“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.”

Ack, was I rude? She doesn’t seem offended though.

“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.”

That was harsh!

“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…”

This is embarrassing to say, but…

“…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.

Hey, he’s got a mole on his throat in the same place I do.

“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.”

Love letters?! Artemisia has a lover?

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.”

Is that sarcasm I detect?

“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.

I want time to think, and how best to proceed.

Christopher furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, as you wish?”

Right, the old Artemisia would have let rip at him.

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.