Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  “It sounds tough. Tougher than I, with my sheltered childhood, can imagine,” Elise admitted.

  Hunter shrugged and tried for his charming smile. He couldn’t quite manage it, and it died on his lips, leaving him looking vulnerable.

  His chin trembled. “My front… do you know what it hides? Has someone told you? You seemed to have guessed when we spoke the other night, and you are not asking any questions about it now.”

  Elise opened her mouth to play coy and pretend not to know what he meant.

  Honesty, Elisandrine. Remember?

  She lowered her voice so no one on the street could hear her. “When we met, I assumed you were hiding something. You appeared to be compensating for something with that over-the-top flirting. Then our landlady confirmed that you… do not have the voracious sexual appetite you pretend to have.”

  He blew out a shaky breath. “You could put it like that. The truth is that anything more physical than a friendly embrace makes me break out into a cold sweat. I cannot see what is so enjoyable about physicality.”

  Elise wasn’t sure what to say. She had always been very fond of being physical with people, be it stroking a friend’s hair or a lover’s breast, but she’d never analysed why. It had simply seemed natural.

  Hunter continued. “I am glad that you know my secret. My employers — both Mr Hampton and the employers I work for in the evenings — are asking questions and throwing jibes at me. I need to produce a sexual partner to show them soon or they will start asking more serious questions. I think you would be a wonderful choice to act the part. Purely act, mind you. No actual bedplay involved. You know my secret, you are a good person, and you are attractive. Anyone who would see you on my arm would think I have struck gold!”

  Elise felt her forehead furrow. “I… I do not believe that is a good idea. These deceptions never work for long. And it pains me to see you working so hard to cover who you really are. You should be proud of yourself. What does it matter to them if you take a lover or not? Just tell them the truth. They might react at first, but if you weather that shock, I am certain they will come to regard it as normal soon enough.”

  Hunter scoffed. “Not in this town. Especially not in the night-time enclaves. You fight and fuck or you are a nobody, an outsider without power or stature.”

  Elise shrunk back at the profanity.

  Hunter held out a hand. “I am so sorry for my language! I am growing desperate as I receive more and more questions regarding my personal life. My deepest apologies. I have offended you and will not press the issue further.”

  She nodded, unsure. She couldn’t hide being flattered that he had chosen her to be his acted partner, but the whole situation had made her uncomfortable. Her attraction to Nightport had taken a serious blow at hearing Hunter’s story.

  He peered at her from under long lashes, like a dog fearing a beating. The silence marched on; Elise was growing impatient and hungry.

  Hunter looked down at his dapper clothes. He must have spotted that his initial brush-off had only gotten about half of the road dust because he attempted to brush down his yellow waistcoat and cream shirt with one hand. When he spotted that his tweed trousers were in even worse condition, he began to look around.

  “Where can I lean this?”

  “Anywhere but the wall next to us,” Elise replied.

  She was in no doubt that he could smell the stink of the paint that was freshly applied to the wall. He grunted in agreement. His eyes kept darting around for a place to put the cycle. She could see his knuckles turning white with the panicked grip on the cycle and his nose scrunching up when he looked down at the dirt on his expensive clothes.

  Elise sighed. “Here, let me help you. Take your time. Your pedal cycle and I are not going anywhere.”

  With gentle hands, she took the cycle out of Hunter’s grip. He immediately began to slap the dust off his trousers and wipe at his waistcoat and shirt. When he was as stainless as he could be without water, he smiled up at her, carefully at first, but the smile grew much bigger than the gesture should warrant.

  “Thank you. Does this mean you are warming to me?”

  Elise quirked an eyebrow and tersely replied, “I make no promises, Mr Smith.”

  “Ha! You really do blow hot and cold, don’t you?”

  “So I have been told,” she answered.

  Too temperamental. Too impulsive. Those moods swings of yours will get us all in trouble one day, my girl. You start fires wherever you go, simply by letting your heart dictate your mouth and your actions.

  Elise could hear her father’s words as if he had spoken them into her mind just now. The pang of missing him returned in full force. She shrugged it off best she could, raising an eyebrow at Hunter and asking, “Speaking of hot and cold, are you not freezing without a coat?”

  He puffed out his chest. “No. Being on the move has kept me warm. Besides, this waistcoat is very thick as well as being new. Is it not to die for?”

  Elise looked at the garishly yellow waistcoat. “It is certainly… unique. Catches the eye.”

  Hunter beamed as he took the pedal cycle back. “You know, you seem to like me better when I am not flirting. Especially when I am not flirting with Nessa. I cannot figure you two out. One moment you seem like new friends and the other like lifelong lovers. May I ask what you are to each other?”

  Elise crossed her arms over her chest. “No, you may not.”

  He whistled low. “There is a lot of passion and fire in those golden eyes all of a sudden. Definitely not just friends then. Lovers?”

  She scoffed, feeling herself grimace and fidget. Maybe she should leave before this got even more private?

  “Aha! That body language puts you in either the lover-with-issues bracket or perchance the unrequited love bracket. Does the lovely country lass not share your passion? Could someone resist the impressive Elise Aelin?”

  He stopped smirking at her since he was busy checking the pedal cycle for damage. She took the chance to mull over how much she was willing to divulge. Nothing about where she was from, of course. There was a tiny chance that she was still hunted. But what could it hurt to tell him about Nessa? Gods knew she needed to air her thoughts.

  “I am unsure what she wants. For someone so transparent and honest, she is strangely hard to read at the present.” Elise’s voice sounded petulant to her own ears, but she didn't care. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t know where they stood.

  “But you want her in your bed?”

  “Actually, she already is. We share a bed to save some coin.”

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant. In your arms.”

  Elise sighed and looked up at the sky. “She is quite often that, too. We sleep in each other’s embrace most nights. It is a small bed, and the draught from the window means body heat is necessary. Nevertheless, I understood your meaning. And yes, I want to be in her heart.”

  Hunter waggled his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “What about between her legs?”

  She slapped his arm. “Show some respect, you knave.” She gave a reluctant shrug. “But yes, that, too.”

  Reading the tone in Elise’s voice or perhaps the look on her face, Hunter dropped the subject.

  “Oh, by the way, I like your hair like that. It suits your personality. Forceful and attractive.”

  Elise searched his face. For a moment she thought he was back to hiding behind the façade of the master seducer. Looking closer, she decided he was in earnest.

  Elise adjusted her hair, curling it inwards towards her face. “Thank you. Do you…” She hesitated. Should she really give him something to mock her for? She’d have to risk it, she needed a friend in this harsh city. “Do you think Nessa will like it?”

  He smiled, not unkindly. “Yes. I think she will love it.”

  Elise fidgeted with the sleeve of her coat. “Would you come with me and find out? We can go pick Nessa up, and later you can buy me one of those terrible pies as an apology for dri
ving that contraption right into me.”

  Hunter beamed. “It would be my honour to do so. I was heading back to Miller Street, anyway.”

  They walked the short distance to the lodging house with the pedal cycle between them. It seemed to have taken the place of the animosity that lingered before.

  * * *

  Elise found herself knocking on her own door. She didn't want to let herself in with Hunter in tow. What if Nessa was changing her clothes? Or lying down for a nap before supper?

  After a moment, Nessa opened the door. As soon as she saw who it was, she asked, “Where have you been? You must have left work quite a while ago.”

  Then she stopped and looked at Elise in puzzlement. Soon the facial expression morphed into joy.

  “Your hair. It's so short! Don't tell me your master cuts your hair? The Brownlees won't even share a water glass with me,” Nessa joked.

  Elise shook her head. “You know very well that I am not allowed a master, only an employer. You are an apprentice learning a craft; I am a mere assistant doing the dullest of the chores, acting as a conversation partner for a bored printer. Who, I hasten to add, would not be allowed to come anywhere near my hair.”

  Nessa sniggered. “Well, whoever cut it, I like it. It's going to be so much more practical for you. No long hair to spend an eternity washing in the bath. Or to comb and braid every morning.”

  Elise hummed her agreement. “In addition, it will not get stuck in a printing press or dipped in ink either.”

  “It will also keep your neck cool in the summer. Although you can’t do this,” Hunter added while twirling his long ponytail in a coquettish manner, making them all laugh.

  “Good evening, Hunter. Sorry for not seeing you at first,” Nessa said.

  “Not a problem. You seemed busy admiring Elise.”

  Elise elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Oof. I mean to say, Elise’s new hairstyle,” he amended.

  The usual pink blush painted Nessa’s cheeks. “I guess I must h-have been. Um, what is that?” She pointed at the pedal cycle in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Both Elise and Hunter played along.

  Elise scoffed. “That is what he used to run me over in the middle of the street. This is apparently how Mr Smith makes friends.”

  “Oh, we are friends now?” he asked with big eyes and a playful smirk.

  When Elise didn't answer but simply rolled her eyes, Hunter looked back at Nessa. “It is my pedal cycle. Now, I have promised to buy Elise a pie as an apology for our run-in. However, after we have all braved stomach ailments by eating the pies downstairs, I can show you how to ride the cycle if you like?”

  Nessa looked like a child seeing the sun after a long winter. “Yes, please!”

  * * *

  Elise sniggered at Nessa’s attempts to open the door to their room. Drunk on too many ales and exhilarated by her ridiculous attempt to ride the pedal cycle, Nessa tried to get the key into the lock and had to give up.

  Elise snatched the key from her. “I will do it as I am less inebra… inabr… inibriated.”

  “Thank you. The door hates me,” Nessa slurred.

  Hunter misjudged the distance between himself and the corridor wall, causing him to crash into it more than the suave leaning he had probably been aiming for. “So tired. I am going to go in search of my room. What floor am I on?”

  “Um. Third, I think,” Nessa replied.

  “Third?” He seemed to ponder it while he adjusted his waistcoat. “Yes, third.”

  Elise managed to unlock the door and nearly fell through as it opened.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening,” Hunter mumbled.

  Elise looked at him with scepticism. “Not much to thank us for. It was merely some bad pies, far too much ale, and then you two falling about on that cycle and nearly hitting a man rolling his vegetable cart home.”

  Hunter shook his head violently. “It was something to thank you for because it was an evening where I could unwind and be honest. That is the base of our alliance now, is it not? We are honest with each other. All the time.” He looked directly at Elise when he spoke those last words.

  She swallowed, wishing she dared to be completely honest with him. “Right, yes. Of course. Anyway, we should go in before Nessa falls over. Goodnight, Hunter, and thank you for the pie.”

  He inclined his head. “Thank you for buying most of the ale. Have sweet dreams.” Then he poked Nessa’s shoulder. “Make sure no nightmares haunt my new friend’s sleep. I am making that your official duty.”

  Nessa gave the traditional raised fist of the Arclid Navy. “Aye, aye, captain!”

  Hunter guffawed and then trotted off while humming the Navy’s official song.

  Nessa followed Elise into their room and stood there, smiling at her.

  “What?” Elise asked while closing the door.

  “You’re so pretty. I love your hair like this. It was beautiful before but this… this looks more like the real Elise.”

  Nessa ran her fingers through her hair, getting her fingers stuck on a snag on one side. She abandoned the snag and began drunkenly patting Elise’s hair instead. “It’s so thick and nice to touch. Whoever ends up as your lover in the city, they will be lucky to get to play with this soft, short hair. Lucky, lucky them.”

  Nessa let go of her hair and began clumsily taking her coat off and hanging it up. Elise was left standing there, dismayed to find that her heart ached at the thought of Nessa not even considering herself an option. Or perhaps she didn’t want to be her lover?

  Perhaps I should simply ask her.

  No, their friendship and status as roommates were essential to Elise. Nessa had quickly become her safety. Her home. Nessa wasn’t as much of a social creature as she was; if she made Nessa uncomfortable, it was possible that she would cut ties and go it alone.

  I must avoid that. I need Nessa. Curse it all. What if I need her as more than a friend or roommate? What if I need her as more than even a lover?

  She shook her head to clear it and too keep herself from starting to question why she wasn’t attracting Nessa to her. Best to get ready for bed and sleep the ale off. She had work in the morning.

  Although it was no use. Her mind churned on, trying to figure out why Nessa didn’t want her as more than a friend, travel companion, roommate, and cuddly toy.

  Because is that going to be enough for me and my dumb heart? If so, for how long? Perhaps fate did not choose so perfectly for me after all.

  Chapter 20

  Sweet Cream and Lemon Water

  Nessa woke up feeling uneasy. The memory of Elise shying away from her all night haunted her into the waking world. Elise had seemed to refuse to sleep near her, meaning that she was so on the edge of the bed that she was nearly falling off it. Elise avoiding her touch made Nessa’s stomach roil and ache. She had to snap out of it.

  She opened her bleary eyes. All she could see was smooth, sand-coloured skin. Nessa blinked the worst of the sleep grit away. Into focus came a jugular, the start of shoulders with white straps of a nightdress, and a pair of exquisitely sculpted clavicles below. Nessa blinked again. Elise was so close to her that she could see every pore of the skin on her throat and every deep breath making the shoulders and clavicles lift and sink.

  It was hypnotizing. She had never seen waves move in and out against a shore, but she imagined it would look like this. Elise was always beautiful, but sleeping so innocently, she was exquisite. Nessa lay still as a statue, feeling her cheeks heat up. It was like she was watching something she shouldn’t. Something too intimate for people who weren’t lovers. Something too intimate for people who had slept in the same narrow bed without making contact all night.

  Their bodies were so close to each other right now that she could feel the warmth coming off Elise’s skin, but no part of them was touching. There appeared to be a thin wall of air placed there to keep them apart. Nessa watched the slender neck in front of her as Elise swallowed, the movements so
delicate and slow.

  She wasn't quite sure why she inched forward so that her nose nearly rubbed against the column of Elise's throat, but she did, as if pulled in by magnetic force. She wasn't quite sure why she breathed in so deeply either. Elise didn't smell of the sugar pumpkin oil or the shared bathroom’s rose-scented soap. Nor of the printer’s ink that sometimes clung to her clothes and hair after work. She smelled only of herself. It was that secret scent which Nessa had found herself appreciating every morning. She wasn’t very good at describing smells, but since she got to know Elise, and her overly keen sense of smell, she had been inspired to try it out.

  What exactly does Elise smell of?

  Nessa tried to pinpoint it, wanting to distract herself from thoughts of what had made Elise so distant last night. She filled her nose and lungs with the scent. It was warm, sweet, but with a vaguely tart, fresh edge. Sweet cream and lemon water? Close, but not exactly right. It could only be described as the smell of Elise. Her Elise. No, she wasn't hers. Elise could never belong to anyone, but particularly not to a dull, farm mouse like Nessa.

  Elise sighed in her sleep. It sounded sad. Nessa winced at the sound of it.

  Did I make her sad? Did I say or do something inappropriate last night in my drunken folly? Why did I have all those gods-forsaken ales?

  This was what she got for drinking mindlessly while listening to Hunter talk about his pedal cycle and tell tales of famous Nightport people. Everything from noted singers to Eil Cowalski — Nightport’s most famous serial killer, who committed more than a dozen brutal murders before being caught.

  Thoughts of the darker side of Nightport made her recall Elise saying that Hunter had some less respectable part-time job outside of his work for the solicitor. She would have to ask her about that. If Elise was still speaking to her.

  Her stomach ached even more now, and she knew it wasn’t because of hunger or her hangover. She had to get up and get some breakfast. Focus on the real world and not brooding about Elise.