when he had the time, and his attentions, though brief, were of an encouraging nature.
He would always appear delighted when we were presented to him on evenings when his commitments would allow, and he reveled in each new skill we had mastered.
Lady Anna Beth Artimas, our doting mother, always seemed without a worry and kept busy with the day-to-day pleasures of the castle, entertaining their friends and visitors.
Our mother liked to ensure her sons received an education fit for the lords we would one day become, and a spontaneous visit to our classroom was not unusual.
She often pulled us enthusiastically outside to view the blossoming of a new flower or the arrival of a grand ship within view of the castle, only to send us back into the classroom again to continue with our studies.
Lady Artimas’ closest ally was Sara De Mercy, the wife of Father Edward De Mercy of the Parish Marazion.
The two had grown close as friends while their husbands were engrossed in business, and they could be seen whispering or laughing in corners of the castle, taking a turn around the great hall during banquets, or sitting together at the grand castle dinners.
They had found solace in each other’s company, and their temperaments suited one another.
The De Mercys had two daughters—a newborn and Catherine, who was a year younger than me.
Catherine looked forward to her weekly visits to the castle and enjoyed the short but adventurous boat trip out to the island.
She was often placed beside us at gatherings.
She was the image of her mother, possessing her large grey eyes, fair skin, and blond curls cascading down her back.
To us, she appeared angelic, and while at times we were apprehensive she would disturb our robustious play, she was always a worthy advocate.
Catherine, not content with running away as a frightened damsel from deadly, make-believe dragons, soon took up her own wooden sword—one of my discarded toys—and fought the imagined serpents as well, much to our delight.
She often took her meals and even her lessons with us.
Although this turn of events was most unusual and potentially scandalous, it neither deterred nor prevented the three of us from spending such time together, as our mothers had encouraged.
Soon, we were inseparable when Catherine visited the island.