Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Nessa made her voice soft. “You’re freezing. Get back under the covers. I’ll bring you a wet cloth to clean yourself up, then you should get into my clothes and come down for tea.”

  Nessa didn’t wait for agreement, knowing that Elise needed space. She fetched two cloths from the drawer and headed down and out. One cloth she soaked out by the pump and quickly washed herself with, quite used to the morning cold and being half-dressed outside. The other she soaked and rung out to take in for Elisandrine.

  When she was up the ladder, she realised the flaw in her plan. She now needed to get fully undressed to put her clothes on. Meanwhile, Elisandrine needed to be naked to wash up and put on her clothes.

  They blinked at each other for a moment.

  Slowly and reluctantly, Elisandrine spoke. “Well, I presume we shall see each other undressed if we travel and live together for a while. We might as well just turn our backs to each other and get the first time over with now.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Nessa said, with greater conviction than she felt. This was ridiculous. It was only showing a little skin. She was used to skinny-dipping in the canal with the other villagers all the time. Not to mention going to the public bath in town. She wasn’t shy about her body. Why did getting changed in close proximity to someone matter so much to her right now? Why were her palms getting sweaty?

  Control yourself, woman. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.

  They turned their backs and got on with what they had to do. Nessa only had to turn once, to pick up the socks that she had managed to put out of reach on the dresser. She caught a glimpse of Elisandrine’s sandy brown shoulder blade and a thin arm. Nessa let her eyes linger longer than she should, then snapped her head back and closed her eyes for good measure. Until she realised that she needed them open to put her socks on.

  You idiot.

  She hurried up, barely getting her clothes on properly. Soon she was dressed and on her way down to have some tea and porridge. “Take your time, milady. I’ll be downstairs.”

  Elisandrine just gave a hesitant hum as a reply.

  Let’s hope the whole trip isn’t this uncomfortable, Nessa thought as she trooped down the ladder.

  * * *

  Two hours later Nessa and Elisandrine were preparing to leave. Their bellies were filled with leaf tea and porridge, and each had a satchel slung over her shoulder.

  Elisandrine was outside, trying on Nessa’s spare boots. Leaving Nessa alone inside, faced with two teary-eyed parents. There were no words left to say. She had promised them letters when she could and visits back to Ground Hollow once or twice a month. She had told them she loved them and that she would be careful. What else could she do?

  Wordlessly, she pulled them both towards her for another hug. It was their third this morning, and it felt just as desperate and heart-breaking as the others had.

  Elisandrine walked in wearing the worn, old boots. “They do not give my toes much wiggle room, but they fit.”

  Nessa sniffed. “Good. Glad to hear it.”

  “Thank you for lending them, and your clothes, to me. And thank you, Mr and Mrs Clay, for your hospitality and breakfast.”

  “Of course, milady,” her father replied, bowing deeply to their guest.

  Nessa adjusted her satchel. “Are you ready? We should get going.”

  Elise stood to the side. “Yes, lead the way.”

  Out of nowhere, her mother thrust a sugar pumpkin into Nessa’s hand. “For the road.”

  “Mother, I’ve packed food and drink for the walk.”

  “Still, you can’t have too much sustenance.”

  Her mother’s voice allowed no arguments, so Nessa accepted the sugar pumpkin. She could barely hold it in one hand. They would have to eat it right away so she didn’t have to carry it around for long.

  “Thank you. Right, we better go before we all start crying again. I’ll be back to see you both soon.”

  Her father grabbed her arm. “Remember to be careful. Watch out for the royal guards, and if they find you —”

  “I shall simply agree to go with them, and Nessa will be free to travel on,” Elisandrine interrupted. “They will not bother with her, you have my word.”

  Nessa could see the worry in her father’s eyes as he gave a reluctant nod.

  “Give my love to Layden and his family if you run into them. Farewell for now,” Nessa said and headed for the path leading out to the big road.

  She heard Elisandrine’s steps behind her and picked up the pace. She wanted to leave before she fell for her parents’ silent pleas to stay. She had stayed too many years already. It was time to start her own life.

  She heard her parents close the front door behind them and wasn’t sure if she was relieved or scared.

  Both, she thought as her heart drummed against her chest. You’re both.

  Chapter 9

  Travelling

  Elisandrine walked along without watching her step. She was too busy wondering how to break the tense mood. And the grating silence. It clearly wasn’t the time for a long heart-to-heart. Nessa needed time to digest leaving her family and her home, a much bigger ordeal than it had been for her when she was shipped off to court as a teenager.

  Then Elise saw the sugar pumpkin in Nessa’s hand.

  “How exactly are we going to eat that thing? I do not recall ever having had one. Well, other than as a sauce poured over cakes.”

  Nessa looked back at her and then down at the sugar pumpkin. “I have a knife in my pocket. We cut slices and eat it like that. It’s sweet and a little mealy. Very filling. Healthy, too. At least that’s what Layden tells me. I’d like us to eat it soon so I don’t have to carry it.”

  “We can try it anytime you like. I am quite curious. Besides, in all honesty, I did not have that much of my porridge this morning. I am afraid my spoiled Noble breakfasts were a little sweeter and less hearty.”

  A slow tug of the corners of Nessa’s mouth soon bloomed into that wide smile of hers. Elise was relieved to see it again.

  “All right then,” Nessa said. She pulled the knife from her pocket, unfolded it, and cut into the fruit.

  The air filled with a sweet, pleasant scent that Elise instantly recognised. “That fruit… smells like you?”

  Nessa’s cheeks pinked slightly. “Uh. You noticed that?”

  “Yes. I have a keen sense of smell and I enjoy analysing scents,” Elise admitted.

  “I see. Well, my mother makes an oil from the juice of sugar pumpkins and pressed dammon nuts. It’s good to keep your hands and lips from becoming chapped when you are out in the cold all day. The pleasant smell is a welcome side effect.”

  “It is simply marvellous. That smell was all over your bed, and all over me, this morning. To be honest, I was wondering if you just woke up smelling like that every day. I was envying you something rotten! I am glad to find that it is something that comes from a bottle,” Elisandrine said.

  Nessa handed her a thin slice of the fruit. “Well, jar to be exact. I have a glass jar of the oil in my satchel.”

  “Careful, I might end up stealing it from you.” Elise smirked before bunching up her sliver of sugar pumpkin and popping it into her mouth. The sweet, soft fruit had as nice a taste as it did smell, and she moaned appreciatively.

  Swallowing her own mouthful, Nessa chuckled. “You know what? I’m willing to bet you want me to keep the oil so that I continue to smell nice. No one likes a travelling companion who smells like a farm. I’m sure you’ll ask to borrow some as soon as we get to Nightport, though.”

  “Correct on all counts, Nessa Clay.”

  Nessa grinned and handed her another piece of the fruit, this time a whole wedge. Their fingers brushed, spreading oily, warm sugar pumpkin juice over both their fingertips. At the languid touch, Nessa sucked in a quick breath, swiftly looking down at the ground. Her fingers stayed in place, though, seeming braver than she was. It set off an intense spark of desire in Elise.

  Sh
e is so sweet and innocent under that capable, strong exterior. Such a heady and tempting mixture of traits.

  Elise was just about to brush over Nessa’s slightly calloused fingertips again, the skin there always so sensitive that it made any touch intimate, but Nessa smiled shyly and drew her focus back to eating her own wedge of fruit, so Elise decided against the flirtation. Nessa had been through an ordeal when they left her home; now was not the time to try for some bedplay.

  Elise concentrated on enjoying the walk and the fruit.

  It was so comfortable being around Nessa. She was torn between wanting to keep this easy friendship and finding out if the friendship could grow if an amorous element was added. There was no doubt that Elise was physically attracted to this woman. There were those stunning curves that she stared at last night. And that warm skin, with such a healthy glow, that she had woken up to this morning.

  She watched Nessa out of the corner of her eye now, trying to pinpoint what else it was that attracted her. Soft, shiny hair in that braid which frequently allowed a strand or two to escape and caress Nessa’s cheeks. She moved slowly but determinedly, an air of strength and calm about her that called to Elise. And that beautiful, broad smile… it did things to Elisandrine that made her feel like a young maiden in the first throes of infatuation. Not that she wasn’t young anymore, she was only twenty-three. But she hadn’t felt this pull to someone for years.

  Still, she knew her thoughts turned to the sexual far too easily and that had ruined many a friendship. She wanted this one to last. It felt incredibly important somehow.

  Nessa interrupted her train of thought. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions, milady?”

  “Only if you keep calling me ‘milady’ instead of my name.”

  Nessa looked down at her feet. “Ah, right. My apologies. I wanted to ask about the Royals. We’ve seen a lot of Prince Macray since his castle is on the outskirts of Ground Hollow. But we haven’t encountered his sister, the Queen. As I now have a former lady at court with me, can I ask about her?”

  Elise tried to catch Nessa’s eye, but the other woman kept looking at her feet as she walked. “Nessa, there is no need to be so cautious. I will not have you beheaded for treason. Ask away.”

  “It’s not treason or anti-monarchy in any way. I’m just afraid the question might show my ignorance. But here goes. I’ve seen drawings of the Queen and staggered at her handsome dresses and jewels. Most all, though… I love the strange make-up she wears. It’s like a mask, isn’t it? The old king had it, too. Why does she wear that? And why doesn’t the Prince?”

  Elise loosened her ponytail. She wasn’t used to having her hair up. “The Queen wears the royal make-up mainly because it is tradition. The blue, grey, and white paint in the shape of a mask over her eyes is a sign of her status, like the crown she wears. It also shows that the monarch is more than an individual, she or he is an institution. One that has always had blue, grey, and white on her, or his, face.”

  Nessa brushed a few strands of escaped hair behind her ear. “I see. Thank you. Sorry if that was a dumb question.”

  “No, not at all! I wager a lot of people do not know. The royal make-up goes back eleven generations, I believe. Macray could paint his face, too, but I suspect he worries that it would stains others’ cheeks during a kiss. Not to mention during more intimate things.” She gave Nessa a meaningful look.

  “I see. I wish he would wear the royal make-up, too. It looks majestic and…” Nessa hesitated. “…and it demands respect.”

  “Yes, and it would improve his chinless face. However, the Queen says it gets horribly hot and itchy as the day wears on. So maybe he simply does not like it. Or maybe he chooses to not wear it because every royalty-hating revolution we have had has used the make-up as a symbol for the dated and ridiculous nature of our monarchy. Anyway, did you have other questions?”

  Nessa put her hands in her pockets. “Are you certain I’m not bothering you?”

  Elise touched Nessa’s elbow, making the other woman jump at what was meant to be a reassuring touch.

  “Sorry. Yes, I am utterly certain, Nessa. It is refreshing to speak to someone who does not know all of this by heart. And anyway, I prefer chatter to silence. So, just ask!”

  Nessa was quiet for a moment as the pair went over a short rise in the path. “The other Noble children you were taught with seem a lot like Prince Macray to me; selfish and arrogant. Pardon me if this is rude, but… why aren’t you like that?”

  “No, that is not rude. It is a nice compliment. Hmm...” Elise looked down at her feet on the gravel path. “I assume it started with my grandmother. She was an incredibly kind woman. She saw me playing with a friend one day. We were laughing at a common boy who walked past us with holes in his clothes. She sent my friend home and took me into the house. She sat me down and described to me what life was like for a commoner and how cruel it was of me to mock him for not having the luck I had been born with.”

  Elisandrine kept watching her feet; it was easier to talk about this if she didn’t have to face Nessa.

  “Grandmother started talking to me about the way Nobles were and especially about our cruelty. She hated that we were indoctrinated with it and said that was not how she raised my father and not how she hoped he was raising me. The truth was that, while I adored my father, I saw very little of him. But yes, he always said he wanted me to be kinder.”

  “Then I owe thanks to your grandmother and father for you being more open and nice than Nobles have a reputation for?”

  “Well yes. Them and, of course, these,” Elise said, pointing towards her eyes.

  Nessa frowned. “Your eyes? What do they have to do with anything?”

  Elise took a deep breath. Explaining this always made Nobles sound horrible.

  “Have you never thought about eye colour and our society? No? Well, your eyes are a light grey, yes?”

  “Yes, exactly like my mother’s,” Nessa said proudly.

  Elise nodded, watching Nessa from the corner of her eye. “And your father and Layden both had light hazel eyes I noticed.”

  “Yes, I suppose they do,” Nessa agreed after a while.

  “Prince Macray and the rest of the Royal family have dark blue eyes. All of my family have dark brown eyes. In fact, all Nobles have dark eyes of some colour. I, however, have light brown eyes. So light they are almost yellow.”

  She was about to add that the Noble children had called them yellow like “urine or stinky pus”. She stopped herself. After all these years, it still hurt too much.

  Nessa was frowning at her. “Wait. So your eyes are light and Nobles usually have darker eyes, how has that made you different as a person? Why has that made you nicer than the others?”

  Elise hoped Nessa would connect the dots without her having to explain it, but her friendly features stayed in a confused frown.

  “Nobles are meant to have dark eyes. If you have light eyes, people start to whisper that you are not altogether Noble. That you have commoner blood somewhere, and I am ashamed to say that they see that as a horrible flaw. It does not help that we came from faraway Silverton instead of Highmere, nor that my skin is a little lighter than that of my parents.” Elise cleared her throat. “That is merely a trick of the blood, by the way. I look like my father otherwise, so I know I am his child. That did not matter to the other Nobles, though. I was bullied throughout my childhood, and even adults looked at me with an upturned nose. Being judged makes you less likely to judge, I suppose.”

  Elisandrine stopped walking, pretending to gaze at a tree that was shedding its leaves. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nessa stop, too. She felt compelled to carry on speaking.

  “My mother was thrilled that my father’s work as a royal architect made us move to Highmere, where most of the Nobles live, and that this, in turn, made the Queen spot me and take me in as a lady of court. Without that, my mother claimed it would be nigh impossible to wed off a light-eyed daughter. Luckily, th
e Queen found my eye colour a funny, exotic quirk. Otherwise, who knows where I would have ended up.”

  Nessa reached out and placed her hand on Elise's shoulder. The touch was tentative and feather light. Elise barely felt it through the wool coat she had borrowed.

  “For what it’s worth, I neither see your eyes as a ‘funny quirk’ nor something to bully you for. To me, they seem a very fetching shade of gold. In fact, they look almost the colour of the sunshine. Warm and striking. Who wouldn’t be drawn to eyes like those?”

  Elise took the hand resting so lightly on her shoulder. “I bet you say that to all the ladies,” she said with a smirk.

  Nessa laughed shyly and put her hand back down by her side. “Actually, no. I am far too shy to flirt with anyone. Of any gender. Or even without a gender.”

  Elise groaned at the ease of Nessa’s statement. “I am so jealous of you commoners for your open-mindedness. When a Noble does not feel like either gender, or feels like both, their parents force them to choose one. Usually one that fits their body best. All in the name of procreating and extending the Noble bloodlines. Everything is about keeping Noble blood pure in our world. Yours seems so much more natural and full.”

  Nessa shrugged as she began walking again. “I guess that is one way of seeing it. I see it as we can’t afford to bother with what gender or sexual preferences someone has. It’s the same with eye colour, I suppose. We are too busy surviving. Keeping our farms filled with produce or animals. Finding work in the new factories in the cities. Or being long-suffering servants to you Nobles.” She smiled apologetically at Elise. “We fight, too, but then it’s usually over land, coin, or love. Our lives are hard enough without trying to bother about things that people say they are or what they do in the bedroom. Or their colouring.”

  Elise let that sink in before hurrying up to walk next to Nessa, and saying, “I am sure I will change my mind if I end up starving on the streets. But right now, I can promise you that I would rather be fighting for survival while being free to be who I am and who I want to be with than be locked in an archaic world with a silver spoon in my mouth.”