Ashes: Beyond Beauty, #1

Please don’t call me nice.

Nice is easy.

Nice is shallow.

Call me kind.

Kind is hard.

Kind is a battle.

Kind leaves bruises and scars.

Leaves you tired,

aching,

but victorious.

Kind recognizes the choice over the courtesy.

The strength over the convenience.

The determination rooted deep in my heart

to be unwaveringly kind

because I know the world isn’t.

Kind knows about the persistence. The stubbornness.

The suit of armor worn around the heart

just so I can reach out a hand, grant a smile

to those my mind says don’t deserve it.

Because everyone needs it.

Kind knows there’s nothing to be earned.

Kind knows it’s a gift received

to be given.

Kind is strong.

Brave.

Unwilling to budge even for a second.

Even when everyone says it’s not worth it.

Even when the world pressures you to just break.

Kind stands firm.

So call me kind.

Names & Places in Ashes

Adonia: ah-DOE-nee-uh

Aedelri: ah-DEL-ree

Aife: AY-fuh

Atsu: AT-sue

Báev: bayv

Cedric: SED-rik

Dabied: DAH-bee-ed

Danien: DAN-ee-en

Denwoed: DEN-wode

Druiron: DREW-eer-on

Filmery: FILL-merry

Greymery: GRAY-merry

Iyotep: EYE-oh-tep

Joipf: JO-ipf

Khos: koss

Kineu: kin-AY-oo

Ksa: ks-ah

Maistal: MAY-stall

Neir: neer

Pliridge: PLIH-ridge

Prus: pr-US

Runach: ROO-nok

Samael: SAM-ay-el

1 

Ashes! The shrill shriek echoed through the halls of the manor into the dim, hazy kitchen. That wasn’t really her name, of course, but her parents had died too early in her life for her to remember her actual name, and the three women she was left with didn’t care to give her an actual name. Ashes had been the obvious choice to them, based on her dull gray eyes and the ashes that always clung to her dress. But eventually, the girl grew old enough and tended enough fires to know what came before the ashes. And so in her mind, she called herself Ember because she was not some lifeless, dull remnant. Although it was likely that no one would ever know it, there was a fire inside of her that refused to be extinguished.

Of course, on days like these, that fire was difficult to maintain. Ember pulled her hands from the soapy dishwater, realizing that she was late for another duty. She had already served afternoon tea a few minutes late, and was certain she would pay for this latest offense. Ember dashed out of the kitchen and across the hall, able to move quickly since she was wearing the old stable boy’s hand-me-down tunic and trousers. She moved quickly across the main floor of the house, keeping her eyes down to avoid the scathing glare of the youngest lady of the manor. The girl had been considered Ember’s stepsister, but that was before Ember’s father had suddenly died and all familial bonds were severed. Ember ran up the flight of stairs and slipped into the elder sister’s chambers just as she drew breath to scream again.

Many apologies, my Lady Ty, Ember murmured, executing a swift curtsy. Pretty.  That was what her name meant. The ruling families of Khos were named in the fairy language according to whatever trait their parents hoped they would possess in abundance. Ember couldn’t deny that Ty certainly fit the name, but she felt that pretty was a shallow trait to prioritize for a child. But then again, she had always thought the practice in general was ridiculous, even an insult to the fairies. Not to mention that the names were often so cumbersome to pronounce that they only ever used shortened versions. But that was an opinion that could only be held in her mind.

Ty continued to stare into her own azure eyes in the mirror of her vanity, not even sparing a glance in Ember’s direction. You know, at first I was only going to ask if you had forgotten how to tell time. But now it seems that I have to ask if you’ve also forgotten the simple rule of ‘speak when spoken to.’ Now, her crystal gaze did turn on Ember with an almost tangible weight. She considered the servant girl for a moment, enjoying the power she held. Mother! Ember flinched at the unexpected shout. Ty smirked. Get on with your job.

Ember moved to comb her wet hair, still keeping her gaze low and forcing her hands to not tremble. Every characteristic Ty possessed was magnified in her mother. Lady Báev truly lived up to her namesake of beauty with her near-perfect features. Of course, this also meant that her beauty was the most important thing to her, her vanity extending so far as refusing to name either daughter after anything that would suggest an equal degree of attractiveness. And so one became pretty, and the other talent. She was cold, calculating, and cruel, but Ember knew from experience that showing any fear only ever made things worse.

No need to shout, my dear Ty. Ember suppressed a shudder at the familiar velvety voice. You know mother is always near. And I’ve already locked the attic. Is that a suitable punishment, my sweet? Ember was careful to keep her features neutral, focusing her attention on gently untangling the thick black locks in front of her. She moved on to tying the strands up in delicate twists sure to result in beautiful ringlets the following morning. She knew that looking up would only result in seeing matching cold smiles and mocking blue eyes. It had been far too long of a day to deal with their eerie resemblance on top of their punishment.

Don’t be late to my chambers, Ashes, Lady Tana had made her way upstairs, making the trio complete. Ember held in a groan as Tana tossed her golden locks, knowing her own thin, pale locks couldn’t even compare. It’s been a long day, and I desperately need the knots in my neck loosened. You have no idea, Ember thought wearily as she pinned up another twist.

Ember curled up next to the cast iron stove that night, bone-weary as always. Although locking her out of the attic, where she usually slept, was considered a punishment, Ember wasn’t sure it really was the worse option. The attic did have a small cot for her to sleep on, but it was always cold and drafty. Down in the kitchen, she could use either the stove or fireplace for warmth. Sleeping on the rough stone floor wasn’t so bad as long as she was warm. Regardless, she would never give any indication of the punishment being easy, since Lady Báev would be more than happy to come up with something far worse. Ember only wished she could keep some of her books in the kitchen to read on these nights.

None of the books could be considered great literature, just a handful of children’s books and nursery rhymes that she had found in an attic chest ages ago. But she had learned to read in both the common tongue and fairy language by listening into Ty and Tana’s lessons and taking the skills she learned back to those books. After so many years, she had them memorized, but it didn’t matter. In those stories, there was always a happy ending. Always a hero to come to the rescue. And everything always worked out for the people who showed kindness and did the right thing. Ember sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position. All she could do was hope that her own happy ending would come if she just persevered long enough.

The next morning, Ember woke before the sun, as she always did. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and slipped out the side door to get more wood for the fire. Although it was the middle of summer, they were close enough to the Northern Mountains that the air remained chilly until the sun warmed it. The ridges of the logs bit into her hands as she lifted them into the small hand cart she used to take them inside. She always wished the groundskeeper would cut them into smaller pieces, but she was appreciative of the work he did and wasn’t ever one to speak up.

With the fire quickly roaring back to life, Ember put a pot of water on to boil. As she waited for that, she moved almost silently to the dining room to polish the table so it would shine when her three mistresses came to breakfast. She placed an engraved ceramic plate and a crystal glass at each spot, and returned to the kitchen just as the water was boiling. After so many years, her morning routine had become so natural to her that it ran like clockwork. Ember delivered a hot cup of tea to Lady Báev just as she stepped into her private sitting room. She styled her hair as she drank and helped her dress when she had finished. Next, as always, was Ty, who needed each perfect ringlet carefully placed and arranged in a way that complemented her dress for the day. Tana always came last, as she took some time each morning to practice one of her many musical instruments.

Ember’s mornings were usually the busiest part of her day, but she remained ready to respond to any time they called her throughout the day. Otherwise, she helped the other workers around the manor grounds. She could never just sit still for fear of being discovered, a fear that had been ingrained in her through years of Lady Báev’s harsh treatment of anyone she felt wasn’t working as hard as they could be. As a result of Lady Báev’s short relationship with her father, Ember often experienced those punishments more than the other servants of the manor. She had lost track of the times she had been locked out of the attic or locked in the kitchen or endured any number of other slights that Lady Báev and her daughters were amused by. So, it was far easier to just stay busy.

Ember looked up as the kitchen door opened. She smiled at the gardener through the slight haze of bread flour. Good morning, Agnes.

Agnes smiled back at her small, soft-spoken friend. Morning, Ember. Baking anything special today?

Ember shook her head. She still found it amazing that Agnes could always make her happy, even in their unpleasant situation. While the other servants only called her miss for fear of upsetting their mistresses, Agnes always called her Ember, although they were careful to make sure no one heard. Just bread. We were running a little low, Ember clarified, patting the dough into a loaf. How’s the garden this morning?

Well. Agnes hopped up to sit on the counter. The manor had a small garden in the courtyard, but most of the flowers grew on a small hill behind the manor, so Ember was never able to see them, as she was almost always confined to the inside of the manor. Agnes did her best to relay its beauty, but sometimes it could take a while. Almost all of my flowers are in full bloom. Just imagine it! One knoll looks just like a brilliant sunset, and the other like every shade of the sea. My vegetables are finally starting to grow, too. And everything smells like rich soil and fresh water. It’s beautiful!

Ember grinned up at her friend. The picture I have in my mind is absolutely gorgeous.

Oh! Agnes straightened and pulled something out of her pocket. I almost forgot. I brought you a present! Happy birthday, Ember. Ember took the delicate flower from her hand and twirled it, admiring the blend of yellow and scarlet streaking through the pointed petals. It’s called a pfipa flower... I thought it was fitting for my fiery best friend.

Ember pulled her off the counter and into a tight hug, hiding her face in Agnes’ messy brown curls. Thank you, she whispered. I’m so thankful to have you here.

Of course... you know what else this flower also represents? Ember shook her head, confused. It’s a symbol of the certainty that next year at this time, we’ll be celebrating your birthday somewhere other than this dingy kitchen. Agnes squeezed her shoulder and slipped back out the kitchen door to continue with her duties. Ember continued to stare down at her flower for a few moments. Based on what she estimated from the dates on her mother’s tomb, this would be her eighteenth birthday. A lot could change in a year, she reasoned. Tucking the flower away in her pocket, she decided that her gift this year would be allowing herself to believe what Agnes had said. After all, who knew how quickly anyone’s life could change?

2 

The following day, Ember had just delivered the mail to Lady Báev in the parlor and was sweeping the entryway floor when she heard a scream echo through the house. Her stomach dropped, immediately thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong that she would be blamed for. Propping the broom against the wall, she hurried back to the parlor. Surprisingly, she found them huddled around each other on the sofa, glee evident on their faces.

Lady Báev looked up to see Ember standing in the doorway. She rose gracefully, gliding over to stand in front of her. Ember shrank back, dutifully lowering her gaze. Lady Báev raised one smug eyebrow and held out a small piece of parchment between her first two fingers. You have work to do. I suggest you get started.

Lady Báev, Ty, and Tana left Ember standing alone in the doorway. She squinted down at the paper in her hand, trying to make out what the elaborate script actually said. After some intense concentration, she finally deciphered the text.

Come one, come all

to Lord Ksapmineea’s Turning Ball!

Let your dresses be stunning, with each lace tied,

for on this night, he will seek his bride.

Ember groaned. The Turning Ball would mark the lord’s twenty-first birthday and was a grand event for nearly everyone. The gates were open to both peasants and ruling families, although Ember never really understood why the peasants would willingly surround themselves with all the lavish things they would never be able to have. The Turning Ball was an important tradition because it meant that it was time for whoever had come of age to choose a spouse. Of course, it also meant that the other ruling families would have