Ember sat up eagerly as her mother set down the last dish, steam rising from the stew rich with rosemary and thyme. The wooden chair creaked as she swung her legs beneath the table, watching the ladle dip and rise.
“How was the market today?” Thomas asked, tearing off a chunk of bread. His smile came easier than it had in days, though his gaze kept drifting to the windows.
“Oh Father, it was amazing!” Ember bounced in her seat. “There was a bird that could talk just like a real person, and a man who ate fire!” She thrust her hands upward, mimicking the flames.
“Mind those arms, little fox,” Sarah said with a gentle smile. “The stew bowl’s right there.”
“Sorry,” Ember dropped her hands but couldn’t contain her grin. “And look what Mother bought me!” She produced her wooden fox, making it prance along the table edge.
Thomas leaned in close, squinting at the toy with mock gravity. “Fine work that. Your mother always knows quality.”
“Watch the tail move!” Ember demonstrated, her earlier fatigue forgotten. “It really swishes!”
Sarah filled Thomas’s bowl again, her movements steady even as boot steps echoed outside. “The craftsman carved it from a single piece.”
“We saw jugglers too,” Ember continued between cooling breaths on her spoonful. “They had these colored balls that looked like they were dancing.”
A scrape of metal on stone came from the street. Sarah’s spoon clinked against her bowl. Thomas reached over, his callused hand covering hers.
“Were there honey cakes?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
“Still warm from the oven!” Ember’s face lit up. “And Mother let me have spun sugar - there was this huge dragon made of it that glittered!”
Sarah’s grip on her spoon loosened as she watched Ember spread her arms wide. “She had every vendor wrapped around her finger today.”
“That’s my girl.” Thomas squeezed Sarah’s hand at the sound of another boot heel on cobblestone.
Ember soaked her bread in the stew, chattering on while her parents’ smiles tightened at each passing footstep. “Can we go again tomorrow? The juggler said he’d teach me!”
“We’ll see, love,” Sarah managed evenly. “Best finish before it cools.”
Ember filled the room with her stories as they ate, her voice bright and eager. Sarah topped off their bowls while Thomas asked about every detail, his fingers still intertwined with hers across the table. They savored each moment of her joy, even as the night pressed close against the windows and strange footsteps passed their door.
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The market day’s chatter faded into evening quiet. Ember pushed her spoon through the cooling stew, listening to the muffled sounds from the street below their second-floor dining room.
“More bread, dear?” Sarah offered, her hand unsteady as she reached for the basket.
Thomas leaned toward his wife. “I don’t understand it,” he muttered, knuckles rapping against the wooden table. “Markus has everything he needs to destroy us. The coin, the connections…”
“Thomas, please-” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Ember.
“He could undercut every price we set,” Thomas pressed on, jaw tight. “Take every customer we have. Instead, he just…” He gestured toward the closed shutters, beyond which they all knew three men stood in their usual spot.
Ember kept her head down, stirring her stew, but she caught every detail - the way her father’s cup rattled against the table when he drank, how he startled at each creak of the floorboards.
“Perhaps he’ll grow tired of watching us,” Sarah said, fingers clenched around the table’s edge.
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Thomas barked out a bitter sound. “Tired? You think that’s what this is?”
“Father?” Ember’s question made both parents twitch. “Why are those men down there every night?”
Thomas sighed, the anger draining from his face. “I wish I knew, little fox. Been asking myself that same question. Why watch us night after night when he could crush us with a word?” He shook his head. “Something else he wants, has to be. But what?”
A distant sound from the street made Sarah jump, the bread basket sliding in her grip. Thomas caught it, his expression hardening as he glanced toward the shuttered window.
“Standing there,” he whispered. “Night after night.”
Ember abandoned her meal. The dining room felt strange now, all its familiar comfort stripped away by the watchers below.
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Sarah’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood to clear the dishes. Her hands shook, making the bowls rattle together as she stacked them. Thomas looked up from his half-finished meal, watching her closely.
“I’ll help,” he said, starting to rise. Sarah shook her head.
“I’ve got-” A plate slipped through her trembling fingers and shattered on the floor. She stared down at the broken pieces, struggling to catch her breath.
Thomas crossed to her and gripped her shoulders. “Leave it. Just sit.”
“But the mess-”
“Sit.” He guided her back to her chair, then rubbed his face wearily. “This ends tomorrow. I’m going to the guard captain.”
Sarah’s head snapped up. “What?”
“We’ll hire guards if we have to. Day and night watches. Whatever it takes.” He planted his hands on the table. “We can’t go on like this.”
“The cost-”
“What’s the point of having money if we’re too frightened to sleep?” Thomas glanced at their daughter before continuing. “If you start at every noise, if she-” He stopped himself.
Sarah caught his sleeve as he paced past. “You always said honest merchants didn’t need guards.”
“I was wrong.” He gripped her hand. “We might even take on someone permanent.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do.” Thomas knelt beside her. “Nothing matters more than keeping us safe.”
“The same man who trusted in fair dealing and his good name?” Sarah tried to smile, but tears welled in her eyes.
“That man didn’t have to watch his wife check every lock and window each night.” He bowed his head. “Didn’t have to see his child afraid.”
Sarah stroked his hair. “Then do it. Talk to the captain. We’ll manage the expense.”
They held each other while metal clinked in the street below their shuttered windows. Their daughter sat quietly in her chair, clutching her wooden toy, watching her parents with solemn eyes as they clung together in the lamplight, trying to believe that enough coin could buy them peace.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
Ember sat in her chair, still gripping the wooden fox from dinner. The broken pieces of plate lay scattered where they’d fallen, a reminder of her mother’s trembling hands. She watched her parents’ worried exchange about hiring guards, understanding more than they probably thought. The room felt wrong tonight - the familiar scents of bread and herbs lost beneath a sharper edge of fear.
Her father gathered pieces of the broken plate, his fingers clumsy with suppressed rage. Mother kept pacing between the closed shutters, her movements sharp and quick. Even with the wooden panels secured, the presence of the men below pressed against them like a physical weight.
She heard their boots scraping against the cobbles, counting the shuffling steps as intently as she did her arithmetic lessons. They barely moved, just shifted their weight now and then.
“Father?” The word felt loud in the quiet room.
Thomas paused his sweeping. “Yes, love?”
“Why don’t you do it to him?”
Her father’s brow creased. “Do what to whom?”
“Send men to stand outside Markus’s house.” Ember traced the wooden fox’s ear with her thumb. “It works really well. We can hardly sleep.”
The broom clattered to the floor. Thomas stared at his daughter, mouth working soundlessly for a moment as the innocent brutality of her suggestion sank in. Sarah stopped her pacing, turning to face her daughter.
“Ember…” her mother’s voice trailed off, as if unsure how to continue.
“What?” Ember glanced between them, genuinely confused. “They’re scaring us. We should scare them back. Isn’t that fair?”
Thomas set the fallen broom aside and knelt before her. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “I… we can’t just…” He drew a deep breath. “If we did that, we’d be no better than them. Violence breeds violence, little one. Fear breeds fear.”
“But they started it,” Ember insisted. “And it’s working-”
“And where would it end?” Sarah asked, her voice uncertain. She joined them, wringing her hands. “If we frighten them, they’ll try something worse. Then we’d have to do something even more terrible. Soon there’d be nothing left but…” She glanced at Thomas, searching for words.
“But they’re winning,” Ember said simply.
Thomas squeezed her small hand, his voice rough. “Sometimes winning isn’t… it’s not always about who can hurt the other person more. It’s about being strong enough to break the chain.”
Sarah pulled Ember close, the familiar scent of lavender soap mixing with the salt of unseen tears.
“There are other ways to be brave,” Sarah murmured, though her voice trembled slightly.
Ember settled into her mother’s embrace but kept frowning, the puzzle unsolved in her mind. Below, a boot scuffed stone, and her parents stiffened. The men continued their watch as evening crept closer, patient as winter.