“Thank you for doing this, Emile,” Artemisia said as the two of
them lingered on the back patio of the manor. “You explained
everything so clearly to me, and with such patience.”
“Huh?” Emile looked a little startled, before smiling. “No, it
was my pleasure. I’m surprised you were able to keep up.”
“I did feel at some points as if I should be taking notes.”
“Haha!”
“Really, you’d make a good teacher.”
Emile giggled again. “What an odd thing to say.”
“You know,” Emile began,
tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “If you don’t
mind me speaking plainly, you’ve become much friendlier
after losing your memories.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. We didn’t exactly… get
along, before. We never had a bad relationship, but you preferred to
keep your distance from me.”
“Did I? Do you know why?”
“Oh, I had a theory, but…” Emile fiddled with her hair again.
“Never mind, forget I said anything.”
“No, you can tell me. I won’t be offended, I promise.”
“Hmmm.” Emile gave Artemisia a careful look.
“I promise!” Artemisia pretended to look wistful, watching the
sun beginning to creep behind the trees that formed part of the
border of the estate. “Losing my memories… I’ve decided to use
it as an opportunity for self-reflection, so it’s important to me
that I hear about myself from others.”
Actually, that’s complete nonsense, but I hope it sounds
convincing enough.
“Alright, if
you so wish… I thought you
were insecure.”
“You’d been the only daughter
of the house, and then I married Topher, and
I think you
saw me as a threat. I
might only be one year older than you, but by
wedding your older brother, technically that gives me more authority
within the household.”
Wow, she
really didn’t hold back there.
But it makes sense, with what else I’ve learnt of Artemisia. Wait,
did she say she’s only one year older than me? She gives off such a
mature attitude that I thought she was older than that!
Artemisia smoothed her surprised expression. “Thank you for telling
me that, Emile. And, um…”
“…I hope we can get along much better in the future.”
Emile smiled, and it made Artemisia realise that all of the previous
smiles she’d seen from the other woman had been polite,
half-genuine things. “I would like that too.”
?
Artemisia took a deep breath before rapping on the door to
Christopher’s study. For some reason, she felt more anxious about
seeing him than the duke.
Maybe it’s because I’ve had time to build this up in my head?
Ugh, I just need to ask him about this argument, that’s all. Why do
I feel so nervous? Is there some leftover tension in Artemisia’s
body from their fight? Come on, all siblings fight. It’s probably
not that serious.
“I said you could – oh, Arte.”
Whilst Artemisia had been stressing
out in her head, the door before her had opened, revealing a slightly
harried looking Christopher.
His cravat was missing, and the top few buttons of his waistcoat were
undone.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Arte? Hello?” Christopher waved his hand in front of her face.
“Oh! Um, sorry! Are
you busy right now?”
“It’s alright. Come in.”
Christopher’s study was smaller than their father’s but brighter.
The windows faced south, and the furniture was lighter in tone,
giving the room an airy feel. Bookshelves lined one of the walls, a
ladder propped up against them. The desk was side-on to the door, and
there was a pair of seats and a low table in the centre of the room,
giving it a welcoming, open feeling.
“It’s weird that you knocked,” Christopher commented, throwing
himself down on one of the seats. “Just barge in in future –
that’s what you’ve always done.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t hover in the doorway
like that.”
“Sorry!” Artemisia stumbled to sit down.
Christopher hissed. “No, I’m sorry. Things must be really
confusing for you right now.”
“You can say that again.”
“Things must be really confusing
for you right–”
“Hey!”
Christopher laughed. “Alright, what do you want?”
Okay, we’ve
bantered, the nerves have
gone. Let’s get this over with.
“What did the two of us argue about the night of the meteor storm?”
Christopher’s
expression changed, from the loose, easy smile he’d been wearing
before to something much colder and more serious. “That.” He
sprang up from the chair, stalking over to his desk and picking up a
couple of sheets
of paper. There
was tension in the hunch of his back and shoulders.
“That?”
“I don’t think we need to talk about it whilst you’re still
recovering.”
“What does that mean?” Artemisia crossed her arms. “I want to
talk about it. It’s the last thing I did before I lost my memory,
apparently.”
“Ughhhh.” Christopher dragged a hand down his face. “Now?”
“No time like the present.”
“You
know, losing your memory has done wonders for your tact.”
Christopher took a key from his pocket and unlocked the top drawer of
his desk. He took out a small stack of opened letters. “Earlier
that day, you showed me these letters, expecting me to be proud of
you.”
“What are they?”
“Love letters.”
She
clearly hadn’t hidden her shock, as Christopher gave a humourless
huff of laughter and threw the letters onto the table. Instinctively,
Artemisia checked the seal, as if she would recognise any insignia.
They were blank, with
nothing particular about them.
“Not only that, but they’re love letters from Georgio Gloriosa.”
“Gloriosa?” Artemisia echoed. “But they’re…”
“Our
rivals.” Christopher sighed as if he was in pain. “You claimed
to have successfully seduced Georgio, giving us a way to get
information from right under their noses.”
Artemisia picked up the letters, scanning through them. Indeed, they
were full of declarations of love and various other pithy phrases.
She winced as she read a particularly cringy poem. “Do you know how
long I’d been doing this for? And exactly what my goals were?”
“About
six months, I’d guess. You said you’d already burned some of the
letters, that these were the only ones which might have useful
information in them.” Christopher plucked one of the letters from
Artemisia’s hands, staring at it disdainfully. “Unfortunately,
Georgio is such a fool that not only did he seem to fall for this,
but he
also has nothing of worth to share.”
“What about this? He speaks about a secret business deal with some
Sargassian whalers?”
“Secret? Hah!” Christopher scoffed. “My intelligence had
already informed me of that long before this letter was written.”
“So…”
I have no idea what to make of this. How deep does this go? What
sort of letters has Artemisia sent him? Has she traded secrets?
“So, you have made a right mess, little sister. Not only have you
attempted a most clumsy, inefficient form of information gathering,
but you’ve also left easily traceable evidence of it, and who knows
what you’ve written to Georgio.”
Artemisia rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you with
that.”
“I know, I know. How terrible of you to lose your memory at this
exact moment.”
“I
had no control over my accident!” Artemisia
stood up, clenching the letters in her fist.
“It
certainly hasn’t helped. For
your sake, I hope your memories return soon.”
“Don’t blame me for this! Maybe I was foolish, but I was clearly
just trying to help. And anyway, I’m not even…”
I’m not even the Artemisia that did this… but I can’t
exactly say that, can I?
Artemisia looked down, not sure who she was frustrated with. It
wasn’t like her to lose her temper so easily. Something about
Christopher’s attitude towards her, as if he knew infinitely
better, was just pissing her off.
I might not be confrontational, but I can’t stand being looked
down upon!
“I’m going to go cool off,” she said abruptly.
Christopher furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, as you wish?”
Her hand was on the doorknob before Christopher spoke up again.
“Leave the letters. I can keep them safe here.”
“No, I want to look at them. It might help with my memories.”
“Artemisia!”
“Christopher,” she replied icily, and left the room before he
could say anything more.
