Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  * * *

  Nessa pulled the collar on her leather coat up, but it wasn’t keeping her cheeks safe from the foggy, chilly morning. She was walking back to 21 Miller Street from the bakery, breakfast procured. She dodged a tatty child who appeared to be running right for her. A few days ago, she’d been warned by Secilia about beggar children who smashed into you and emptied your pockets as you were both getting up. Nessa was slowly but surely learning the ways of the city.

  Thinking about the child reminded her of that strange package that was dropped off with their landlady by a little street urchin. Strange that they never heard any more about that. Still, that must prove it was a mistake. The odd package in the expensive midnight blue wrapping paper and white string was clearly meant for someone else. What other solution could there be?

  Her stomach growled, taking her mind off both children and strange packages. Since they were both were in employment, Nessa had sprung for some more expensive, sweeter rolls today. These ones might not have dust or ash added to the flour to fill them out. She had even picked up a bottle of honeyed winterberry juice.

  The warm, sweet scents in the bakery had made the badly hungover Nessa, feel famished. She had begun nibbling on one of the freshly baked rolls the second she had paid for them. She was still eating one now and was therefore reduced to a simple nod when their landlady looked up from surveying her nails to greet her.

  As she walked upstairs, her thoughts were on Elise. Was there something wrong between them? If there was, would they be able to talk about it? How she wished she were better at these things.

  Let’s face it, my awfulness at serious conversations could be overcome if she was less impressive. How can I talk about my feelings and shortcomings with someone so superior? How can I make her understand how my mind works?

  Steeling herself with a deep breath, Nessa opened the door to their room and snuck in to wake Elise.

  Chapter 21

  A Visitor from Ground Hollow

  Elise woke up to the smell of baked goods and the sensation of someone brushing hair out of her face.

  She heard Nessa softly say, “Good morning. I bought some sweet rolls and winterberry juice. It does wonders for an ale-drenched head. According to the man at the bakery, Saint Alsager’s bells are going to chime six soon. So, you’ll have to wake up now if you don’t want to hurry while hungover.”

  Elise left her eyes closed for a moment longer, determining how she would behave towards Nessa. Last night’s thoughts of Nessa not returning her burgeoning affections had weighed heavy on her during the night, making her avoid touching Nessa. Considering how drunk Nessa had been, she probably hadn’t even noticed.

  But she would notice today, so how should she behave? The decision only took a moment. It wasn’t Nessa’s fault that she didn’t feel the way Elise did. It would be unfair to punish her for it.

  Elise forced a smile and opened her eyes. “Good morning. That smells lovely. Give me one of those rolls, please?”

  She saw Nessa smile back at her and tried to read that smile. Was that relief?

  “Of course. Hang on,” Nessa said. She began rummaging in her satchel and produced two and a half sweet rolls. The half one had clear bite marks.

  Elise laughed. “How many rolls were there before you starred chomping?”

  “Um. Four,” Nessa admitted with a sheepish grin.

  “Well, it would seem I will have to try to catch up then. Could you pour the juice? We will need to drink a lot to flush the ale out of our bodies. I learned that at court.”

  Nessa raised her eyebrows. “Hmm. I guess that makes sense.”

  Elise took a bite of one of the rolls while watching Nessa reach into the bag to get the winterberry juice. She thought about asking where their tin mug was but realised that her new life was one where you drank straight from the bottle. Mainly to save yourself having to wash your mug fifteen times a day.

  She watched Nessa’s hands as they held the large bottle and uncorked it deftly. They were practical, slightly calloused hands, used to work and heavy lifting. And yet they were so nimble. So elegant and feminine in their quick, lithe movements. Realising that her gaze on those slender fingers was turning distinctly erotic, Elise returned to eating her breakfast with shame burning in her belly. She had to respect Nessa’s wish to be platonic. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nessa sit down on the bed and rub her temples.

  “Headache?”

  Nessa gave a curt nod. “Like a dozen little carpenters are working with hammers and nails inside my head.”

  “Reaping the reward of all that ale. Now, drink as much of that juice as you can. You have to go be a good little apprentice soon and that hair of yours is not even braided properly, more strands than normal are falling out.”

  Nessa groaned and downed gulps of juice.

  Elise hesitated. This was unquestionably a bad idea, but so irresistible. “Would you… I mean, I could… would you like me to braid it for you?” she asked, heart pounding.

  Nessa swallowed her juice with a loud gulp. She looked wide-eyed at Elise for a moment. Elise’s palms were growing damp. She wished Nessa would hurry up and answer.

  “Um. Well, I s-suppose you don’t have to braid your own this morning, so sure. If you don’t m-mind?”

  Elise gave a minute shake of the head, fetched the brush, and stood behind the bed Nessa was still sat on. She undid the messy braid Nessa had made before going out and watched the long strands of straight, almond-brown hair drape over Nessa’s shoulders and down her back. She picked up the brush and began running it through the tresses, an intimate and familiar gesture. Like their mothers had brushed their hair. Like animals groomed each other. Like lovers caressed each other.

  Her heart pounded so fast that it ached. Or maybe the pain was more connected to emotion. She kept combing, turning adorable tangles into a beautiful, smooth mane which glistened in the morning light. She wished she could do the same with her feelings. And Nessa’s apparent lack of them.

  Nessa winced loudly as Elise hit a tangle.

  “Oh, I am so frightfully sorry.”

  Nessa laughed. “Don’t sound so anxious. It hurts when someone brushes out the snags. You know that. Relax, I can take it.”

  Elise swallowed thickly. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

  She continued brushing, more carefully now. She tried to sing as she did it, to prove her comfort with the situation. But as her voice trembled unpleasantly, she soon stopped. When she was done combing, Elise put the brush down and hesitated with her hands hovering over Nessa’s head. It felt strange to plunge her fingers into the curtains of hair. Into something so intimate and deeply connected with Nessa. She always had her hair in that braid, seeing it down was a rare treat. Touching it while it was down, now that was a gift. Elise bit her lip hard.

  Get yourself together. Nessa is a practical woman. She does not see a gift here, she sees a person helping another person of the same household get to work faster.

  She slid her fingers into the mane of hair and began dividing it into three parts to braid it. The hair felt warm and even softer now that it was brushed. The sensation of its texture against her fingers was wonderful, and so she took her time.

  She wondered if Nessa had her eyes closed. She wondered if Nessa enjoyed it when her fingers accidentally brushed her neck occasionally. She wondered what she could do to make Nessa want her in the way she wanted Nessa; every way.

  * * *

  Elise had been kept late by Archibald, who wanted to discuss the riots in Nightport’s clothing factories. He was appalled that the workers demanded better pay and shorter hours. It was all Elise could do to not tell him that he was severely lacking in empathy.

  She was finally walking home now and felt her shoulders relax as she thought about a quiet evening with Nessa. And preferably food that wasn’t those awful pies.

  She looked up as she neared 21 Miller Street and saw Nessa standing outside, speaking to someone. It was a tall, dark-sk
inned, broad-shouldered man. They were close to the wall and speaking in hushed voices, faces close to each other to hear over the commotion of the street. When Elise could see the man’s profile and the spectacles on his nose, she recognised him as someone she had met once – Nessa’s friend Layden.

  Nessa was biting her lip and frowning. Elise hurried her steps over to them.

  “Good afternoon, or evening, if you prefer. Is everything in order here?” she asked.

  Nessa jumped ever so slightly. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry. Layden just found me. He, um, came all the way from Ground Hollow to tell me something.”

  Layden bowed to Elise. “Hello, milady… I mean, miss. I should have come earlier as the events I was reporting on took place three days ago. But Isobel has been poorly so I’ve been caring for her and our daughter.”

  Elise looked from Nessa to Layden, before saying, “I am sure that is fine. What was it you came to tell us? Or was it solely news for Nessa? Are her parents safe and in good health?”

  “Oh yes, Carryanne and Jon are fine,” he hurried to reassure her. “They send some supplies and their regards. In fact, what happened to me happened to them as well.”

  “And what was that?” Elise asked while stretching her stiff neck. She was trying to ignore her empty stomach and aching muscles. This was bound to be something important.

  Layden swallowed. “A gang of men on horseback came to ask me questions. Questions about Nessa and about you.”

  Elise looked to Nessa for confirmation. “About us? Not just me?”

  Nessa frowned. “No, and Layden told me that they didn’t look like Royal guards.”

  “No, they wore some sort of dark green uniform, like they were trying to blend into the forest. Not the Royal colours. The uniforms certainly didn’t have the crest on them either. When I asked how long Macray would search for you, trying to get more information, they laughed and said that Macray wasn’t behind this. One of them said that it was common knowledge that he is already happily engaged to another lady in waiting.” He dropped his gaze. “And from the rumours around town, he is not waiting and being chaste for the lady in question. Several villagers have been up to the castle to… pay him a visit.”

  Elise scoffed. “Well, that is one part of all this that does not surprise me.”

  “Never mind what the prince does. I’m more worried about these strange men in forest green,” Nessa said.

  Elise felt her forehead furrow as she looked back at Layden. “They were definitely not Royal guards?”

  He straightened, looking affronted. “I come from a village which neighbours one of the biggest royal castles. Do you honestly think I can’t spot Royal guards? I grew up with their big horses frequently trampling my mother’s garden and laughing at her when she had to replant. I know Royal guards when I see them.”

  “Yes, yes of course. I did not mean to doubt you. It is simply that I cannot think of anyone other than the Royals who might wish to find me. It cannot be my mother since she would, if she against all odds did want to find me, do it quietly and discreetly. My very existence shames her now. She would come herself or send a couple of footmen, not hire ‘a gang of men’ as you put it, Layden. Too much attention.”

  Nessa put a hand on her arm. “Well, I am fairly certain it’s you they’re after. I’m of no value or interest to anyone but my parents. Think harder. Can you think of anyone else, friend or foe, who might want to find you? Perhaps just to speak with you?”

  Elise sifted through everyone at court and in her old home. “No. The Queen, Macray, and my mother are the only ones who would care if I vanished in a cloud of smoke. To be honest, they all want me to vanish. Probably even the Queen, considering how I disobeyed her marital decree. I would be more use to them forgotten than brought back and punished – that would only make them look bad as they could not keep me in check. No, I cannot think of anyone.”

  Layden hummed. “Well, I recommend that you keep thinking. They were very insistent on finding you.”

  “What exactly did you tell them?” Nessa asked.

  “The truth seemed best since they already knew that you had left together and that you were heading to Nightport. I don’t know if they got that information from your parents or someone else.”

  “Probably from Macray, if they managed to get an audience with him between copulations,” Elise muttered.

  Layden spluttered out a cough. “Yes, perhaps. Either way, they knew that much and merely asked if I knew where in Nightport you were heading and if you planned to stay there.”

  Nessa stopped biting her lip. “And you answered?”

  He shrugged. “That I didn’t know. That you didn’t give details.”

  “Good lad,” Nessa said and squeezed Layden’s shoulder.

  “Let us hope everyone said the same. At least no one knew where we were going to get rooms. Especially not that loose-lipped Macray,” Elise said. Something hit her. “Wait. How did you find us?”

  Nessa chuckled. “Hunter. Layden showed up at the gates to Nightport this afternoon and started asking anyone who passed about us. Hunter has ears everywhere and came to the glassblower’s to tell me about it, with a description of the man asking for us. I begged my masters for some time off and promised that I’d be back tonight to clean up the workshop. Then I made my way down to the gates and picked Layden up.”

  Elise squinted at him. “How exactly did you enquire about us?”

  “Pardon?” Layden asked with knitted brows.

  Nessa gave Elise a warm smile. “Don’t worry, heartling. He didn’t mention who and what you are. He merely described our looks and when and how we must have arrived.”

  Elise let out a long breath. “Good. That is all right then.” There was a strange tingling going through her body.

  Heartling. Did Nessa really call me heartling?

  “Yes. Oh, right, that’s what you meant. Nessa did tell me that you were hiding your Noble origin,” Layden whispered.

  Elise smiled to put him at ease. “Hence you stopping yourself from calling me ‘milady’ earlier. Thank you for that concern. Well, we should not be discussing this out here. We can go to our rooms so you can leave your satchel there and wash the road dust off. Then perhaps we can all have a spot of supper and take a stroll? You can show us where you used to study, Layden.”

  Nessa crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah, no. I need to get back and clean the workshop, remember?”

  Elise took in the sulking beauty in front of her. “There is only one thing for it, then. We shall all go clean the workshop.”

  Nessa and Layden both stared at her.

  “We?” Nessa asked.

  “Yes. We will bring a bottle of winterberry brandy and make the chore a light one. Sweeping is so much more fun when you are drunk and singing rude songs,” Elise said.

  Layden laughed. “Look at that smirk. You have mischief in your blood, don’t you? Well, as long as I can have some bread with that brandy and a place to put this satchel.” He stopped to point at Nessa. “Which your mother stuffed with glass jars of scented oil and dried fruit, by the way. Then I am willing to help clean and sing rude songs.”

  Nessa was chewing her lower lip. “Yes, I suppose we can get it done quicker that way. Then get back to discussing who it is that is asking questions about us.”

  Elise observed Nessa’s stoic expression and rigid posture. She was going to help this woman stop constantly worrying one day. Maybe it was tonight? She hoped it was tonight. She wanted to see Nessa relax and enjoy herself.

  And she really wanted Nessa to call her ‘heartling’ again.

  Chapter 22

  The Goblin’s Tavern

  Doubt crept up Nessa’s spine. Was this really a good idea? The brandy was already clouding her judgement even though she had only had a few mouthfuls. What if she missed cleaning something? She forced her mind to clear a bit and went through the list in her head.

  One. Sweep the floors. Layden was doing that, and as someone who
had apprenticed under a master apothecary, he clearly knew how thorough you had to be. No dust or dirt could be allowed to swirl around the workshop and tarnish the melted glass.

  Two. Check on the furnace. She had just finished that job, one she knew Josiah was very particular about. A glassblower’s furnace had to keep an even temperature so it was never allowed to go out. That was why most glassblowers lived so close to the furnace. But when Nessa was around, it was her job to keep the fire burning. It roared perfectly now, despite the drunkenness of its current maintainer.

  Three. Make sure all tools are cleaned and in their proper places. With some direction, Elise was doing that. It had seemed the least physical job but the fiddliest, so Elise had been the obvious candidate for it.

  Nessa squinted over at her, wondering if she should help her hold the heavy blowpipe Elise was currently struggling with. Working with the printing press might be giving the Noble lady more muscles, but they weren’t ready for glassblowing work, that was for sure. Still, she managed it and was clearly making a real effort to be respectful and precise. Blowpipe in place, Elise went back to the bottle filled with reddish-brown liquid and took a swig.

  Nessa stood up, wiped her brow, and went to join her. She didn’t know why. She should check on Layden. Why was she heading towards Elise? It wasn’t for the brandy, although that was what she was going to use as an excuse.

  The room smelled of burnt wood, molten glass, and hot metal. It was a heavy but wonderful smell, not stifling like the one that always came from the open windows of Nightport’s factories. As Nessa got closer to Elise, the smell mixed with the strong brandy on their breaths and the sugar pumpkin oil that Elise was wearing. She was using the oil frequently now, not solely in the morning and evening. Nessa would catch her sniffing the jar and smiling before applying it liberally. It was a good thing that Layden had brought more little jars from back home. They were close to running out.