Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Elise was suddenly very aware of how uneven her heartbeat had become. She walked by Nessa’s side, unable to take her eyes off her.

  Then Nessa broke the silence. “Hey, if they’re not too expensive, can we buy some roasted dammon nuts? There must be some around here, I can smell them.”

  Elise cleared her pinched throat. “Yes, I can, too. We should go find them and buy you a bag.”

  Chapter 16

  Nessa on Core Street

  Dammon nuts procured, Nessa wondered what new wonders awaited them. Elise seemed excited by everything they saw here on Core Street, but Nessa knew that was nothing compared to her own thrill. Adrenaline spiked in her veins, racing the blood along. It made her feel so hot she might as well have a fever. She hadn’t seen any of this when visiting as a child. They had gone back to Ground Hollow long before nightfall.

  Experiencing this. Daring to be here in all of this. It reminded her why she had left the safety and comfort of Ground Hollow. There was so much life here and new experiences every moment. The living beat of it, the pure, heart-thundering essence of it. It fed into her feeling of being feverish, making her dizzy.

  So did the bright colours in a stall where people seemed to be shouting out bets on something. Nessa put her hand on Elise’s shoulder, half to get her attention and half to steady herself. “What’s happening there?”

  Elise looked over to the stall. “Not the faintest idea. Let us find out.”

  They walked over and saw that the people around the stall were betting on skitter-beetles. Nessa counted seven of them, all waiting in tiny holding pens on a miniature race track, which lay on a rickety table.

  Elise clapped her hands. “Oh! I have not bet on anything since the last horse races at Highmere. I know we are being careful with our coin, but can we bet a little? The one with a white dot on its back looks spry.”

  “Up to you what you do with your coin,” Nessa said. “I’m sticking to eating my nuts and watching. I only bet when I know I have a high chance of winning. These insects are impossible to judge.”

  Elise was bent over the miniature race track, staring at the little critters. “No, they are not. The one with the white dot is moving more than the others. It wants to get out on the track and run. Look!”

  With a sigh, Nessa got closer and leaned in to look at the beetle. When Elise turned her head to say something, the tips of their noses brushed. She could smell dammon nuts on Elise’s breath. Neither of them moved, and Nessa noticed that Elise was staring at her mouth.

  Perhaps she can smell the nuts on my breath, too. That must be why she’s looking at my mouth? No. That look is… erotic.

  The little hairs on Nessa’s arms pricked up, and she felt her mouth water, as if the beauty in front of her was a treat she could devour. One she was starving for.

  She chided herself for the umpteenth time that there was no use in all that. They wanted different things.

  Nessa stood up straight. She had to take Elise’s mind off bedplay and back to what they were here for. “Fine. You bet on that critter, and I’ll try to not say ‘I told you so’ when it loses. Or they all stay still and won’t run when they are let out of their pens.”

  The tension broke. Smiling, Elise rolled her eyes at her and went over to bet. When she came back, they ate some more nuts in congenial silence.

  Nessa was just about to say that she wanted a drink when the stall owner announced that the race was starting. Elise grabbed her hand as the stall owner pushed a button which made the little pens open and allow the beetles to get out on the track.

  Nessa had been right: they didn’t move. One of them actually looked dead now that she looked closer. Another was climbing along the back of its holding cell, trying to get off the table. Nessa couldn’t help but pity the small animals.

  People booed, but Elise went one step further and began shouting. “What sort of scam is this, Sir? Are these animals drugged? Are they even alive? What have you done to them? I want my two coppers back.”

  The stall owner shouted back, and soon there was a lengthy argument which ended with Elise and the other betters getting their coins back. Nessa was sure that their coin would have been lost if it hadn’t been for the posh, belligerent woman who would not give up.

  Even with her coin back, Elise wanted to carry on the argument. Nessa saw veins protruding in her elegant neck as she shouted at the man. He was starting to snarl menacingly at her. In the distance, Nessa saw what she assumed was a group of city guards rushing towards them.

  Nessa took her arm and led her away. “Never mind. He’s not worth you making your blood boil like this. Besides, he might pull a knife or the city guards might kick you off Core Street. Come away. Please.”

  Elise seemed like she would argue, but a heartbeat or two of staring into Nessa’s eyes seemed to calm her. Her posture was still rigid and tense, but her breathing slowed as she followed Nessa over to a booth opposite. This one was blessedly without any betting, but Nessa couldn’t quite understand what it had instead.

  “What am I looking at?” she asked Elise.

  Elise gently took her by the shoulders and moved her aside to clear her view. “It is a fortune machine.”

  “It’s a what now?” Nessa asked, acutely aware that Elise’s hands had stayed on her shoulders.

  “It is exactly what the name says it is, a machine that will tell your fortune. Actually, I believe it has a certain number of vague fortunes and will spit one of them out for you at random. So it won’t so much tell your fortune as give you a pre-printed piece of paper in exchange for some coins. At least that is what the ones at Highmere were like.”

  Elise let go of her shoulders and crouched down in front of the contraption. “Yes, this looks very similar to the ones I have seen. They all have a theme of some form of telling the future. The figurines might be witches reading the entrails of animals or prophets finding your future in one of their books. Or like this one, a fortune teller finding your future in her cards.”

  Nessa stared at the strange object. Elise was right; the automaton was meant to look like a fortune teller. She remembered her father’s drawing of his grandmother, who had been a fortune teller. She had been dressed like this machine. The thing in front of Nessa was only the likeness of a woman’s torso, arms, and head. There were six ornately decorated cards face down on a tray in front of her. The thing was perfectly made. Although horribly eerie, too still, too realistic.

  “Is it run on steam power?”

  Elise shook her head. “No. Good old-fashioned clockwork. Even though I know it is a scam and that the fortunes you get will be vague enough to apply to anyone at any time, I still think there is a magical feel to it. If nothing else then because of the intricate clockwork. A lot of artistry and skill has gone into this machine.”

  Nessa crouched down next to Elise. The fact that this was a machine mainly for children meant that all adults either had to bend over or crouch down.

  Annoying. There are barely any children here tonight. Stick it on a table so I don’t have to sit down here so close to… her. Gods, she smells so nice. Please don’t let our knees touch. If they do, I might lose control and fall back on my arse. Or worse, on her.

  Nessa refocused her attention to inspect the clockwork figurine face on. She wanted to see this machine from all angles. To figure out its workings. She had never seen anything operated by clockwork.

  “Here, allow me,” Elise said and put a copper coin into the slot connected to the figurine.

  It made a sound like gears grinding against each other and then came to life. The fortune teller, with movements that were clunky and slow, turned each and every card on her tray. Showing pictures of everything from fools, to strange imaginary animals, to Sauq; the god of death. When she had turned them all, the clockwork woman looked up. Its lifelike, unseeing eyes were now drilling into Nessa’s. An icy shiver trickled down her spine.

  Just above the slot where Elise had put in a coin, a piece of paper wa
s spat out. It fell to the ground, and Nessa picked it up.

  When she held it in her hand, Elise leaned over closer than she needed to and read it:

  “You will have a confrontation with someone who has a black heart. Then you will embark on an adventure which will take you far away. Unlucky colour: purple,” Elise intoned.

  Then she laughed. The warm sound of it hit Nessa like a wave, cresting over her and making her all tingly. She was reminded of their first night together, when they were leaving the castle and Elise laughed as the lux beetles flew too close to her. That sound had captivated her then, and it was even worse tonight. Nessa balled her hands into fists, begging her heart to stop falling for this woman.

  “Well, to avoid meeting anyone with a black heart or running into anything purple, I suggest we go home and get some sleep,” she said, wanting to break the strange magic of Elise’s laugh.

  Elise folded the piece of paper with the fortune and stuck it in Nessa’s coat pocket. Then she linked their arms. “Agreed. Let's go home.”

  Chapter 17

  A Moment of Magic on a Rainy Morning

  It was raining. Heavily. Elise watched the drops hit their dirty window. It looked cold out there, with those dark grey skies brooding over Nightport. The wind that crept in through the uninsulated window was close to icy. Causing a sharp contrast to how warm it was under the covers in their bed.

  Elise was laying on her side, face towards the window. Behind her Nessa was on her side, too, facing away. She savoured the warm, solid comfort of Nessa’s back against her own. She never knew it could be so wonderful to merely sleep next to someone.

  Sadly, she wasn’t sleeping now. She was blinking out at the grey skies and dreading Saint Alsager’s church bells chiming six. Judging by the light it must be almost time. The last thing she wanted to do was get out of this warm bed and into that cold greyness, only to face a day in the company of the dull and overly precise Mr Richards. Her job provided them with the safety of coin coming in, and she knew she should be grateful for that. But going from a leisurely life at court into working all day would have been easier if the job was more challenging. Or if she could at least work with someone whose company she enjoyed.

  She rolled onto her back, staring up at the crack in the ceiling.

  Perhaps I should get up and start washing. Why just lie here and wait?

  Suddenly, life provided a gift. Or perhaps it came from those gods she had such a hard time believing in. Before the church bells had time to ring out, Nessa turned and embraced her. One leg landed heavily over Elise’s and an arm was carelessly tossed over her torso.

  Nessa was fast and brusque in her movements when she slept. Elise was getting used to it, though. Besides, how could she mind when the end result felt this good? The warm weight of Nessa’s limbs, the deep breaths against her ear, and the forbidden pleasure of Nessa’s crotch pushing against her hip. Only two thin, short nightdresses separating their skin.

  Nessa stirred, sighing in her sleep. She made tiny movements, adjusting to her new sleeping position, something which accentuated every place where her body touched Elise’s. They were so closely entwined now. It would be so easy for this to move from something platonic into something erotic. A rush made its way from Elise’s stomach and poured out into every part of her body, warming her and tingling her every nerve ending.

  This is wrong. Nessa is your friend, nothing more. Besides, she is asleep. Stop being so wanton all the time!

  Her rampant heartbeat wasn't listening. Elise breathed in deeply to calm herself and picked up the smell of rain from the draughty window, the sugar pumpkin oil on both their skin and on the bedding. And under all that, the comforting, crisp, and intolerably intoxicating smell of Nessa’s skin.

  Elise didn't dare to move. What if she woke her and she moved away?

  Nessa gave a soft, little grunt and nuzzled her face down against Elise’s shoulder. It felt like she was itching her nose, right next to the strap of Elise’s nightdress. The gesture was more sweet and childlike than erotic.

  Nevertheless, it gave Elise goosebumps of pleasure.

  If she had magic, she would make time stop in that moment. She would make it so that she could always stay in that fragile, fleeting moment of pure, almost painful beauty. Nervous excitement, blissed-out comfort, and the tingling of infatuation all crowded in her mind and heart. Not only was she extremely aware of every spot where her body touched Nessa’s, she was also aware of exactly how drawn she was to her. Drunk on infatuation. Terrified of rejection.

  Nessa moved her face against her shoulder again, and Elise felt something warm and damp. It could only be Nessa’s lips.

  Her mouth is on my skin. Oh gods! What do I do?

  To her shame, Elise felt a pull in her lower stomach emanating into liquid warmth between her thighs. Dizzy. She was suddenly so dizzy. Was she breathing too fast? Was she breathing at all?

  Nessa made a snuffling noise. Her arm, earlier just flopped over the Elise, now tightened around her waist. Was that a sign of some sort?

  Elise stifled a groan. She had never felt anything like this. This went beyond any love, and certainly any lust, she had ever felt. How could something this lovely be so bewildering and frightening?

  Saint Alsager’s bell began to toll six. Morning was here. The magic was broken.

  Nessa rolled over, stretched, and with a mumbled ‘good morning,’ she slowly got up to wash and dress. Elise was left alone in the bed. She had a strange feeling that she was being punished for her wanton reaction to Nessa’s body by that fragile, magic moment ending.

  The rain grew heavier — mirroring her mood.

  Chapter 18

  One Week in Nightport

  They had lived in Nightport a week now, so Nessa’s walk to Orgreave Street and the Brownlees’ hot shop was familiar. Her feet knew the way, freeing her mind to think about Elise.

  She was thinking about Elise far too often, and telling herself to stop wasn’t working. Last time she found someone on her mind this often, it had been Henrico. They had been together for two years after he came to help with her parents’ overgrown barley fields. He had stayed to be with Nessa, and they had been inseparable until he wanted to move on and get their own farm somewhere else. She couldn’t do that, she had to stay and help her parents. It had been the right thing to do, letting him go. She knew that now.

  Hurt like being rammed by a marrow-oxen, though.

  She ran her hands though her hair, brushing away the unwanted memories. Why was she thinking about this? Oh yes, Elise. Fascinating, beautiful Elise. It was a shame that her roommate only wanted to be friends. And possibly lovers? Nessa’s inkling that Elise wanted that, to make them lovers, was increasing. But then they both knew that Elise enjoyed bedplay and she hadn’t had any lovers in Nightport yet. So that was probably why she clung to Nessa so tightly. Perhaps she should encourage it. Maybe she could enjoy pleasures of the flesh without a relationship? At least if it was with Elise.

  No, you idiot, that way lies heartbreak and the ruination of your important friendship.

  She moved aside for a woman who nearly ran into her. The woman quickly apologised and moved on. It was lovely, the city life. No stopping and chatting, no recognising Nessa. Not making her heart race by talking to her. Not forcing her to try to figure out what to say or how to say it. The citizens of Nightport didn’t know all of Nessa’s business and didn’t judge it. They didn’t care one whit that she hadn’t settled down. Or that she hadn’t had children. Wasn’t four years into a job and thriving. They didn’t know, and they didn’t care. Just strangers minding their own business. There was such freedom in that. Her nerves seemed to be relaxing more every minute she spent in the city.

  She knew that Ground Hollow was perfect for her parents and for Layden. They, and most other citizens of the village, thought it was the most wonderful place in the world; it fed and healed them. Her, on the other hand, it strangled. Ground Hollow was safe, and she had loved tha
t as a child. But now, its safety wasn’t enough to put up with all the negative aspects. And that was coming from someone who valued safety very highly indeed.

  She looked around. Everything was so different here. So new. So big. It was what she had loved as a visiting child. The sense that everything seemed to be changing and evolving. The fear of the unknown was overshadowed by the thrill of a place that didn’t settle down. Didn’t become stale. Didn’t stop. The people here had open minds, willing to learn and change. She wanted to be like them. She would be like them. She would make this city hers. Make it feel safe. Somehow.

  Gods, help me be brave and open-minded. Help me fit in here. Help me be more like Elise.

  Elise. She was back to thinking about Elise. How had that happened?

  Oxen-shit. Stop it, woman. You’re friends. Just stop!

  Disrupting her furious thoughts was the sight of the door to the Brownlees’ workshop. She put her hands in her pockets and picked up her pace. She wasn’t the type to be late or to shun work. That wasn’t how she had been raised.

  * * *

  It was nearing midday. They were making drinking glasses today, and for once, Nessa was invited to do more than watch. Secilia was standing next to Nessa with the blowpipe in her hands. She was showing her how to blow quick puffs of air into the blob of molten glass attached to the end of the blowpipe.

  “There. See, nothin’ to it. Have a try, lass.”

  Nessa bit her lip. “Thank you, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this. What if I make a mess of it?”

  “Ye’ve got to stop worryin’ so much, lass. If somethin’ gets broken, it can usually be mended. Ye can never work with glass unless ye are prepared to try somethin’ an’ fail. If ye hesitate, the time when the glass is the perfect temperature an’ shape will be missed. Then it’ll be near impossible to work with.”