Ember squirmed in her chair as her mother brought the honey-glazed duck to their small table. The hearth’s warmth filled their dining room, carrying the rich aroma of roasted meat and herbs.


    “It looks perfect!” Ember said, watching the golden skin glisten.


    Her father Thomas smiled as Sarah carved the bird. “Like our profits this month,” he said with satisfaction.


    “Thomas,” Sarah said, but she was smiling as she served Ember first.


    Ember savored the sweet meat, watching her father launch into one of his merchant stories, hands already moving to paint the scene.


    “So there I was, with three buyers circling like hawks,” Thomas said. “Each one convinced they’d get the silk for half its worth!”


    Ember raised her fork, copying his gestures. “Then what happened?”


    “Told them quality costs - just like this duck here.” He took another bite. “Next thing you know, they’re fighting to outbid each other!”


    Ember laughed and bowed like a merchant, knocking her cup with her elbow. Honey sauce spattered her best dress, dotting the tiny embroidered flowers along the hem.


    She stopped mid-motion, but instead of scolding her, Sarah just reached over with her napkin.


    “Just like your father,” she said, dabbing at the spots. “Always telling stories with your whole body.”


    “That reminds me,” Thomas said, helping himself to more duck. “Wait until you hear what Master Cooper did when he saw the moon-weave!”


    Ember leaned forward, elbows on the table. Her father’s stories always made ordinary merchant dealings sound like grand adventures.


    “His face!” Thomas pulled an exaggerated expression of shock that made Ember laugh again.


    Sarah topped off Thomas’s wine. As she set down the pitcher, her fingers tightened around its handle. Ember barely noticed, absorbed in her father’s next tale about outwitting a northern merchant.


    “And just as Markus Blackwood thought he had it all arranged-”


    Sarah’s cup clicked against the table. “Perhaps another story?”


    Thomas paused, then smoothly shifted to a tale about silk dyes gone wrong. Though he kept talking and gesturing, his eyes strayed to the windows more than once.


    Ember hardly noticed, content with the warmth and her father’s stories. She watched her mother’s familiar movements as she served more food, listened to her father’s voice rise and fall with each tale.


    “More duck, love?” Sarah asked.


    “Yes! This is the best feast ever!”


    Her parents shared a quick glance, but then her father was telling another story, and her mother was sneaking an extra piece of crispy skin onto her plate, and Ember felt wholly, completely happy.


    The last echoes of Thomas’s tale faded, leaving an unusual quiet at the dinner table. Ember watched her father’s fingers tap against the wood - that restless movement she’d been seeing more lately.


    “About the eastern quarter,” Sarah began, cutting off when Thomas shook his head slightly.


    “Markus Blackwood wasn’t happy with the terms,” he said lightly. “But that’s trade for you.”


    Ember lowered her fork. Blackwood. She remembered him from the guild hall - the way his voice had dropped to barely a whisper when discussing merchants who traveled after sunset.


    “He’ll come around,” Sarah said. As she reached for more wine, the pitcher wavered in her grip, dotting the white cloth with red.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    “Just needs time to settle,” Thomas agreed. His gaze flickered to the window before returning to his meal.


    Ember poked at her duck. “Father? Is this about what happened with Master Blackwood and the silk shipment?”


    Her parents shared a look. Thomas shifted in his chair.


    “Nothing to concern yourself with,” he said carefully. “Just business matters.”


    “But at the guild hall-”


    “Would you like more duck?” Sarah reached for Ember’s plate, her smile too wide.


    Something moved past the window. Thomas’s arm jerked, sending his wine across the tablecloth. Sarah quickly pressed her napkin against the spreading stain.


    “Only the wind,” she said softly, though her eyes locked with Thomas’s.


    “I should check those shutters,” Thomas said, crossing to the window with quick steps. The latch snapped shut.


    “Tell us another story, Father,” Ember said, trying to bring back the evening’s earlier ease. “About the island silk traders?”


    “Of course, love.” He returned to his seat, shoulders stiff. “Though perhaps a shorter one tonight.”


    Thomas spoke, but his usual flair was missing. His attention kept wandering to the windows while Sarah collected plates with unsteady hands.


    The fire popped in the hearth. Ember huddled closer to its warmth, watching her parents’ faces in the flickering light, and wished she could understand what they weren’t saying.


    Ember stacked the plates with familiar care, the quiet clink of ceramic keeping time with her parents’ hushed voices near the hearth. She moved deliberately, staying within earshot while appearing absorbed in her chores.


    “…can’t believe he’d actually threaten…” Her father’s words dropped to a murmur.


    “Pride makes men do terrible things, Thomas,” her mother replied softly.


    Ember aligned the silverware with meticulous attention, ears straining.


    “We’ve earned our success.” The edge in her father’s voice made her pause. “The eastern quarter contracts, the new suppliers - all of it legitimate. To think Markus would…” He fell silent, disturbing his hair with restless fingers.


    Her mother touched his arm. “We’re still among the most prosperous merchants in Aldermere.”


    “That’s precisely the problem.” Thomas stood before the fire, his expression hard. “Should I regret being too successful? Apologize for serving our customers better?”


    “Of course not, love.” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Ember before she continued more quietly. “But some men worry more about their pride than their purses. And pride can be… unstable.”


    Ember drifted closer to the hearth with the remaining cups, her father’s hands clenching at his sides.


    “So we just… what? Deliberately let our business suffer?” Bitterness threaded through his words. “Watch our contracts disappear to keep Markus happy?”


    “To keep our family safe,” Sarah said. The tablecloth trembled between her fingers as she smoothed it. “Just until things settle.”


    Thomas turned to the flames. “It isn’t right.”


    “No,” Sarah agreed, “but it may be necessary.”


    At the washing basin, Ember slowed her movements, processing fragments of conversation she couldn’t fully grasp but knew mattered. The fire popped behind her.


    “…not about the money anymore…” her father was saying, “…about control…”


    Her mother’s response was too faint to catch, but the fear in it made Ember’s throat tighten. She’d never heard that tone from her mother before.


    Setting the final dish down, Ember turned to find her parents watching her, their earlier warmth replaced by tension. Her father attempted a smile.


    “All finished?”


    Ember nodded, suddenly yearning for their embrace. They moved to her at once, the conversation about threats and pride yielding to the simple refuge of family.


    Ember settled into bed, pulling the fresh sheets up to her chin. The candle on her bedside table cast a warm glow across her small bedroom. Her father sat beside her, the familiar weight of him making the mattress dip.


    “There’s my little spark,” Thomas said softly. He reached out to stroke her hair, his touch gentle but unsteady.


    “Father?” Ember caught his sleeve. “Are you cold?”


    “No, love.” He drew her into a hug, holding her closer than usual. She nestled against his chest, listening to the quick rhythm of his heartbeat. “Just thinking how clever you’re becoming.”


    Sarah joined them from the doorway, embracing them both. Ember relaxed into their shared warmth, feeling her mother’s hand moving in slow circles on her back.


    “Time for sleep,” Sarah said, though she didn’t pull away. She kissed Ember’s forehead, her lips lingering.


    Thomas eased back and tucked the blankets around Ember with careful attention. “Sweet dreams, little spark.” The words came out rough.


    “Aren’t you going to blow out the candle?” Ember asked as her parents remained by her bedside.


    Sarah’s fingers found Thomas’s shoulder. “We’ll leave it burning a while longer tonight.”


    “But you always say not to waste candles,” Ember said, puzzled.


    “Sometimes a little light is worth it,” Thomas replied. His eyes shifted to the window, checking the latches again.


    Sarah sat on the bed’s edge, combing her fingers through Ember’s hair. “Would you like your lullaby?”


    Ember nodded. Her mother began to sing, the familiar tune less steady than usual. Thomas stood by the window, watching the darkness beyond.


    “Sleep now, precious girl,” Sarah whispered after the last note faded. She bent down for one more kiss.


    As her parents moved to leave, Ember called out, “I love you.”


    They turned back at once. “We love you too,” they answered together, their voices carrying a weight that made Ember’s throat tight.


    They paused in the doorway, shoulders touching as they watched their daughter in the candlelight, neither willing to be the first to step away from this moment of quiet peace.