Tinderbox Under Winter Stars
Book Two in The Tinderbox Tales
Emma Sterner-Radley
Heartsome Publishing
Contents
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Reviews
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
1. Silver Hollow Castle
2. Snow and Sea Winds
3. Charlottenberg
4. New Experiences
5. Dinner and Decisions
6. Storsund’s Trains, Elise’s Notes, and Nessa’s Fear
7. To Skarhult
8. The Queen at Court
9. A Fawn Fretting Over Wolves
10. The First Night in Skarhult
11. Settling In
12. The Glassblower’s Test
13. First Snow of Winter
14. The Magic Lantern Show
15. The Frost Faire
16. Purpose and Belonging
17. Don’t Think
18. A Clarification, An Opportunity, and An Interview
19. Joiners Square Fest
20. Dark Eyes and a Cruel Smirk
21. The Box and The Embassy
22. The Konspiratoria
23. The Viss Embassy
24. Disapproval
25. 58 Krasny Street, Charlottenberg
26. Forced Back
27. Ice
28. Moments of Lucidity
29. Submission
30. Heart-to-Heart
31. Tinderbox Under Winter Stars
32. Night Vision
33. Companions
34. Elisandrine and Marianna
35. The Question of Magic
36. From Cawstone to Highmere Castle
37. The Guard and the Soldier
38. Betrayal
39. Leaving It Behind
40. To Ground Hollow
41. Marianna and Magic
Glossary
Call for ARC Reviewers
About the Author
Also by Emma Sterner-Radley
Copyright
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Firstly, thank you for purchasing Tinderbox Under Winter Stars.
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I frequently hold flash sales, competitions, giveaways and lots more.
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To find out more about these great deals you will need to sign up to my mailing list by clicking on the link below:
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I sincerely hope you will enjoy reading Tinderbox Under Winter Stars.
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If you did, I would greatly appreciate a short review on your favourite book website.
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Reviews are crucial for any author, and even just a line or two can make a huge difference.
Dedicated to Heimdal.
(Because he was always my favourite Norse god and seemed the right being to dedicate a Nordic themed book to.)
Acknowledgments
As always, I didn’t create this story alone. First, I had the lovely writer Em Stevens to beta read for me and Helen Clarke to do a sensitivity read for the character of Anja. Then the paid professionals swooped in and performed heroics, thank you to my editor Jessica Hatch and my proofreader Cheri Fuller – my knights in shining Track Changes.
This was a long and sometimes painful project and I’m so very grateful to my wife, Amanda Radley, for her patience and understanding.
As always, thanks to my supportive family back in Sweden and in memory of:
Malin Sterner
1973-2011
Du fattas mig.
Author’s Note
Unlike Making a Tinderbox, this book didn’t get a full introduction. I’m sure a clever reader like yourself knows the drill by now. This book’s theme of a gaslamp fantasy world inspired by real events, countries, and creeds is the same as in Making a Tinderbox. The difference is that this story’s faux-Victorian setting borrows from the Scandinavian countries with hints from Russia and Britain.
Squint and you might see inspiration from the Sami people, the KGB, the War of the Roses, Freemasons and… you’ll find characters with Swedish names. (Don’t worry, I’ve picked names that English speakers should be able to pronounce/read.) You’ll find a map and glossary at the end of the book.
Thank you for picking up this book. Now, make yourself a hot drink, and sit back to learn what awaits Nessa and Elise.
Chapter 1
Silver Hollow Castle
The Queen of Arclid’s high heels beat the stone floor into submission as she headed for her brother’s room. The corridor reeked of mould and the gas from the ill-kept gaslamps lining the walls. She grimaced as she saw a gloomy painting of her ancestor, Albertus the Third. His overspending and habit of strangling his lovers after copulation had started one of the many revolts against the Royal House of Hargraves. She did not need to be reminded of such things. This morning’s ride through the village of Ground Hollow had shown her that there were, as always, people protesting the Hargraves monarchy. She couldn’t think why. It wasn’t as if she strangled lovers. She might be on her way to strangle her brother, though.
A minute later, she flung open the doors to Prince Macray’s bedroom, revealing her brother busy tying the laces at the waist of his britches. In the bed was a pretty, blond youngling, his strong body fully exposed, and through a smug smile, showing yellow, crooked teeth.
A peasant. How vile. They are simply everywhere!
Ignoring the naked man, she addressed her brother. “Are you quite done, Macray? You were meant to meet me in the throne room fifteen minutes ago. Not that I would call that little broom closet a throne room. This castle is as minuscule as it is old-fashioned. I cannot see why you remain here.”
He pulled on a linen shirt. “Because, dearest sister, you will not have me at Highmere and the two castles in the Highlands are not much better than this one. We need more gold to bring them up to a suitable standard.”
“Last month we substantially raised taxes to gather coin for your wedding and the trimmings, we cannot raise them even more. Not if we want to keep the snotty Nobles and quibbling commoners happy. Although, I see you are doing your best to please the commoners,” she said with a nod to the blond in the bed.
Macray smirked, his chinless face annoying her more than ever. “I do what I can. Besides, we cannot all sit around pining for little runaways.”
She gave him the glare she usually reserved for traitors and assassins awaiting punishment. He took a step back but kept his unappealing smirk in place.
“Get rid of your shaft-glove over there, and we can discuss what exactly it is you are implying,” she hissed.
Without looking over at his bedfellow, Macray barked the word, “Out.” The handsome blond obeyed, pausing only to grab a tatty set of clothes before sauntering out. She had to congratulate him on his decision to get dressed in the hallway. He was clearly well-trained.
She drew herself up to her full height, aware that this made her a little taller than her younger brother. “Now that we are alone… care to explain what your slip of the tongue there was in regard to?”
“No slip of the tongue, dear sister. You spending the last month and a half running around my castle, scowling at everyone and everything is tiresome. I can only deduce that you are pining over that little harlot, Elisandrine Falk.” He snorted. “To think that you nearly married her to me, only so you could visit and bed her when you fancied. You could have at least told me of your plan. Or married her yourself.”
“Do not be absurd. You know the rules; Nobles must take partners of the opposite gender to reproduce. Besides, I am not pining. I am seething. No one turns me down. And no one makes a fool out of me, e
specially in a tavern full of commoners, half of them thugs and the other pleasure-sellers no doubt. She will pay.”
Macray buttoned up his shirt buttons. “Yes, but your efforts to find her have been fruitless. You have had the two creatures who were seen leaving with Elise and her peasant girl locked up for days. Trying to scare them into giving up their friends, to no avail. You will have to let them go soon before they are missed.” He paused on the top button. “Actually, how will you keep them from telling everyone about your embarrassment? Not to mention your desperate hunt. Kill them, perhaps?”
The Queen hummed. “I considered that. However, both this Cai and this Fyhre have people who would make noise about their absence. It is bad enough that Nightport knows how I was snubbed and thwarted. I do not need the news to spread further. What I shall do is both threaten and bribe them to ensure they do not open their pretty mouths. Discretion is key.”
“Then let the firestarter disappear into oblivion, sister. Elise is long gone by now. Hidden in some hole somewhere. That is surely punishment enough? Everyone has forgotten about her but you.”
“I do not forget so easily.”
“I know. That is the problem,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Do not take that tone with me. You might be my blood, but I am still your Queen.”
His hands fell and he sighed. “Marianna…”
She twitched at the rare use of her given name but did not cease glaring.
“…We have the wedding next week. I shall marry that skinny simpleton you chose for me, and Arclid will love us again. I will beget the royal brats that you refuse to carry yourself. But, Marianna…” He took a step closer to her. “You must stop making everyone’s lives miserable for the sake of a woman. Let the little sleep-around scurry off to the ends of the Orb. You have Arclid to rule, a brother to support in his new marriage, and tricky trade relations with the other continents to uphold. Not to mention unruly subjects to keep happy.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips.
He advanced a little more. “Lest we forget, Storsund is closing in on us, trying to gain control on this side of the sea. You know whom I mean by that, the people who are actually pulling the strings. Not just in the Storsund Trading Company, but the government of their wretched nation.”
“Yes, yes. The blasted Joiners Square. Starting off as a union and then growing to covertly overtake a nation,” Marianna intoned. “Absurd.”
Macray looked up from fiddling with his cufflinks. “That is why you are spurning their suggestions to share their superior steam technology, is it not? To keep them from gaining a foothold here?”
Marianna put her hands on her hips. “Well, imagine the nerve. Claiming that they only want to help us lay train tracks in the Highlands to improve our trade. Phah! Besides, our people do not need all these newfangled things.” She looked out the window to the village of Ground Hollow in the distance. “They only need to keep their heads down; plough the land, produce the items we use and trade. And pay their taxes to the crown, of course. I do not care if trains would raise the manufacturing speed and trade. It would also spread knowledge and coin throughout the land. Which is the last thing we need.” She turned back to her brother. “Arclidians are unruly and likely to rebel enough as it is. If they can use trains to further their causes and communicate, disaster awaits. They will start unions – just as in Storsund!”
“Exactly. So, you must focus on that. On the direction Arclid is, or is not, going. Not on Lady Falk and her farm wench.”
Gods, he nags worse than mother did.
“I want my tinderbox-maker punished, Macray.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Punished how? Exile is clearly not enough for you.”
“I have a plan. Which is none of your business.”
Macray’s brow furrowed. “As you say. I know my role is not to question.”
“Precisely, brother dear. I can do whatever I wish. No one and nothing can stop me if I have made my mind up. I will burn the land and, quite literally, bleed my people dry if that is what it takes to get what I want.”
He swallowed visibly. “Yes, growing up with you taught me that lesson more than once. Still, your reaction seems somewhat extreme for someone who has been spurned. Not even your pride is that big. Take a deep breath and think this through.”
She squinted at him.
What is he hinting at? Deeper feelings for my past lady of court? Mental instability? Weakness? She shook her head at the ludicrous thought. How dare that little rat question me? I was the firstborn Hargraves. The throne, and absolute power, is mine alone. No one may question me.
Marianna lifted her chin, looking down her nose at her brother. “I shall not take any deep breaths. My breathing is perfectly adequate. I shall have my pet back and then move on to dealing with Joiners Square. Both are things I can do while having to sit through tedious meetings about your wedding. Thank the gods those will be over soon.”
He sighed, reaching for his cravat on the table. “Whatever you say… my Queen.”
Chapter 2
Snow and Sea Winds
Nessa Clay squinted beyond the ship’s bow. Was that land ahead? She pulled her worn, ox-leather coat tighter against the snowflakes peppering her from above. Yes, that must be Storsund in the distance. The vast northern continent.
Her chin trembled. This place seemed so different. So unsafe. Still, it would hopefully be out of the Queen’s grasp, which was all that mattered. If she was hunting them, surely she wouldn’t know that this was where they had gone. No one in their right mind would come to Storsund with winter on its way.
A man coughed behind her, and her shoulders slumped.
Well, no one except the Lindberg family, I suppose. But then, they’re going home and apparently love the cold.
Mr Lindberg had expounded on that subject night after night on this ship. He had gone on and on about the light when the ground was covered in snow, the bracing effects of cold, the pleasures of big roaring fires, and a hot, bitter Storsund drink called coffee.
The man coughed again as he approached Nessa. “There you are, silly girl. I’ve been looking for you. You cannot hide from me, yes?” His Storsund accent was as broad as his waistline.
“Hello, Mr Lindberg. I mean Albert,” she corrected herself. Throughout the past six weeks he, his wife Eleonora, and their obnoxious but adorable little daughter, Sonja, had been their constant companions, quickly forcing Nessa and Elise to call them by their first names.
Luckily, Nessa and Elise had spent most of their time in their cabin, making love and talking. But they had to come up on deck for food eventually, and, the instant they did, there was the Lindberg family.
It was all Elise’s fault. The gods bless her good intentions but curse her skill at socialising. Elise had taken the advice of their friend and guide back in Nightport, Hunter Smith, and asked someone who looked well-packed if they would sell them some winter clothes. It had turned out to be the Lindberg family. After the transaction, Elise had begun chatting with them and made friends.
Of course, Elise didn’t reveal that the reason they were embarking on a long trip between continents, without more than one change of clothes, was that they had to escape in a hurry, as they were hunted by a monarch wishing to keep Elise as a mix of court jester and courtesan. Imagine thinking one could own Elise’s quick temper, hunger for bedplay, and her tendency to cause trouble, “make her surroundings a tinderbox” as the Queen called it, as a source of amusement.
Nessa balled her hands into fists. Elise was not a plaything. And she was never going to be dragged back to court to serve that… bloodsucker. No, Elise had told the Lindbergs that they had left on a whim. That they were travellers who just up and left when the fancy took them. Something which was as far from Nessa’s careful and anxious style of living as it could be. But the Lindbergs had bought it. They bought anything Elise told them.
“Hm. Am I disturbing you? You seem to be
thinking about things, yes?” Albert said.
“What? Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”
“You must listen. You’re so distracted around me. I said that I’ve been looking for you, Mrs Glass.”
Mrs Glass. Nessa was still not used to the new alias. Nor pretending to be married. Lying about something as sacred as marriage made her worry they were jinxing themselves somehow. She had grown up seeing a hale and enriching marriage between her parents and knew what a beautiful thing it could be.
When I do marry, I wonder if I can live up to the standard they have set. Can I fulfil their expectations in any part of my life?
“I see. Well, you found me,” she replied, trying to sound happy about that. She pulled up her trousers, ones that used to be Albert’s.
Perhaps I should’ve sprung for one of Eleonora’s dresses. At least it would’ve fitted better.
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