“I just don’t want to r-ruin the glass. Or let you down, Mrs Brownlee.”
Secilia frowned. “Ye’ll only be lettin’ me down if ye don’t dare try. It’s all about the glass, an’ it’s waitin’ on ye to help it be the best an’ prettiest it can be.”
She handed Nessa the blowpipe. Nessa’s hands sweated profusely as she took it. Not just because of the furnace or the hot workshop.
You can do this. You’re not even shaping it, only blowing it and starting the process. You won’t ruin it. Not yet anyway. Take the chance.
She began puffing the short breaths into the blowpipe and saw the mass of molten glass react. It was working.
Outside, the bell tolled twelve. Nessa puffed into the pipe as it rang out.
“Stop, stop. That’s enough, lass. Good. Now hand ‘er over. I’ll do the rest. Ye go talk to that lady of yers and be back after lunch.”
Nessa gave her the blowpipe and glanced in the direction that Secilia had been looking. Standing right outside the open door of the workshop was Elise. She held a paper bag in her hand.
Lunch, Nessa assumed. She felt a rush and put it down to having used the blowpipe for the first pipe and the fact that she really wanted lunch. Purely that. Certainly nothing else.
She hurried towards Elise, whose smile didn’t look as confident and merry as usual. Her gaze flitted between Nessa and the ground.
Nessa was in the doorway, right in front of her now. “Hello there. What’s in the bag?”
“I am doing very well today. How are you?” Elise asked pointedly.
Nessa chuckled. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry. How are you?”
“Very well, as I said. Thank you for finally asking.”
“Can I know what’s in there now?” Nessa said while grabbing for the bag. She accidentally brushed Elise’s hand and saw her gasp at the touch.
Nessa pulled her hand back. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
Elise was frowning. She cleared her throat. “No, no, of course not. Sorry. I had a bit of a strange morning, and it seems to still have me in its grip.”
“Oh? Something happened at work?”
Elise peered at her, like she was trying to read her. Or decide something perhaps? Nessa looked back, unable to help herself from enjoying the view.
Gods, those amber eyes are so bright and pretty.
Elise licked her lips. “No. Not really. It was… you know what, never mind. Let’s just go to our bench by the trees and eat. I have sandwiches filled with yellowfish covered in soured cream today. Who knew that they actually do make sandwiches with something other than than cheese and shrooms in this city?”
“Ha! I certainly didn’t. But I’ll be glad for the change. Let’s go.”
They sauntered over to their usual spot. Elise walked some distance from Nessa, looking like she worried what would happen if they touched. She didn’t seem angry or frightened, though, so Nessa didn’t think she had done something to upset her. When they sat down, Elise sat further away than usual, though she kept glancing over at Nessa, often licking her lips as she did so.
After a moment’s chatting and eating, the awkwardness seemed to pass. Elise began admiring the clothes of the passers-by and telling funny stories of what happened at the printer’s that morning.
Nessa shoved the awkwardness out of her mind. Elise had probably just slept badly. Come to think of it, she had seemed a bit strange when they woke up together. Maybe an early night to catch up on some sleep would be a good idea.
Chapter 19
Northmen, a Haircut, and a Pedal Cycle
Elise woke up with a start. The nightmare was still alive in her mind, haunting her, making her heart race. The room was dark. She leaned on her elbows, peering into the darkness to ensure that none of the monsters had followed her from her horrible dreams.
An arm draped across her chest, pulling her into lying down again. Nessa hummed softly in her sleep and cuddled nearer. Elise’s heartbeat began to slow. Everything was fine. Nessa was here. She was so close, so warm, and the arm that held her was strong but gentle. Elise couldn’t remember being comforted so fast and so completely since she was a child. The breaths that tickled her ear were steady and deep. Elise allowed them to lull her back to sleep.
* * *
The next time she woke, it was to the sound of the church bells chiming six and to Nessa, who was yawning loudly while stretching. Elise blinked to try to get the world into focus. She felt like she was still asleep and knew that if she stayed in bed, she’d fall back into bottomless slumber.
She quickly sat up and without thinking, bent her head down and kissed Nessa’s temple. The warm skin felt so good under her lips. Nessa smelled so lovely. She placed another soft kiss on that temple, a longer one this time. She sat up, looking at Nessa, wondering if she was going to give an indication on if the romantic advance was welcome or not. Suddenly, Nessa’s reaction seemed intensely important. She waited, shallow breaths moving over her slightly parted lips.
Nessa yawned again and then muttered, “Good morning.” Her eyes were still closed, and she was still stretching. Then she added, “Would you mind going out for breakfast today? All the sweeping I’ve done lately is catching up with my muscles, so I want to stay in bed and rest my body a little more.”
Elise’s lips closed with a pop. She covered her body with the sheet, even though she was in her nightwear. “Of course. You stay in bed. I will hurry back.”
Elise got up and started to get ready. As she washed, dressed, and braided her hair, she tried hard to focus on the day ahead and not on those stolen kisses. She was still trying to charm Richards and make him feel like she was the right woman for the job; she couldn’t afford to be distracted.
* * *
It was late afternoon, almost time to close up. Throughout her first few days as a temporary printer’s assistant, Elise had been given all the instructions that Archibald Richards felt she needed to help him operate his expensive printing press. Plenty of practice, too, when he noticed what a quick study she was. While he was dull, the process of printing was exhilarating. She had always loved newspapers and books, and now she would be the midwife who brought them into the world.
At that moment, when they printed the last copies for the day, it wasn't solely excitement that got Elise’s blood pumping. It was also the fear that hit her as she bent over to close the heavy lid of the printing press to squeeze the paper.
Archibald usually did this part, but he had just stepped out to discuss something with a client. Elise was alone and had to bend over to really get her full power into closing the lid. Meaning that she almost put her braid of ebony hair into the printing press.
Luckily, Archibald was still out and didn't see the near accident. She felt certain that he would have thought her a bad candidate for the job if she had caused a scene by hurting herself in her first week. Or even worse, by hurting the printing press.
She promised herself that she would stop by a barber and get one of the short haircuts she had seen women in the city wearing. It would reduce the time of her morning ablutions as well. Combing out her thick mass of hair each morning took an age.
Archibald came back in, and she pretended like nothing had happened, still feeling panic quickening her heartbeat.
“Right, Miss Aelin. It is time to call it a day. You performed in an adequate way, as you have these past five days. The day after tomorrow will be a full week in my employ. Please continue to not disappoint me.”
As usual, he took her daily wage out of his coin purse, and Elise took the coins without counting them.
She curtsied ever so slightly. “I know I said this on my first day here, but thank you again for giving me the chance to help you with this project.”
“No need to keep thanking me. I am glad to employ a fellow midlands-native. Besides, Hunter Smith would not have recommended you unless he believed I would be happy with your performance. He knows I have far too much sway in this city to risk angering
me. I still recommend that you strengthen your arms and back. I see you struggle when you help me turn the handle for the press.”
“Of course, Mr Richards. I will work on my strength so that I am of better use to you during these coming weeks. I know this is an important project. These urgent report leaflets need to reach the public, and they need to do so before the information is old news, so to speak.”
He looked grave. “Precisely. All of Arclid needs to be told what those Northmen are doing. They need to know that what started as experiments with a steam engine and new ways of transport has now changed the very fabric of their society. Everything in Storsund is trains and tracks now. They are racing to the future with steam and leaving us behind.”
Elise had heard some of this at court but never cared enough about what happened on the other three continents to bother finding out more about the railroads being built in Storsund. She was more intrigued now that she had seen the pamphlets they were printing. Besides, getting away from court had made her see that there was a whole world out there. One which was so much more interesting than court intrigue and the latest dance styles.
So, she prompted him on, despite being hungry, tired, and wanting to go out and get her hair cut. “Is that so?”
He clasped his hands behind his back and peered at her over his spectacles. “Yes. Unlike us, the Northmen do not transport their goods via manmade canals and over seas. In fact, they only use ships for transporting to the Western Isles, Obeha, and us these days. Storsund sees us as all as backwards colonies to grow things for them as they evolve. Ever since they laid those tracks and made their steam-powered monstrous creations travel on them. The locomotive and her beastly carriages.” He shook his head. “Terrifying things. Nevertheless, incredibly useful for their economy. The Storsund factories grow huge because they can transport goods in and out without waterways. While we may not want to emulate them, we should not be left behind or be ignorant.”
“I think you are exceedingly correct. I better be going. Have a pleasant evening, Mr Richards. I shall see you tomorrow morning.”
He gave a curt nod. Elise hurried out towards the barbershop, which she had seen on the corner where Miller Street crossed Core Street.
* * *
Half an hour later, Elise walked out of the barbershop with her hair now only reaching as far as her jawline. It was so strange to feel the air against her neck without the weight of a braid or the fullness of a bun. Every time she reached up to touch her hair, she felt a tingle of excitement but also of fear. What if she would regret it? Noble ladies saw their hair as a prime source of beauty and now that source was all but unusable to her.
It does not matter. I am not in Noble circles. I am free to live my life as I wish here in Nightport. All that matters is practicality and my own satisfaction with my looks.
The woman who had looked back at her in the barber’s mirror had been a revelation to Elise. In her new hairstyle she looked more capable, tougher and more confident – or perhaps that was all in her head.
Eager, but still with that worry of regretting the cut gnawing away at her, Elise hurried the short distance back to Miller Street. She passed a large, four-horse carriage. Its driver leaned over and wolf-whistled after her. Elise tried to let her glare show that she did not appreciate being reduced to something which strangers could give their opinion on in regards to attractiveness. That familiar feeling of anger was beginning to thud in her veins.
“Aw, don’t be grumpy. C’mon, pretty. Why so glum?” the driver shouted.
“Perhaps because you are whistling and shouting after me as if you had spotted a carriage you would like to test drive,” Elise snapped. “I am a human being and would like more respect.”
He looked as if she had stepped on his foot. “Blimey! ‘Scuse me. Most of the lasses I know would love to be whistled at when leavin’ the barber’s.”
“Then I suggest you stick to whistling after them. Leave strangers, who have not invited your judgement on their attractiveness, alone.”
Sure, she wanted confirmation that her new hairstyle looked good, but she wanted it in circumstances where she felt comfortable. She had endured being treated like an ornament, or a prize mare, in Noble circles. She would not abide being treated that way here.
However, glaring at the carriage driver who was sheepishly driving off meant that she wasn't looking ahead and therefore did not spot the danger hurtling towards her. In a flurry of limbs, metal, and shouts, Elise and the offending party fell to the ground.
“Ugh. Blimey… Elise?”
She looked up at the sound of her name to see that the idiot who was getting up and casually brushing himself down was none other than Hunter Smith.
Elise pursed her lips as she rose. “You. Why is it always you?” she snarled.
“I’m sorry. I was distracted by the pedals stickin’ a bit. Have ye seen my new pedal cycle? Ain’t she smashin’?” he asked, slipping into his Nightport accent.
Elise looked at the machine — thick metal rods connecting two wheels, a seat, a couple of pedals, and a bar to hold onto. Hunter was currently picking it off the ground with the care of a loving parent.
“A little too closely, you ox-brained cretin! That front wheel nearly smashed my shin. What were you doing driving that contraption so recklessly? I will have huge bruises in the morning thanks to you.”
As with the steam engine in Storsund, Elise had heard of these new transport vehicles at court. Unlike the steam engine, this was an Arclid invention. However, when the subject of these pedal cycles arose, it had always been stated that Nobles travelled by horse. Walking, or in this case pedalling, made you perspire and get out of breath, physical reactions only acceptable in Nobles when engaged in duelling or bedplay.
Hunter winced. “I apologise once more, Miss Aelin.” He gave a stiff bow, eyes fixed on the ground.
Elise quirked an eyebrow. Why was he being so deferential and formal? Not to mention, back to his faked midlands accent.
“I hope you are not seriously injured,” he added.
She noted that he did look truly sorry. And more than a little embarrassed. This wasn’t like the showy, arrogant man she had met before.
She forced herself to calm down and softened her tone. “Nothing but the bruises and some scratches. All things that the printing press could have caused as well. Speaking of which, you neglected to tell me how physical this work would be. I should not complain, of course. It is a good job, and Archibald does the most demanding tasks. Nevertheless, I would have been able to prepare better if I had known.”
He was still not meeting her eyes. “Then I apologise for that too. I did not take that into consideration. I only knew that you needed a job and that old Archibald would adore you.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “We seem to get on well, yes.” She paused, gathering the will to say the next words. “Thank you so much for suggesting me for the job.”
That made Hunter face her again. Elise saw his worry melt away to be replaced with a small smile. “Well now, that ‘thank you’ took some effort.”
Another carriage was on its way, so she and Hunter got off the road and up to the pavement.
Elise rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smiling. “Yes, I suppose it did.”
She was smoothing out her dress and brushing the remaining dust off her shoulders and the back of her freshly cut hair. When she looked up again, she caught Hunter staring at her.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“You. Trying to figure out why you dislike me so much.”
The honesty caught Elise off-guard, as did the question itself. She simply wasn't sure. She was, however, sure that she wanted to return the honesty. It had been a luxury she couldn’t always afford at court.
“I will be utterly frank with you. I am not completely certain why.”
Hunter scratched the back of his neck, nearly dropping the heavy pedal cycle which seemed to require both hands. “Well, then. L
et us try to figure it out together. You were a little cold at the start of our acquaintance. Nothing strange in that, some people react like that to me at first. However, most of them thaw to me, while you merely grew colder. That night when the three of us ate together, your annoyance only seemed to increase, no matter how I tried to charm you.”
Elise stalled for time, stomping road dust off her boots. How much did she want to say? She knew that she was not ready to talk about jealousy and Nessa.
“I believe one of the reasons is that I feel that I cannot trust you. You put up a front, and I suppose that is something I struggle with. My parents had a polished, forced façade, which is common in Highmere. I grew up trying to get behind it. To get to the people I loved, hidden under all that pretence. The life I led before coming to Nightport — it was generally rife with insincerity and people playing games.” It was hard to talk about this and avoid the words ‘Noble’ or ‘court’. She bit her tongue.
Hunter was quiet for a moment. “Yes, I do have a front. My fathers raised me to have it when they realised I was different. What way I am different does not matter now. What matters is that growing up in Nightport is hard. Especially when you grow up poor. These streets can swallow you whole and spit you out into a life of crime and poverty.”
He stopped speaking and looked down at the pedal cycle in his hands. Elise could see him grip the handle bar tighter. When he carried on, his voice sounded almost confrontational.
“That was what happened to my birthmother. That and the fact that she was not parent material, made her adopt me away to my fathers. Something I do not regret. They may have suggested I cultivate a facade to hide how different I was, but they did it out of love and care. They did everything for me out of love and care.”
“They sound like good parents,” Elise said, trying to calm the waves.
“They were. We never had much coin, but they lived an honest and hardworking life and made sure I always had food and shelter. Which was much more than most kids in Nightport had before the factories opened and the city grew.”
Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1) Page 16