Chapter 12
—Kienna—
Even after Master Calder’s blatant irreverence, Kienna forced bravery to bear the woodcarver again.
Ruva escorted her back to the alleyways, all the way to the back corner of the city.
Calder didn’t arrive at his normal late hour.
Kienna spent the entire morning idly sweeping the floor while waiting for him to show.
With a project due, he’d have to eventually.
By high noon, she panicked. He was old, after all. Time had probably already taken him, and she wouldn’t even know where to go because she knew next to nothing about him or where he lived.
Maybe the man at the sawmill would know.
I don’t like this, Ru.
I can smell him. I think—
A tumbling crash jolted her from her mind and away from the fact that Ruva didn’t even bother telling her the woodcarver was already there. Kienna peered at Calder’s door.
I shouldn’t go in, right?
The last time you did, he threw things at you.
Ah... Kienna hesitated. He was still old and could have fallen. Another crash sounded, and Kienna bolted to the door. She pushed in, her eyes falling on the drunken old man stumbling around and slamming carvings to the ground.
“Get out!” he screamed. There was a wildness to him that told her she should have listened, but she rolled her eyes instead and approached him to help subdue his body.
For a man well past his season, he was strong, fighting hard to get her off him. Kienna never imagined she’d have to pin an old man to the floor, but apparently, Master Calder felt it was necessary as he continued to thrash and push at the items on the table.
When she got him on the floor, she grunted. “Why don’t we start with why you’re a victim of the bottle yet again and destroying the same work you won’t let me touch?”
“All my work… Let me go, dammit!” He slammed his fist into Kienna’s knee. She buckled and lost grip on him. He slid out from under her, but the effort drained him as he panted on the floor, a sickly green tinting his skin.
“Hold it together, Ashfell!” Kienna demanded, slapping the green right out of his face.
His eyes widened, mouth parting in stunned silence, but the color subsided, and his head looked steadier on his shoulders. “Get back to work.”
“You have a customer coming tonight,” Kienna said, crossing her arms as she stood. “Is that what you were destroying?”
Calder pulled himself from the ground as well and toed the wood scattered across his office.
His somber workshop mirrored who he had become, splintered and covered in dust. Shelves were lined with carvings and outlines of numerous things, each one more beautiful than the other.
Some were wild animals while others were mystical, like dragons and horses with wings.
Kienna gripped the dragon, each intricate line finely carved to perfection.
The trinket held a strange warmth, pulsing in her hand like a heartbeat was carved into the wood. Calder snatched it from her hands.
“Do not,” he sneered, eyes pointed, mouth curled with a snarl, “ever touch this again.”
“Do dragons exist?” Kienna asked, the warmth of the carving singeing into her fingertips. Dragons were always creatures of fairy tales, but so were the Elvish once upon a time. Even the thought invigorated her.
“Not in this realm,” he said, mocking her. “Ignorant girl.”
“Did you carve that? It doesn’t look like your other work.”
Calder pushed at her again. “Quit asking questions and go sweep. My customer will be here this evening to retrieve their table.”
Kienna glanced around. “I don’t see a table.” Memories of the table she built for Maren flashed through her head. She’d taken days to build it for them. At this rate, the woodcarver had hours left.
“Exactly. Now, let me get back to work.” He motioned for her to move.
Kienna pushed against his body, digging her feet into the ground. This only made it easier for him to slide her. “I know you’re good, but you’re not building a table in a few hours.”
“Not if you keep bothering me.” He reeked of rum, and Kienna had to hold her breath.
“I can help you.”
“No, thank you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like his confidence would carry him to the finish line.
“Have you ever failed on a project before?”
Master Calder stopped pushing. “No.”
“Come on, Ash,” she teased.
His eyes widened beneath his furrowed brow. “Don’t call me that. It’s disrespectful.”
“Good!” Kienna folded her arms. “Then it fits. You’ve taught me nothing, and it’s about fucking time you let me be a woodcarver and not some shopkeeper.”
Calder grunted deep in his chest. He shuffled toward the shattered pieces of wood, picked one up, turned it in his hand, and sighed. “Fine. But you follow my directions. No flair. And absolutely no talking.”
“Deal.” Kienna brushed the table surface clear. “But no more rum.”
The woodcarver paused, his gaze hesitating on the bottle sitting near his window. “You’re in no position to make demands. You asked to help me.”
Kienna put her hand on her hip. “Do you want to do shitty work? Or do you want to get this done?”
“Take it then,” he growled. “For tonight only.”
Nice work, Little Flame.
I’m not going to break him that quickly, but we can’t give up.
I don’t like how he speaks to you.
Kienna shuddered. I’ve heard worse.
Ruva’s growl hummed in Kienna’s mind. I can’t wait to bite off the king’s hands, too.
Kienna couldn’t hide her smile as she swiped the rum and tossed it out of the window.
It shattered in the alleyway. She’d have to pour a bucket of water out there later to clean it, but there was no time to be conscientious.
She took the win before he changed his mind.
Ash sighed as he pulled broken planks from the ground, checking the window from time to time.
They worked through the afternoon and into the early evening, the sun a golden blur outside, warping the glass window. Though Calder never said a word, he didn’t stop Kienna’s hand once. “Tell me about that magic you used the other day. Are you one of those Elvish?” he asked halfway through.
Kienna didn’t look up from assembling the pieces. “I thought you didn’t want me to talk.”
“I don’t,” he growled and sanded away at the planks. After a beat, he asked, “What about that massive wolf in the alley? She thinks she hides well, but I can see her shadow as she walks.”
Head shaking, Kienna laughed. “Do you want me to talk or not? I’m trying to avoid you throwing a knife at my head.”
“Oh, never mind, then.”
Kienna fastened the final joint. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Why were you destroying things?”
“Not worth talking about.”
The woodcarver stared blankly into the corner at the carvings sitting in a pile. And the dragon. Tears stained his dirty cheek, grime that no doubt had been there for weeks. His hands trembled. By now, he’d be missing a drink, and whatever swirled his mind would beg him for one.
After a painfully long silence, the woodcarver put his chisel down. “Today is the day my children died. Twenty-five years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Kienna stopped working and perched up. “I can’t imagine—”
“Everything was fine until it wasn’t. My son, you see, died of a disease of his mind, and then the Great War started.
Soldiers marched in one day, and… Well, they’re both gone.
” As Calder spoke, his eyes remained glued to the corner.
He never looked up to meet Kienna’s eyes, to see her brows droop low as she consumed his sadness.
She spent so much time running away from King Vaerin that she never once bothered to understand that so many others were affected by him as well.
“My little girl…she got taken in the crossfire of battle. She wasn’t even supposed to be there—”
The woodcarver heaved, burying his face in his hands. Kienna sanded the table, taking over his duties. She may have rushed it. It didn’t matter. Calder took himself out of commission the moment he let the tears fall. With no rum to bury his pain, she knew his emotions would no longer be dammed.
When the table was fully sanded, she took the smaller knife she used on her bird and dug into the wood to create a finely shaped flower in the center of a sun.
She carved one in every corner of the wood and chiseled away until a knock came at the door.
She forced herself to stop, dusting her hands on her navy tunic, specks of wood shavings clinging to the wool fabric.
Calder’s head jerked toward the knock as he stood, wiping his face. “I’ll give her a damn refund.”
“I think she’s going to want this one, Master Calder.”
The woodcarver studied the table for the first time. He traced his fingers over the intricate carvings. He didn’t have anything to say about it but nudged his head toward the door. “Go get the customers. You’re slacking on your duties.”
Kienna hadn’t been wrong—the woman wanted the table. Though it remained unstained, she said she’d wait another week for it to be finished. Then she paid Calder a sizable sum without blinking. The woodcarver never stood, but his eyes remained fixed on the carved sun and flower.
“Come on, Ash,” Kienna prodded gently. As she placed her hand on his trembling arm, his gray-brown eyes fell on her. “Moira—that’s my friend—she’s trying a new meal tonight, and I’d like to share it with you.”
He ripped his hand from her touch, but the gruffness in his voice dissipated. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Kienna pulled him again. “Oh, I’m not asking. Let’s go.”
She helped him stand. Though he pushed back a little as they headed toward the other edge of the city, he became more at ease after Ruva fell in lockstep near Kienna.
I would still like to eat his hands, she said.
Kienna laughed internally. I don’t think he’s going to treat me like that ever again.
He’s a drunk.
What do you know of drunks, Ru?
Same as you, Little Flame.
We had a soldier in River Storm who reeked of alcohol, too. His name was Dren.