Who: Ember When: Day 72 Where: Ember's room Rating: PG Status: open to Domenic
Emberlei read over the letter again. Well, she tried. It wasn't making sense. She turned it upside down and sideways, held it up to the light and then sat down to stare at it some more.
Maybe father had gone mad. She didn't like that idea, but it would be very tragic. What if she could never marry anyone and had to spend all her life taking care of a mad father?! That was be horrible and terrible and oh so sad....
Or it was a secret letter. In code?
But why in seven hells would father send her a letter in a code she didn't--- oh.
She bounced to her feet with a giggle and dashed to the little jewelry box she'd gotten just before the trip. Father had given her that page of scribbles! Not scribbles though, it was the code, wasn't it?
She was so good at this. It had only taken her half the day.
Figuring out the right way of doing things took some more time. She considered giving up and going to Lady Mairye's room for embroidery but this was probably important. She wouldn't give up! Heroines should not give up. Even if this was the most vexingly tedious thing she'd ever done aside from trying to have a conversation with Domenic.
At very very long last she had it finished. Triumphant, Ember read over her handiwork.
She stared again.
Oh that couldn't be right.
She tried again.
No, it still said that.
Ember dropped the second paper into the fire and read over her first attempt one more time. She sat down and smoothed out the skirt of her gown. Blue lambswool, trimmed with running stags worked in gold embroidery, it was a lovely gown. Gowns were very easy to understand- they could tell you a lady's house and maybe her age and what age she wanted to be and all sorts of things. All you had to do was look. But letters weren't so easy. This one said one thing, but even though Ember knew she wasn't supposed to question things it still seemed to her it meant something very different... somehow. Or maybe she'd been reading too many books again.
She picked up the gift her father had sent with the letter. It was another lovely gown, deep purple, shimmering with black and almost-black beads amid the golden threads. There were amethysts worked round the collar and he'd promised her a net to match. She held the garment up and looked it over. I'm beautiful, I'm the daughter of the Storm Lord, I am the daughter of a king. But something in the glittering gems whispered of shadows.