Michelle Filer
The Embers
Bixbirnum Septim 3, 746
Dear Sir,
I hope this letter finds you at the bottom of a bog, drowning in a river, or in the middle of a long lecture from your father.
After your horse passed through our gates, I simply forgot your existence. It wasn’t until your last letter arrived that I was jolted from this happy state.
I burned it.
I have the honor to remain your obedient servant,
Ms. Maelin Gentileschi
~~~
Azundry Septim 7, 746
Dearest M,
My thanks for your warm welcome and your even warmer farewell. Your hospitality was all that a baker’s son could ever ask for. If you see our mutual friend, please give him my greetings and well wishes and do send word. Remember the concerns that we discussed.
For my next visit, I hope that you choose to wear that purple dress again. Not that I was looking anywhere untoward–certainly not–I had simply noticed the deep color of your gown and found myself entranced.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
X. Baker
~~~
Bixbirnum Septim 12, 746
Dear Mr. Baker,
I wrote my entire name for a reason. Please use it.
Not that I should expect any better from you. I do remember a time when you used the description “toddler’s fare” for the masterpiece bodice I’d spent months embroidering. I don’t forget, as I’m sure you remember.
Additionally, since you are so eager to know, I did in fact run into our friend. Quite literally. He spilled his brandy on my best purple frock and ruined it, despite my maid Abra’s best efforts (condolences that it will not be at our next meeting, if that is to ever happen, which seems unlikely). However, he seemed just as interested in that dress as you. Then he asked of my father and the business. I told him shipping—even of Embers—was dreary and I had no wish to speak of it. He still seemed interested.
I have already written more of this than I can bear. Please write to me no longer.
Your humble obedient servt.,
Ms. Maelin Gentileschi
~~~
Azundry Septim 16, 746
Dearest M,
My thoughts are with your purple frock. I have sung the proper mourning songs and lit candles for its passing. I pray for a replacement that is its equal.
As for our friend, I hope he destroys no more of your dresses and inquires no more into your father’s business, for I know how that bores you, even if your father’s Ember business is the source of your many frocks and soft pillows. Many years have passed since I have been able to speak to our friend, but when you see him again, please do pass along my regards. I’m sure he would be happy to hear of me, though he has nothing left of mine to ruin.
My dearest M, I know that your father frowns upon our correspondence and our own friendship has frayed in the time since we spent our days in the same city, but I wish you to know how much I look forward to your letters and any kindness you bestow upon me. Our friend may be responsible for our separation, but it pains me that we haven’t been able to find another way.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
X
PS-Your memory is too long and wildly uncharitable! “Toddler’s fare” were the words of an immature youth unable to tell you how he really felt. I hope you also remember the many times I’ve complimented your embroidery in the manner your skill deserves.
~~~
Bixbirnum Septim 23, 746
Dear Mr. Baker,
While it is surely no matter to you since you have refused to use my current name, I wish you to know that I am to have a new one. Our friend came to dinner last night under the guise of learning more about the Ember trade and expressing interest in my father’s personal collection of specialty Embers. I suffered through the long discussion of shipping regulations, directions for handling the most volatile Embers, and current major trade partners. I’m sure you’ll be proud of me for how I smiled through a tour of my father’s Embers encased behind glass (the tour has grown even longer since Father took you on the tour–there’s a new one that Father even says can allow you to transport yourself from one place to another), and I only pulled faces when I was sure no one but Abra was looking. But, as I should have guessed, our friend followed our meal by requesting a meeting with my father. As you know, Father has been unwell and has been speaking increasingly of my marriage. I am now to be Duchess Ferness.
The engagement isn’t to be long. I will be spending the time at my father’s summer estate in the country, where we used to play as children. I know it’s been years since you’ve been back. I’m sure that it will hurt to see your father’s bakery under new ownership, but if you would like to see my purple frock’s replacement, I will be hosting social calls there every day midmorning. I should be arriving within the week. My future husband will be staying here in the city for a month to finalize business or some other dull endeavor. Anyone wishing to see me alone would do best to come before he returns to the country.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M
~~~
Azundry Septim 27, 746
My Dearest Almost Duchess,
A title! What a boon to your family. Though I would have called you a duchess if only you had asked.
Holo is undeserving of the great luck of having a wife such as yourself. His family could gain no higher honor than to have you join it.
I plan to be at your father’s house the day you arrive. Look for me then.
Ever your servant,
X
~~~
Gaxony Septim 29, 746
Xavier,
No, no, no. Don’t come. I just got word that he’s right now en route to my father’s estate. It’s not safe for you.
M
~~~
Gaxony Octus 5, 746
Dear Mr. Baker,
Showing up to kidnap me? With a weapon? What did you think was going to happen? It was lucky that my fiancé arrived when he did! I shake to imagine what would have happened otherwise. Imagine the marks that your pots and pans could have made to a blushing bride-to-be! And bringing your friends with you. How dare they accompany you with walking sticks and hunting knives during a long journey!
I hope your new accommodations are to your liking. Please let me or the Prison Commander know if there is anything that you require. The hangings of your men—or your well-armed henchmen, as my fiancé refers to them to the public—were well-attended and I took pains to ensure a respectful process. Their bodies were treated properly and returned to their families, which I hope shall be a comfort to you while you await your own trial.
I have bought a new purple frock. If you look for me in the gallery at the courthouse, you will be able to see it. Tell me how you like it.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
Ms. Maelin Gentileschi
~~~
Gaxony Dungeon Octus 5, 746
Dear Ms. Gentileschi,
The trial quickly approaches and I will look for you, though I cannot imagine you would look anything less than the Duchess you are to be.
I grieve for my friends and know their blood is on my hands. My remorse thickens in the darkness of my cell. I have little hope of making it through this.
Please pray for me as I do for you, my dear friend.
Your Servant,
X
~~~
Oc. 9/46
X,
Abra has found a way to get this letter directly to you. She has friends with servants across the keep and agreed to do me this favor. Please destroy this as soon as you read it in case someone finds it later.
I am so sorry that I could not warn you in time. I found out too late that Holo was returning early, and my messenger couldn’t reach you in time, but I should have found another way. I should have done more. Your friends’ blood is on my hands, not yours.
And now Holo is trying to turn the town against you. Anyone who could possibly be chosen to be a juror is hearing tales of our childhood and how you and I were teased: The merchant’s daughter and the baker’s son. He is telling them that you came to see me to seduce me and take me away from my betrothed and to break my father’s heart. You know how everyone loves my father (well, that, or relies on him for employment). And it’s working. Of course, it also doesn’t help that it’s not far from the actual truth. But I fear that no one seems to remember what Holo was like as a boy—or maybe just never really knew—and now that he’s inherited his father’s title, his word is God’s.
But I will not allow his slander to work. I am trying to remind the town of how much they loved you by telling them your stories. Remember when you traveled all the way to Noxton so that you could escort Madam Pollix’s daughter through the forest? Remember how you arrived just in time for her daughter to say goodbye just before Madam Pollix passed? No one was as beloved as you! I pray that reminding everyone of you as a beloved gentleman will bring others to your side and erase the memory of Holo’s accusation that forced our separation. I thought at the time—and continue to believe—that everyone knew he simply accused you to divert attention away from himself. We’ll find out now whether I’m right.
I have no access to Father’s purse, nor can I walk through town as freely, especially with the armed guards who now follow my every step–they say it is to protect me from any other would-be-kidnappers, but really they’re just Holo’s spies–but still, I’m working.
I have also been reminding my father of how much he hated Holo and loved you when we were children. Remember how you made him laugh while he ate your father’s apple tarts? He sent me every week to buy more of your father’s date and pistachio pastries. I’m battling against time, but I’m sure he can be convinced. Father seems to grow weaker by the hour while Holo drops hints your trial is still weeks away. Father spends much of his time worrying about the business and telling me of the vultures circling to get their hands on it. He fears that the Embers will get pulled into the weapons trade, which he has tried so hard to prevent, and he hopes that the business will stay within the family or with someone he can trust. The Board will never approve of it passing to his daughter, and he talks of pushing up the wedding so it can pass to Holo. I beg him not to and tell him tales of the ways that Holo could use the Embers. I think he hears me. There is nothing Holo would love more than selling the Embers to arms dealers, and while Father laughed the first time I told him this, the more I tell him the more he listens.
Xavier, my heart won’t stop racing, and my hands have acquired a constant tremor. I am worried for my father’s health while agonizing over whether he’ll move up the wedding. I am terrified for you, my love.
Oh, it’s nice to write those words. Not cloak them in some silly discussion of my purple dress. I still have the one I wore when you kissed me by the river. I’ve been thinking of that moment often, when the leaves were turning and you had just returned from the bakery. Your fingers were sticky with sugar.
I ache to say the words out loud one more time.
I will find a way, Xavier. I know you have no reason to maintain your faith in me after I let you walk into that trap, but I hope you will.
All my love,
M
~~~
Oc. 13/46
X,
As much as I have been working to spread your stories through the town, I have heard little indication that anyone is turning on Holo. No one seems inclined to believe that Holo sabotaged your apprenticeship at my father’s company or ruined your inheritance. I had been afraid of telling stories of Holo’s childhood, worried that no one would believe me. Why would anyone believe me when I tell them of how their Duke had forced us to watch as he beat that servant boy? If they’ve denied and dismissed so much, would they really care that your exile to Azundry is a result of Holo casting blame on you for what happened at the tavern? At the time, I was so sure that everyone saw through Holo’s pointed finger and had known that he had been the one to rob the tavern and leave the barman nearly for dead. Maybe they’ve forgotten? Either way, reminding them that Holo was irascible and volatile seems only to evoke shrugged shoulders. He’s a duke, they say. That’s the way dukes are.
But, as my friends are spreading our message through the town and Father is confined to his bed, I’m working on a new plan. I won’t write more details here, but Xavier, please know that I won’t give up. I won’t. I will not marry Holo, and I won’t see you dead.
Don’t give up faith.
Love,
M
~~~
Oc. 19/46
X,
I have found a way. My father is on his final breaths, but he can still wield a pen. You don’t mind if he signs his company over to you? Abra has found a lawyer who promises that he knows a law that could save the Embers from Holo and you from the gallows. All we have to pay him with is an Ember, but Abra says no one is paying attention to my father’s collection and can bring him one herself.
Would Holo care about killing you if he is no longer interested in wedding me? Would he want to be my husband if I no longer come with a company? No.
The lawyer says this will work, and I believe it.
M
~~~
Oc. 21/46
X,
Holo has set the time. Tomorrow, just before midday. But my plan is in motion, and the lawyer has done his work well. Look for me in the gallery. Look for the purple dress.
-M
~~~
Gaxony Octus 25, 746
Dear Duchess Ferness,
It is with great relief that I write to you on this day from a room that is not my jail cell. My window is open, and I can feel the sun on my cheeks. This change in my position may well surprise you after you witnessed my trial, as I’m sure you noticed that the evidence did not favor me. But I am here, alive, and well.
I also hear news of your wedding, and I pass along my congratulations. I know you were worried about the possibility of our childhood friend being your husband, but Holo seems to have grown into his role as duke and speaks with the voice of his people. I hope he understands the blessing of having you as his wife.
I hope that the joy of your marital bliss will take the sting away from your father’s passing. He was a good man, and I mourn his death. I hope you find solace in your new husband.
I am with sincere esteem Dear Madam your affectionate humble servt.,
Mr. X. Baker
~~~
Azundry Novum 10, 746
Dear M,
I can’t sleep at night. I can’t focus. The guilt and shame have become a smog that I can’t escape.
Holo discovered your plan. He showed me your father’s signature that revoked Holo’s rights to your father’s business and turned it over to me. You did your job well. Even upon my death, Holo would not get a single cent of his own. But what need have I of money if I am dead? He offered me the chance to walk out of Gaxony alive if I signed to give him back the company. I was weak.
And I was the one who told him that he would want to marry you as soon as possible to prevent another one of your plots. When I try to sleep at night, I see the way he laughed as his lawyer handed me the pen and ink. Alone in the dark, I couldn’t imagine my life ending at the bottom of a rope. So, I signed, even as his laughter burned my ears.
I can’t take back what I have done, but I think of you often.
I am with sincere esteem your affectionate humble servt.,
Xavier
~~~
Azun Nov 13/46
Oh M,
What have I done? Write back. Please, I need to hear from you and know that you’re alright.
X
~~~
Gaxony Fabbiam 12, 747
Dear Sir,
It is with great relief that I write to you from a room that I do not share with my husband. My bed is empty save for me as I lay stretched across the silk pillows. This change in position may well surprise you after you traded your freedom for mine and encouraged my husband to wed me the night after your trial. How devastating for a bride to be married before her flowers have arrived! How astounding to learn so clearly that my freedom was nothing more than a deal between two men.
Sir, it was so gracious of you to share your congratulations with me after my husband had taken me to our marriage bed, an act to which I did not consent. It was also then that I learned of his new ownership of my beloved father’s business and how he was to use it to fill our duchy’s empty coffers, selling Embers to anyone who will pay despite the danger. I’m sure it will be a shock for you—though it was not to me—to learn that it was due to my husband’s profligacy that the duchy’s coffers are empty. It is a balm to my heart that you have given your best for this blessed union.
I hope I will continue to receive your well wishes once you hear how I spent weeks dreaming of ever more elaborate schemes to rid myself of Holo only to use his sword to slit his throat while he slept. My schemes couldn’t survive my anger as he drawled on about the expansion of the Ember trade. I’m sure he didn’t think there was anything I could do to stop him so there was no harm in revealing his plans to me. I proved him wrong.
My dear Abra helped me clean the blood from the floor and hide his body. I’m not sure my husband saw the blessing in being my wife, but at least you did!
Sir, I’m also sure that you have heard the story of the duchy-wide manhunt for my husband, who was nowhere to be found, only for an unlucky tenant to discover the remains of the duke’s head. I am certain you then saw headlines of an investigation that ended in my arrest. Only when they realized that I was carrying the next duke did they stay my execution, though I do not know how long they will let me remain out of my cell once they learn that I have ended my pregnancy.
But you should know, sir, that as long as I have any control of Gaxony, you are not welcome here, and you should not plan on returning for I have drawn up a warrant for your arrest.
I know you wrote your latest letter to share your guilt and shame, as if learning of them will dim my anger. But neither will keep me safe when they come for me; your feeble approaches to an apology will not send me back in time.
I told you to have faith in me.
I told you that I had a plan.
I still hold to the promise that I would not let you die, but I look forward to the day I get to see you rot in my dungeon with nothing but my ridiculous purple dress to keep you warm.
I am with sincere esteem your humble and obedient servt.,
Duchess Maelin Gentileschi
~~~
Gaxony Fabiam 30, 747
Xavier,
Abra tells me not to write again, that you will see the news in the papers and that should be revenge enough. However, no paper could tell you what really happened, whereas I see it every night. The wedding gown, the blood, the guards. Maybe scratching out the details in this letter will relieve them from my eyes.
It was the Embers that saved me. I had convinced the investigators that Abra hadn’t been involved in Holo’s murder, but she always remained under suspicion. While she was able to continue working as my maid, she was no longer allowed to leave the keep, constantly under the eyes of the other servants and guards who clocked her every move. But at least she wasn’t sent to the scaffold. After the investigation, Abra lost most of her allies and friends around the keep, but she still had one ally in the staff who had helped me get access to the herbs I needed to end my pregnancy. But the poor boy, Matheus, was so terrified after that request, that we couldn’t ask him for anything else without feeling monstrous.
So, we spent most days reading and most nights curled in front of the fire. Abra braided my hair while I embroidered a bodice I knew neither of us would ever have an occasion to wear. It would have been cozy if not for the constant thrumming fear and the gallows that awaited me when they found out that I no longer carried Holo’s baby. For weeks, nothing felt real to me but Abra’s fingers in my hair.
But one night, Abra came back from the kitchens with news from poor Matheus. He reported that some man had come to the keep requesting an audience with me, acting desperate and wild. When the man had to be escorted from the keep, Matheus followed and watched him enter a law office looking disheveled and wearied. Alba told me that she thought it must have been the man whose work would have saved you. You remember–the lawyer whose knowledge of the law would have freed you and saved me from this fate. The man whose work you ignored.
Well, Abra had asked Matheus to go back and talk to the man. Matheus had refused. He refused for a week before finally giving in and speaking with Mr. Caselden. This was the first time in months that I had felt any sort of hope, and I paced in front of the fire as I awaited news. To my surprise, when my door next opened, Abra wasn’t alone. The guards had allowed Matheus to enter and his was the first new face I saw in months.
He told us of how Caselden had come to see me over the fear that the Ember we had given him in payment months ago wasn’t stable enough to be in the house where his daughters sleep. He wanted to be rid of it, but didn’t know how to do so safely. He had known my fear of being married to Holo and believed that the Ember could be of some use to me. I will never be able to repay Mr. Caselden, without whom I would likely have died in front of a jeering crowd. Because of him, Abra and I came up with a plan to get past the guards (I didn’t wait to see if they survived, though I pray they did), sneak down the servant’s staircase, and meet Matheus in a cupboard off the kitchens, where he waited with the Ember he had taken from Mr. Caselden.
I had never held an Ember and didn’t know how to transform the substance into something useful. But Abra hadn’t been bored by business discussions or resentful of my father’s prioritization of Embers over me. She hadn’t tuned out the businessmen who came to dinner and talked shop throughout the soup course, the salad, and the entree. She had listened.
In the dark of the cupboard, Matheus opened the lid of the box he’d used to transport the Ember to the keep and the small space lit with the warm glow of the blue Ember. Abra scooped the substance–much stickier and gooier than I had anticipated–out of the box. She held it a moment, staring and still, and I worried for a flash that maybe she didn’t know how to use the Ember and we would be stuck in the keep with more crimes to pay for. But then she smiled at me, tears in her eyes, and started twisting her fingers, the ooze following in loose spirals. She kept twirling the substance until it spun on its own, its color turning orange mixed with lines of gold as it twisted into coils that spun tighter and tighter until Abra suddenly brought her arm down in a slash. The movement took her off balance and she would have fallen to the ground if I hadn’t caught her at the last minute.
All three of us looked at the glowing gold line that hung vertically in the dark of the cell. In the middle, I could see a small opening and through it I could see something green.
Matheus’s mouth was hanging open and I realized that mine was doing the same. But Abra wasn’t so shocked. Instead, she peeled aside the opening so it was large enough to squeeze through. I asked if Matheus wanted to join us. He blinked slowly, clearly struggling to pull his attention away from the Ember portal. Abra repeated my question, but the poor boy shook his head no, backing up against the door. He mumbled something about his mother. I repeated my question one more time, hoping he would change his mind, but he shook his head, firmly this time. He said that Abra had helped his little sister survive last year’s fever and he would have done anything for her, but he can’t leave his family.
Despite my fear for Matheus and the blood on my hands, I nodded and took Abra’s hand. We walked through the opening. I don’t know how to confirm that his life wasn’t forfeit by coming to our aid, but I hold onto hope that he is safe with his mother and sister.
I won’t tell you where we landed but know that, for now, I’m safe from eyes that know my crimes. I don’t know how long that will last or how long I can bear the heaviness of those who I’ve hurt. But Abra helps me bear the weight and kisses me even knowing what I’ve done. She tells me that sometimes this is what it takes to survive.
Do you have anyone to help you hold up the weight? I can’t decide if I wish you to be buried alive or to learn the relief of having a partner.
Despite the days I miss the hours I spent writing you letters, mostly my anger is so wide and bright that it explodes from my ribs. Abra has tried to tell me that my anger is misdirected and Holo deserves it far more than you and he is now dead, but my rage feels endless and I have plenty for both of you. I wonder if I have space for forgiveness. I can’t feel it right now, but maybe someday.
As I write this, the candlestick is low and the flame is guttering, but my thoughts feel quieter. When I get into bed next to Abra, I will feel her fingers in my hair and her lips on my neck and the shadows will subside, if only for a moment.
Farewell, Xavier,
Maelin
Michelle Filer (she/her) lives with her dog and husband in Massachusetts where she teaches high school history, which means she’s very good at laughing at her own jokes and believing in the power of stories. This is her debut publication.
