Tinderbox Under Winter Stars

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Nessa’s mouth watered. “I tried sugar once. My friend Layden was bribed with a few sugarplums from Prince Macray’s confectioner… long story. Anyway, he shared them with me. They tasted so different. Not like things using our usual sweeteners, honey and sugar pumpkin. I can see why it’s costly.”

  Anja finished her wine. “Mm. What about Elise? Has she tried it?”

  “Probably. I bet there was lots of it at court. Um, I mean around court, back in Highmere. Did I t-tell you that Elise is from Highmere? I forget. Being tired m-makes me forgetful,” Nessa stammered.

  Gods-cursed idiot! Don’t let your guard down. That’s how you end up bloody talking about court or the Queen.

  Anja shrugged. “With that accent, it was obvious.”

  “Where’d they go? Can you see them?” Albert piped up from behind them.

  “Over there,” Anja said, pointing to a tent on the other side of the ice.

  The tent had probably been white once. Now age and the shadows of nearby pine trees coloured it various shades of beige and grey. If the tent was underwhelming, the wares inside it were all the more astounding, much like the woman selling them. Nessa watched as the heavyset, rosy-cheeked blonde showed off her sugar creations.

  Her hair is so white it makes the snow and sugar look dark. Is this one of the people from the north? What were they called? Viss?

  Nessa’s eyes drifted to the marvellous wares before her. Small sugar-paste figurines stood out, shaped like everything from cats to court jesters. They were so smooth, white, and decadent that they looked like frozen cream. Behind them were glass jars filled with little balls with dark centres covered in thin, semi-transparent layers of white.

  “Surely they’re not pure sugar?” Nessa asked the crowd in general, pointing at those jars.

  “No, no, silly Arclidian girl. Let me explain. They’re comfits – bits of spice or seeds covered in layers of sugar,” Albert said, puffing his chest out. “The jars on the other side, the ones with round red and yellow clear things? Those are boiled sweets. And the colourful squares next to them – they’re candied pieces of fruit.”

  Nessa bit down the sarcastic reply that even backwards Arclidians had heard of candied fruit.

  In a tent opposite, a singer started crooning in Sundish, accompanied by a violinist. Anja, Eleonora, and Albert moved closer to listen. Nessa stayed with Sonja and Elise, marvelling at the sugar work.

  “They are all so dainty and beautiful,” Elise whispered. She was holding Sonja by the hand, and they were both staring at the figurines.

  Reverently, Sonja said, “I want a… um… the girls that dance pretty.”

  Elise bent down, probably to follow the girl’s gaze. “A ballerina? Good choice.”

  Elise turned to Nessa, raising her eyebrows in silent question. Nessa gave her the coin purse and a smile, which was returned before Elise approached the confectioner.

  “Hello, madam. What a marvellous array of treats you have! May we please have three sugar ballerinas? One for me, one for the little princess here, and one for my beautiful wife.”

  The confectioner smiled. “Of course, miss. Three pretty ballerinas to dance on your tongue.” She gently placed the figurines into a small paper bag and handed them over. “That will be six coppers.”

  Elise looked at the tiny sugar creations, then at the coin purse, and finally over at Nessa. “That is rather steep for a treat. Perhaps we will only purchase a ballerina for Sonja?”

  Nessa’s heart stung.

  Bugger stressing over coin tonight. Splash out. Your cherished shouldn’t have to give up all her treats because you can’t stop worrying about coin. It’ll be all right. You won’t starve.

  She smiled at Elise. “No, I think we’ll have all three.”

  Elise tilted her head, a line between her sculpted brows.

  Nessa nodded encouragingly. “It’s all right, heartling. They’re so special and I want you to have one. We brought enough for food and drinks tonight. Besides, it’s the frost faire. This is not a place to be saving your coin.”

  With a flush, Elise smiled and blinked her golden eyes, setting Nessa’s heart fluttering.

  Anja appeared beside them. “For snow’s sake! Stop looking all gooey-eyed and buy the treats. A line is forming.”

  The line was only one man and he seemed in no hurry, but Elise obeyed her new boss and handed over the coppers. Sonja and Elise hurried off with their treasure. Nessa followed, having to admit that she looked forward to tasting the sugar. They stopped next to the tent, the pine trees rustling gently in the wind above them.

  “Go on. Try them,” Eleonora prompted.

  Elise handed the ballerinas out. Sonja took hers with less care and reverence than Nessa and Elise. Whether that was due to her age or because she was more likely to receive another one from her parents if she broke this one, Nessa couldn’t tell.

  Elise placed the ballerina in her palm and made it spin around.

  Sonja laughed. “She dances! Again, again!”

  Why did that child seem so much more palatable when she was with Elise? Nessa marvelled at the love of her life as she spun the little figurine again, making Sonja giggle and clap.

  Then Sonja popped her ballerina into her mouth and crunched down on it, breaking the magic that Nessa had been caught up in. Elise gave the child an admonishing look, tapered down with a patient smile. Then she gently, almost tenderly, placed her own ballerina on her tongue and closed her mouth.

  Nessa watched as Elise sucked on the sugar figurine with eyes as wide as her smile. It filled Nessa’s belly with butterflies.

  “Looks like the ballerinas are as yummy as they’re pretty,” Albert said with a chuckle. “I wonder how they’re made. I bet the sugar arrives in big blocks, like ice or wood, yes? Then the figurines are carved in a factory, by clever machines.”

  Elise shook her head. “Simpler creations are made in factories. Art like this is handmade by confectioners. That, and the price of the imported sugar – cane sugar from the Western Isles or sugar beets from Arclid – is why these are expensive. It is exported in sugar loaves, millions of granules squeezed together in a cone shape,” she explained around a mouthful of ballerina. “Then the confectioners, only employed by the Nobles and Royals in Arclid, break them apart and purify the dirty sugar, quite the sight! After that, it can either be melted and turned into sweets like comfits or boiled sweets, or be made into a paste, moulded, and finally dried.”

  Everyone stared at her after the little speech. Nessa’s stomach sank. The gaiety of the night was making them both reckless.

  Elise, how would you know, and have seen, all that unless you had been close to a confectioner? Which you just explained was only for Nobles and Royals. I knew it was a bad idea to make friends. Oxen-shit!

  Carefree as a child, Elise laughed. “Oh, look at your confused faces. I lived in Highmere, remember? Sugar and scandals were the focus for all.”

  The confused tension broke.

  “Ah. This explains it,” Albert said to Nessa, who was still anxious.

  Nessa waited until Eleonora started enthusing about the carousel before she tried her ballerina. She couldn’t stand the idea of them all watching and looking for her reaction as she ate.

  As the sugar figurine hit her tongue, she heard Eleonora say to Anja, “I sat on one of those painted horses backwards once. No one told me until I got off. Might have had a drop too much wine that night, yes?”

  “Yes,” Anja muttered.

  Nessa sucked on the tongue-tingling sugar, wishing she could have more of it. Memories rushed in, of being a child with an unquenchable hunger after a day of schooling and an evening of farm work and chores. Of wanting sweet things but never being able to have more than a dollop of honey. Or a handful of berries in sugar pumpkin juice. Her parents’ sad faces as they explained that they couldn’t afford more. And only a walk away, at Silver Hollow Castle, that prince of theirs could have his fill, even of something as exotic as sugar. Without
having worked a single minute. Suddenly, the sugar tasted less sweet.

  Nessa was pulled out of her reverie by Elise taking her hand and saying, “Cherished, shall we go on the carousel? Oh, and Anja, are you coming along?”

  It took Nessa a moment to remember what they were talking about, so Anja beat her to replying. “No, thank you. It makes me dizzy. I’d like to return home and finish reading my book.”

  Elise reached for her. “Oh no, you should stay and—”

  Anja held up her hands, smiling at Elise. “None of that. No guilt or pity. The spectacle of the faire is not for me. I brought you here and you found proper, enthusiastic guides. They’ll show you the sights. I’d be happier at home, reading.”

  Elise seemed to hesitate, then she stepped forward and kissed Anja on the cheek. “As you wish.”

  Nessa gave her a one-armed hug. “Travel safely and enjoy your book. We’ll see you later.”

  Anja nodded, curtly as always. Nessa wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she thought Anja looked embarrassed but pleased with the signs of affection from her boarders.

  “Farewell, Mr and Mrs Lindberg and young…” She hesitated while looking at Sonja. “…young lady. Have a lovely night and make sure Nessa and Elise make it home safely, please.”

  She left with her usual confident strides. Nessa noticed a pang of concern in the pit of her stomach. Part of her safety net was leaving.

  Albert clapped his hands. “Right, ladies. To the carousel.”

  Nessa blinked away the daze of her quickly downed wine and the buzz of sugar racing through her veins. “Wait! It… doesn’t spin very fast, does it? Or cost a lot of coin?”

  They all looked at her for a moment. Then Eleonora put her arm around her shoulders and said, “You really must learn to fret less, Nessa. The carousel is slow and cheap. Compose yourself and come along, yes?”

  A while later, they stepped off the carousel, its discordant but cheerful music ringing in their ears. Sonja rushed off towards a set of clockwork toys in a scarlet and gold tent. Albert went after her, leaving the three women to walk in peace.

  Eleonora smiled. “Fun, yes?”

  “Oh, rather!” Elise exclaimed.

  “I wish we could ride it again tomorrow. Although maybe we shan’t see you again after tonight,” Eleonora said, looking as if someone had stolen all her birthdays.

  Elise glanced over at Nessa, who sighed but nodded. The Lindbergs weren’t completely intolerable, especially not when you weren’t in close quarters with them on a ship.

  Having received the go-ahead, Elise squeezed Eleonora’s shoulder and said, “Shall we plan to meet up again?”

  “Certainly,” said Albert, returning with Sonja curled up in his arms.

  The toys must not have been able to counteract the fatigue of the late hour and all the excitement, because Sonja was now leaning her head against her father’s shoulder, blinking sleepily. Albert was kissing her hair and hugging her tight to his chest.

  Eleonora took Nessa’s hand. “If we do not see you before, we simply must meet up at the Joiners Square Fest. It is held here at the faire in… when is it, Albert?”

  “Seven weeks, my sugar rabbit. One night only. Like a winter ball, yes? But on ice! No expenses spared, you Arclidians won’t have seen anything so fine. We arrive on the 4.25 train and sleep at the lax… lex… luxurious Skarhult City Hotel afterwards.”

  “You mean there is something even more festive than the frost faire?” Elise asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

  While looking at Elise, Eleonora squeezed Nessa’s hand so hard it pinched.

  “Yes! Joiners Square arrange a splendid event to show their gratitude for all the support and loyalty. Right, Albert?” He nodded, and Eleonora carried on. “It’s most excellent. We can spend the whole evening together! Then perhaps you can come with us back to—”

  Nessa extricated her mangled hand. “Sounds lovely. We’ll think about it. Until then, why don’t you give Elise your address and we’ll send you letters and postcards, keeping in touch that way.”

  “What a splendid idea!” Eleonora said. “Albert, give them one of your cards.”

  Albert carefully adjusted the now-sleeping Sonja, apologising to her under his breath as he did so. He reached into his inner coat pocket and produced a white card with sloping gold script. Elise held it up so she and Nessa could read it.

  Albert Lindberg

  Head Clerk, Charlottenburg Division

  58 Krasny Street

  Charlottenburg

  “Thank you,” Elise said. “I shall write as soon as I can. Thank you for a wonderful night.” Then she kissed Eleonora and Albert on the cheek. While she leaned in to kiss Sonja's curls, Nessa gave Albert and Eleonora quick hugs.

  Albert nodded at them. “Yes, now is an acceptable time for you to leave. Don’t take lifts from strange men, don’t walk on the cable car tracks, don’t stay out in the cold all night. And don’t become out-of-place.”

  Nessa was about to correct the last statement to “don’t get lost” and then point out that they could actually manage. Luckily, Elise pulled her away just in time.

  “Quite the role reversal. Me keeping you from losing your temper,” Elise whispered with a giggle.

  Nessa just rolled her eyes as they sauntered away from the lights and the noise.

  Overbearing, pretentious man, she thought. But very sweet to his family.

  She shook away the ache of missing her parents. And Layden, who, as well as being a wonderful friend, was also a considerate father and husband.

  Nessa and Elise walked on, hand in hand, towards the cable car. It was freezing away from the fires and crowds, but the beauty of the now-cloudless night made the cold insignificant. Nessa breathed in the last whiffs of booze, roasted nuts, and sugar.

  When they arrived at the lit-up cable car stop and stood there waiting, Nessa had time to really observe Elise. She nearly drowned in those deep-set, golden eyes. There was a glow to them tonight that she hadn’t seen for so long. Was it ever since before the Queen waltzed back into her life in Nightport? She noted a carefree swagger in Elise’s movements when she bent to re-tie her boot laces. How had she missed that this had all been gone? How had she missed that some of Elise’s fire had flickered out and been replaced with… what… worry? Detachment? Sadness? Whatever it had been, it seemed to have lifted. Nessa could only pray to the gods that it was a permanent change.

  It gave her pause. Had her own constant worry been eating at Elise the way it always ate at her? Or was there something else? Was it the threat of the Queen?

  Biting her lip, Nessa looked up at the winter stars. They twinkled, perhaps happy to be free from the clouds. Nessa wished she could be like them.

  Chapter 16

  Purpose and Belonging

  A few weeks passed, bringing evenings of walks and occasional visits to the frost faire, when they weren’t staying in to read and play card games in front of the fire.

  Elise felt as if the days flew by. Nessa had thrown herself into learning her craft, while she and Anja found a good system for their work. Anja would dictate to Elise in the morning and then do research in the afternoon.

  That was the only time that didn’t hurry by for Elise. She rattled around the house, looking for things to do. The first week she wrote in her notebook, usually addressing her writing to her father. Jotting down what she’d seen in Skarhult during their evening walks and writing about her constant dreams. Or nightmares, rather. After a week of penning the nightmare scenarios and realising that they all had one common denominator, the Queen hunting her and managing to catch her, she developed a distaste for writing in the notebook.

  After that, she practised her new skills of dusting, tidying, and washing clothes. Anything to keep busy and be of use while Nessa and Anja were both busy working. But there was only so much cleaning and cuddling of the cat she could stand. Even her hair seemed to be growing listless.

  One afternoon, she
was dusting off the spice jars filled with the oils she and Nessa had made before she got her apprenticeship. They were acceptable in quality but not as potent as the ones Nessa’s mother had made.

  I bet it was because the herbs were cheap and old. All right for food but not for scented oils. And are these spice jars fit for purpose?

  Elise stared at the bottles and tapped her fingers against her lips.

  I know my way around Skarhult enough to go searching for materials now. And now we have income to spend.

  She marched up to Anja's room, her eagerness dictating her speed.

  Knocking on the door, she called out, “Anja? I am going to take the cable car into town to get some ingredients and bottles for scented oils. Would you like anything from Skarhult?”

  “What? Hm. No, thank you. Take a key,” Anja replied distractedly.

  “Will do. See you shortly,” Elise replied and hurried back downstairs.

  Sitting in the chilly cable car, she pondered scents. What materials could she get? What would smell nice on the soft skin of Nessa’s beautiful neck? What might Nessa like to smell on Elise? Was there a scent she could convince Anja to try? It was only when she was getting off at her stop that she realised she had not considered her own wishes and tastes.

  Rose. I long for the smell of roses.

  She missed a step. The smell of roses was as connected to the court of Highmere as the Queen’s cursed lavender perfume was. Why had she thought of roses? Elise growled. That horrible woman refused to fade into memory. Like an unresolved question, Queen Marianna was always in the back of Elise’s mind.

  Like a wound that refuses to scab over and bleeds every time it is touched.

  Discomfort spread through her faster than the cold of the winter air. She tried to ignore it, busying herself with what she would buy and how much she was willing to spend.