Prologue
I. The Visit
The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now.
The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.
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She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.
“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.
“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”
“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.
“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.
“Neither did you.”
She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.
“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”
She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.
I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon--Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020
