Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Nessa looked at the window, which must have been at least three floors up. Her gaze moved to the row of large, sculpted stone roses that decorated that part of the castle. If her feet got purchase on them, she could climb along them to the window. She’d always liked climbing, be it trees or walls. She was built for it, strong and nimble.

  She heard Layden give a feeble sneeze. “I think I have had quite enough fresh air. I should be getting back to my warm apothecary and continue mixing my powder. You stay here and shout with the bride-to-be. Just don’t let her get you into trouble. Or break your neck.”

  Nessa looked over at him. “The bride-to-be?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Miss Clueless. That loud woman is Lady Elisandrine Falk. She’s been taken from her position at court to Silver Hollow Castle to marry Prince Macray. Gods, Nessa, didn’t you hear the commotion at the crack of dawn? Most of Ground Hollow was here when the royal carriage dropped her off. Not that she noticed that we were all there. She seemed too busy pouting under her ridiculously wide-brimmed hat. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

  He turned and started to walk back before she had time to answer. Another shout was heard from the castle, distracting her from saying goodbye.

  “Well? Do you think you can manage it? Say, right before the stroke of midnight?”

  Nessa looked at the woman in the window as she considered the unusual request. The breeze was blowing the dark hair in front of her face, almost obscuring what looked like uncommonly pretty features. Not that the lady’s looks mattered, of course. No, it wasn’t that which was keeping her rapt attention. Nessa had never spoken to a Noble before. As far as she knew, Nobles only talked to you if they wanted you to do manual labour for them or sneak into their bed for the night.

  There was something intriguing about this stranger. Including the fact that she was a stranger, something rare in Ground Hollow. Nessa liked her posh, precise, and pleasant way of speaking. Not to mention her brazen way of approaching a stranger without seeming nervous.

  Be honest. It doesn’t hurt that she seems to be absolutely stunning, does it?

  There was a strange tingle running through Nessa. She needed to know more about this Lady Falk.

  Pensively, she scratched the back of her neck. It was absurd to trespass into the castle grounds to then climb a wall and speak with an engaged woman at night. A Noble woman, at that. It was not done. What was worse, it was a huge risk. Which was the number one thing that Nessa tended to avoid. But this was her future princess, who clearly wanted to know about the village that neighboured her new home. That was harmless enough, was it not? Nessa had a duty to obey her future princess.

  Besides, if the lady wasn’t allowed to leave, if she was kept in the castle against her will? Well, that sounded like she needed help. That trumped her own addiction to safety and any sense of propriety.

  Nessa cleared her throat. “O-of course, milady. Or your Highness. Or Majesty. Um. Whatever. I shall return and attempt to c-climb up right before midnight.”

  “Oh, ‘milady’ will do. Splendid. Thank you ever so much! I must go, I think I hear footsteps in the corridors.”

  With a bang, the window was closed and the princess-to-be was gone.

  Nessa scratched the back of her neck again. On a normal day, finding out that Isobel had been terse with her because she felt like a spurned lover would have been the oddest occurrence. But what just happened with the lady in the window pretty much overshadowed it. There were so many questions. It was worrying, but it carried a thrill. As Nessa began the walk back, she knew she wanted more of that.

  Chapter 3

  Meanwhile, in Silver Hollow Castle

  Elisandrine watched the villager with the clear voice and the endearing stutter stride away. Her long, light brown braid bounced against her back in a pleasing way. Elise sighed. She hadn’t heard footsteps like she said, she simply wanted to finish the conversation quickly.

  “That was quite possibly a thoroughly bad idea,” she whispered to herself.

  She’d taken to doing that throughout the day, a sure sign that she needed human interaction. Elisandrine knew she wasn’t very good at being alone and she was starting to feel the tugging need to speak to someone. Someone who wasn’t her reluctant husband-to-be. Too bad the lovely guardswoman wouldn’t return to her room. Or her bed.

  She giggled softly, enjoying the adrenaline that rushed through her at the memory, but her mirth faded quickly.

  Her need to talk to someone, in combination with her need to know more about the village she found herself in, had driven her to shout out the window. That wasn’t very ladylike, of course. But something told her that even though the door was open, any attempt to leave the castle without a chaperone would be stopped.

  Elise ran her fingers through her thick waves of hair, trying to make it lay neatly over her shoulders. She couldn’t see the woman with the braid any longer, so she turned her gaze back to her prison cell of a room. It was a pretty room; she wondered what the woman with the braid would make of it. She and the male villager with her hadn’t been the first Elisandrine had spotted beyond the walls today, but they had been the only ones who looked like they might have time to stop and talk to her. She wondered how hard life in this village was. It must be quite hard to explain the haggard faces and quick marches of the few people she had seen pass throughout the day.

  Since her late teens, she had been at the Queen’s court in Highmere, the capital of Arclid, located in the centre of the midlands. There had been no village there, only the vast city and the lands owned by the Crown surrounding it. The life she had led had probably been worlds away from the ones these villagers had.

  She looked at the book she had abandoned in the reading chair between the shelves. So far, the book hadn’t given her any inspiration for escape. She decided that there probably wasn’t any solution other than to run away. She could think of no scheme or political move to nullify the engagement. Not unless her current circumstances changed. For example, the Queen might want to marry off her brother to a princess from one of the other continents to make an ally. Or maybe Macray would contract a disease that made him unable to marry. She shunned that last thought. No matter how desperate she was not to marry, she shouldn’t wish sickness upon anyone. Seeing her father die from red pox had taught her that much.

  She would have to leave her old world behind and take the risk of going on the run. Possibly the risk of exposure or starvation, too, as she had nowhere to go and no occupation to sustain her. Or she would have to wait and hope that circumstances changed. After all, they were scheduled for a winter wedding. She had about three months until the shroud of winter was over them.

  The problem was that Elisandrine Falk was very bad indeed at waiting and doing nothing. Time ticked on. She groaned, flicked her hair over her shoulders, and went back to her book.

  * * *

  It was about a quarter of an hour before midnight. Elise had spent the rest of the day reading and pacing her room, with the exception for a pair of hours spent in the dining room having supper with Prince Macray.

  It had been a silent and sombre affair with far too many courses, causing a constant wait for a new bowl full of opulent ingredients with unnecessary spices. All to show off.

  I am not going to miss drawn-out and barely edible Noble suppers.

  Having been raised to eat slow with ladylike bites, and the lack of any conversation, had made the meal drag on even more. Elise had no appetite for food or conversation with Macray.

  Back in her chamber, she found herself considering praying to gods, which she didn’t believe in, that she would be spared a lifetime of suppers with him. She let out a long breath. At least midnight was nearing now. Elisandrine paced the floor, hoping that the villager with the braid and the voice as clear as icy spring water was going to show up.

  She couldn’t imagine why she would. Why would anyone take the time and risk of climbing the walls around the castle — and then up the actual castle
walls — only to speak to a woman they didn’t know?

  Oh! Unless the villagers assume that any request coming from Silver Hollow Castle is a royal decree?

  What if the woman took it as a command and then hurt herself while climbing? It would all be Elise’s fault. She pinched her wrist and cursed herself.

  There was a noise outside her window. She hurried over and saw that the line of stone roses that led up the walls between all the windows had something new on it. A woman.

  The light of the full moon gave Elise a good view of the climber. She found herself smiling at the bravery — or possibly foolishness? — that the villager was showing. She settled for bravery. The woman had some sort of hook that she appeared to wedge between the blocks of marble while her other hand held on to the stone roses. Elise assumed her feet were on the roses, too.

  Her stomach churned. How could she have endangered this woman’s life just because she didn’t want to risk being discovered outside by the guards? She wanted to shout to the woman to turn back and get to safety, but she was almost up to Elisandrine's window now, so there seemed little point. Instead, Elise unlatched the window and reached out her hands, waiting for the villager to be in reach. When she was, Elise grabbed on and used her feeble muscles to try to pull the woman in through the window.

  Luckily, the villager seemed to have the strength that Elisandrine lacked and so took on the brunt of the work. With one last pull, the woman was in the room. They stared at each other for a moment, then Elise ended the silence with an emphatic, “ow.”

  Chapter 4

  Late-Night Visitor

  Nessa stared at Lady Falk. “Did you just say ‘ow?’ Did I hurt you when I came in?”

  The lady grimaced. “Well, yes and no. You did. However, you are still doing it as well.”

  “Pardon?”

  The lady spoke in plainer terms. “You are on my foot.”

  Nessa looked down so fast that she nearly twisted her neck. Her brown boot was perched on top of a pretty, heeled, white shoe. She pulled her foot back immediately.

  “I’m so terribly sorry, milady.”

  Lady Falk laughed. “That is quite all right. Bruised toes are a small price to pay for this visit, considering you risked your life for it.”

  Nessa shrugged, convinced her cheeks were reddening. Why did she always have to blush? It was even worse than the stutter. “Don’t worry about that, m-milady. I enjoy climbing and it was a n-nice moonlit night for it.”

  “I am relieved to hear it. Would you mind closing the window? Unlike you, I have no outerwear on.”

  “Of course,” Nessa said. She latched the window before placing her climbing hook in the pocket of her beloved leather coat.

  She caught Lady Falk looking at her. “Oh, but now you will be too warm. You should remove your coat. You can place it on the window there, if you like?”

  “Y-yes, milady.” Nessa placed the coat on the window sill and turned back to her host. “So, milady wished to ask some questions about Ground Hollow? Welcome, by the way; our village is proud to have such a prestigious guest.”

  Lady Falk grimaced again, as if she smelled something sour. “Guest? I will be a resident soon. Perhaps you do not know this, but I am to wed Prince Macray this winter.”

  Nessa gave a little bow. She wasn’t sure if she should say that she already knew that or not, so she avoided it. “Then we will be even more glad to have you as our princess, milady.”

  “Well, that will make one of us.”

  “Pardon?”

  Lady Falk waved the question away. “Oh, nothing. What is your name?”

  “It’s Nessa Clay, milady.”

  “I see. Good evening, Nessa Clay. Pretty name. So much better than the long monstrosity of Lady Elisandrine Falk. Not to be improved by changing ‘lady’ for the longer ‘princess’. That will take some getting used to.”

  The lady pensively looked up at the ceiling. Nessa took the chance to brave a closer look at her. The cascades of wavy black tresses she had spotted earlier framed a well-proportioned face. Lady Falk had deep-set, shining, light brown eyes that Nessa couldn’t stop staring at. They were so light that they were almost yellow.

  Golden, they’re actually the colour of gold. I’ve never seen anything like them.

  Nessa’s gaze wandered to smooth skin which was a little darker than her own, even with her tan from working in the fields. Lady Falk was a tad taller than her, but had a slighter frame. There was kohl around her eyes and a reddish tint to her generous mouth, a colour which surely couldn’t be created by the gods alone.

  She wore the same long, pale lilac dress as earlier. It had an abundance of delicate lace all leading to a waist strapped in by a wide purple belt and an unusally low neckline revealing some of a petite bosom. Nessa’s heart skipped a beat.

  She quickly focused back up to those golden eyes, waiting for the lady to speak. It was only then that she realised that her taking stock of what her the princess-to-be looked like hadn’t gone unnoticed. On those reddish lips was a smile which was far too knowing and amused for Nessa to be comfortable.

  “Do I look as you had expected? Your prince seems to think I am attractive. Even if he is not actually attracted to me.”

  “What?” Nessa blurted out.

  Lady Falk’s smile grew. “Are you shocked that he said that I was attractive or that he is not attracted to me?”

  Nessa swallowed. “Milady, it is not my place to have an opinion on either.”

  Her ladyship looked disappointed. “I see. Well, never mind all that. I need to know more about your village. I already know that it is beautiful but archaic, as all of Arclid’s countryside, from what I have heard. But what else? How big is it? How far is it to the nearest town? I come from the midlands and know little of the lowlands. All I know is that we are several days ride away from Highmere. Surely there is a big town or a city closer to here? A lowland city?”

  Nessa blinked at the barrage of questions. Her uncertainty regarding the reasons behind these queries made her hesitant about how to answer. There seemed to be more to this than the lady getting to know her new home. In the end, Nessa began babbling and hoped that the answers the would-be princess wanted were somewhere to be found in her stream of words.

  “Ground Hollow is a s-small village indeed. To the east you have Little Hollow which, as the name tells you, is a smaller village than ours. To the north, you have large amounts of forest and through it, the road up to the midlands. West is more f-forest and a mass of villages much like Ground Hollow. Or so I’m told. South is towards the city of Nightport and then the sea. Nightport is known as a somewhat rough city but a busy, expanding one, too. It’s the biggest city in the lowlands. As far as I know.”

  “Ah. Yes, I have heard of it. I believe there is a harbour there with ships that go to all the other continents. Do I detect some warmth in your voice when you talk about it? Do you hail from Nightport?”

  Nessa puffed out her chest. Imagine little old her being mistaken for a Nightport native. “No, I’d have a much different accent if I was. I was born and raised here. But I plan to travel to Nightport soon and make it my home.”

  Lady Falk’s eyes widened, and she took a step closer to Nessa. “Really? Are you travelling with someone? Do you have occupation and accommodation waiting in the city?”

  Nessa looked down, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m travelling alone. And no, I’m afraid I have neither. I know it’s foolish to leave for the city when I am so ill-prepared. But, um, I have waited to leave for a long time, so I feel like I have to go soon or I’ll implode. Besides, I have friends who have travelled there and made a good life for themselves, even if they only brought a handful of coins. It can be done.”

  Lady Falk clasped her hands in front of her and beamed. “Well, bring me along as a travelling companion, and I can promise you more than a handful of coins. I have a purse chockfull of golds and silvers to add to the party.”

  Nessa gaped at her.
She didn’t just suggest what I think she did, did she?

  “Milady, I don’t —”

  “Please, call me Elisandrine. Or perhaps even Elise, as my friends do. If we are to travel together, you cannot keep calling me ‘milady.’ Unless you want to, I suppose.”

  Lady Falk, or Elisandrine as Nessa was now trying to think of her, was scouring the room, clearly looking for something.

  Nessa blinked. “I-I… I don’t know what to say. Are you serious?”

  “Deadly serious. I am a good travelling companion. I never complain about long journeys, I am adventurous, I do not mind paying for food and board for us both. Oh, and I sing.”

  Nessa knew she was staring open-mouthed at the woman in front of her, but what else could she do?

  “You… sing?” she croaked.

  Elisandrine appeared to have found what she was looking for. She was crouched down in front of the bed, taking items out of a large chest and placing them on the floor. Nessa saw her place a golden hair clip, two books, a piece of extravagant jewellery, and what looked like an ornate coin purse into a satchel.

  “Yes, I sing, and if you do wish to travel with me, I will gladly sing to entertain you. Best to my knowledge, I do not snore or smell unpleasant. I am willing to learn to cook and clean. Perhaps even mend… well, whatever it is that one mends. Furthermore, I am not at all picky about where we end up. I simply need to be out of here.”

  Nessa didn’t know where to start. “But milady… I… um… Are you packing? I don’t understand. You live in this beautiful castle, and you said yourself that you are to wed the prince this winter.”

  Elisandrine opened a box and took out a wide-brimmed hat with some sort of feathers on top. She pursed her lips as she stared at it, shook her head, and then promptly put in back in the box. “Yes. I also said that he does not want to wed me, and the gods know I do not wish to marry him. The Queen will never let me get out of what she seems to think is an excellent match, so I plan to escape.”