Chapter 9
—Kienna—
“You. Girl.” Calder Ashfell growled as he spoke, smelling of rum and sweat.
Kienna looked up from another carving she had started and feared he would toss it in the corner again.
She was prepared to take the criticism. All she had to do was stuff the bird incident down and pretend it didn’t affect her.
It helped to talk to the men from the shipyard, but the woodcarver’s words still bit.
“You’re useless here,” he continued. “I need you to run to the sawmill and put in an order for long planks. Oak or pine. Do you understand, girl? No cedar. And then to the Brass Knot for beeswax and tree resin. I will need a sizable amount. Norrin will know how much.”
“Are you building ships?” Kienna asked, recalling Fenlo and his friends commenting about him taking on ship work. “I thought you were only a carver.”
“I was a shipwright long before you were anything. Shut up and do as you’re told.” Master Calder set a large bag of coins on the table and disappeared. Kienna slumped her shoulders and took the coins.
She wove closely to the tree line on the outskirts of Dove Port near the Goldmere River to the sawmill.
The older gentleman she met at The Elarent House greeted her when she approached.
It made sense why he could speak to the Ashfell character.
He’d apparently been working in tree logging his whole life.
“What can I do you for, miss…Kianna, right?”
“Kienna,” she laughed. She wasn’t sure why it was funny—maybe because it was ordinary. A small, human moment in a world that had never let her have one. Seeing someone so real and unpolished, was a breath of fresh air.
The old man pressed his hand to his chest. “Ah, of course. What can I do you for?”
“The woodcarver, as you all said, is a shipwright as well, and he needs material.”
“That old drunk was here yesterday,” the old man scowled.
Kienna’s heart sank. The woodcarver gave her no reason to be concerned, but she couldn’t help but feel sad for the man.
What had broken him in such a way that caused him to drink so much?
And he was losing track of time. Maybe the drink, maybe something worse.
The old man wasn’t simply angry. He was slipping, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she pitied him or feared what that meant for both of them. “Did he at least order enough?”
The man crossed his arms, his burnished-bronze skin folding into wrinkles. “It’ll get him through one ship. As long as his hand doesn’t slip and he measures properly.”
“Go ahead and add more. Probably double.”
“You know,” the man said as he wrote the order, taking Kienna’s money, “Calder wasn’t always this senile. He used to sing. But, uh…well, the Great War changed a lot of us. Him most of all.”
Wouldn’t his business have thrived after a war? They would need more ships and materials. Kienna bit her cheek. “What did he lose?”
“The rest of his family died in that war. Extremely sad story.”
The revelation was illuminating, but it only made her feel worse.
She didn’t realize when accepting an offer to work with the woodcarver that she’d be taking care of a mind-worn man grieving for twenty-five years in the process.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be too late to tell Tislin she’d rather work elsewhere.
Kienna followed the city maze back toward the center of Dove Port.
Artists were already out, painting against stone walls and perched on scaffolding, chiseling reliefs into the limestone facade.
Harp music floated over the streets, delicate and haunting.
It mixed with the sea breeze and the steady clink-clink-clink of metal tapping stone, like rhythm and memory had gotten lost in the cracks between buildings.
It should’ve brought peace. Should’ve helped.
It didn’t.
All she could hear was Calder’s voice. You’re useless. All she could think about was his shaking hands and how he hadn’t remembered placing the order. That he once sang. That made her want to cry more than anything else.
She slipped into the alley near the Brass Knot and let her back hit the wall. The puddle beneath her soaked straight through her pants and boots, and that was it. The final insult. She didn’t even bother to move.
Ruva waited for her in the alleyway. You okay, Little Flame?
I didn’t think I’d be mourning the woodcarver before he’s even dead.
Ruva panted in her mind with a tiny whimper. You were hoping he’d be the man Maren told you to find.
I don’t think he’s going to help me. She cried into her palms, worried that her quest to leave Maren and Jacob behind wouldn’t pay off. Do you think they’re already dead, Ru?
Connak said no, Ruva replied. Did you stop trusting him?
I’m so tired of worrying. I wish I could see them.
Ruva sat with her, letting her cry while she lay her large head onto Kienna’s lap.
Kienna hugged her, sinking her face into the fur.
She heaved, her body shuddering until all the tears came out.
She hadn’t cried that hard in a long time.
How could she when every moment was spent working to be forged into the unwavering strength everyone told her she must be?
When was there time for recovery while powering through nightmares, pain, and fear? Through betrayal.
She didn’t know what she was doing anymore.
She had killed so many, then ran away from it all to find a man she desperately hoped would fix it for her, only to find Calder instead.
Strength left her body, like she finally stopped forcing it to pump in her veins, and she was a child again, begging for her mother to hold her and stroke her hair.
Maren used to rub her cheeks with her thumbs and sing lullabies and rock back and forth.
Ruva’s head lifted, and she licked Kienna’s face. Kienna scrunched back but let Ruva continue until her tears were gone.
We’re here now, Little Flame. You and me.
Kienna placed her hands around Ruva’s face. Her silver eyes stared back at her, and Kienna’s heart stilled through the comfort.
Your hands are hot.
Kienna pulled them away and examined her palms. The K on her thumb burned.
It was faint, but her hands glowed with a deep orange, like an ember glowing beneath a log as the fire stilled.
Was there still magic in there? She couldn’t sense the electrical buzz that usually pulsed inside her.
It wasn’t a storm that brewed in her now, but a raging heat waiting to be let out.
She couldn’t muster more than the warmth and the glow, but it was enough to dispel the cold.
The charm was supposed to kill the magic—all of it—not tame it. So, what was left inside her now?
Ruva sighed. Let’s get you out of the puddle and back on track.
Kienna stood, her pants dripping as water fell into her boots. She warmed her body again, and the water dried.
This is our secret, Ruva.
You should at least tell Connak.
I don’t want them to take it away. He might think that it’s dangerous, but I don’t think this is Vaerin’s. I think it’s mine.
I don’t know who you think I’d even be able to tell, but I’m with you.
With that out of the way, Kienna composed herself and walked around the corner into the Brass Knot.
Norrin greeted her with a bright smile. Her black hair was cropped close to her ears, and her big, brown eyes lit up when she saw Kienna.
To be a stout woman and shorter than average, she moved with surprising ease.
She was halfway down the ladder, getting paint for a customer, but twisted neatly and called out, “Hya! Welcome in! Here you go, Zem! Verdigris tempera, just like you asked!” A man splattered in rainbow took the paint, paid, and left quickly.
Norrin turned her attention to Kienna. “What can I getcha?”
“Has Calder Ashfell been in recently for tree resin and beeswax?” Kienna asked, searching the shelves filled with various crafting supplies. There was paint everywhere, along with tools for chiseling and carving, brushes, and stains.
Norrin put her hand near her thin lips. “No, I don’t recall Calder stopping by. I’d remember it if he did.”
Relieved, Kienna gave the shopkeeper her order and what they intended to build.
Master Calder was right about one thing: Norrin knew exactly what was needed for the extensive work they’d be doing, and she got Kienna set straight.
While she checked the stock, Kienna looked at the shelves.
She didn’t even know so many colors existed in paint form.
She wanted to see how it would look on a canvas.
“Artists like to stay and paint in the back. You’re welcome to use the paint we have there,” Norrin said as she came through the curtains.
Kienna kept her eye on the deep hues of purple in front of her and shifted slowly to Norrin. “I still have to check on Calder.”
Norrin nodded. “Sure, kid. Why don’t you take some paint with you?”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
Norrin approached and put the paint directly into Kienna’s hands.
She didn’t ask for anything in return. Only smiled.
Kienna couldn’t grapple with that sort of kindness.
She hadn’t experienced it before in this way.
She hesitated, but she truly wanted the deep lavender for a painting she could do of Ruva under the moon.
Are you sure you want to go back to the workshop?
I don’t think Calder has anyone to look after him. He’s broken like me, Ruva, We’ll either sink or build together.
Kienna returned to silence. The door to Master Calder’s private quarters remained shut as always. She placed the bag of remaining coins on a shelf and pressed her ear to the door. Ruva indicated she could smell him, but he was quiet. She knocked once with no answer.
Should I open the door?
He might throw something at you.
Or he could be dead…
The gods would only be so kind.
Ruva!
Ruva huffed and backed out of Kienna’s mind.
Kienna creaked the door open. The old man sat at his workbench with his face buried in his arms. Breathing. Kienna let go of her own breath. She gently nudged him. “Master Calder?”
The old man jolted awake, covered in a pool of his own vomit. “What do you want, girl?” he scolded, wiping his beard.
Kienna handed him his cup of water. “Maybe it’s time to go home. I can walk you if you need—”
“Leave me alone.”
“Master Calder, if something is going on, I’d like to help—”
The woodcarver launched a chunk of wood in Kienna’s direction. She flinched and knocked it out of the way before it could hit her.
“Please. I want to help.”
He threw another item. And then another.
Kienna reacted to each item, her blood boiling.
She just decided to help this fucking man, and he was throwing her kindness back at her like a sodden drunk.
She wanted to throw things, too. Be the child.
To tell him to get off his ass and prepare.
Throw away the alcohol and be the man the town knew he used to be.
Too many things were flying in her direction. He collected a handful of items and thrust them at her. The anger burst. Kienna pushed her hand out and stopped the items midair, electricity sizzling through her branded thumb. “Enough!”
The room fell silent. Kienna’s hand trembled as everything fell to the ground. The heat swirled beneath her skin.
That was not smart, Ruva whimpered.
Master Calder stared at her. He didn’t have any words, and Kienna didn’t know what else she could do to make that public display better.
“Good night.” She turned toward the door.
“Meet me at the shipyard tomorrow,” Master Calder mumbled and shut it behind her.