Fruit of the Golden Vine (3 page)

“You’re very kind to say so.” Irena bestowed a placid smile upon Adelina. “Ada, dear, would you offer our guest a small cake?”

Adelina shoved the tray of cakes across the table, putting it within Silvana’s reach. “Here, have a small cake.”

“Ada! Why are you always so recalcitrant?”

From the moment they’d surrendered to Irena’s clutches, the afternoon had been an endless procession of cakes, embroidery and anecdotes about handsome men viewed from her window, and Adelina’s patience had reached its limit. “Because I don’t have jelly for a brain, that’s why.” Adelina bit through one of the jam-laden cakes and into its delectable blob of hidden cream. “Why don’t we talk about something interesting for once?”

Silvana turned a cake in her hands. “Who makes these for you? Some servant?”

“Our cook, Bruna, makes them fresh every morning.” Irena shot Adelina a triumphant look. “Do you enjoy pastries, Silvana?”

“I suppose.” Silvana bit into the cake, leaving a puff of flour on her chin. “It’s very decadent.”

Irena leaned forward, her eyes intent. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is it like, this place that you come from?”

“It’s greener than this. Colder too.” Silvana brushed the flour from her face. “We have snow, sometimes outside of winter, and there are rugged mountains to the northwest that we can see crouched in the distance like crooked blue giants.”

Irena’s eyes became fascinated circles. “Are there wolves?”

“In the timberlands, yes, but not so close to where we live.” Silvana tasted a cup of tea and scrunched her nose. “God above, this is bitter.”

“Oh!” Irena covered her mouth. “You blasphemed.”

“Don’t worry. I do it so often that God doesn’t pay attention anymore.” Silvana winked at Adelina, whose heart underwent yet another small tremor. “You can speak candidly, you know. I can tell you want to know more about my brother.”

“I do.” The confession flew from Irena’s lips like a gasp. “Please. What sort of man is he? Is he tender? Romantic?”

“Romantic?” Silvana gave a lopsided shrug. “Is there such a thing as a romantic man?”

“What do you mean? Of course there is. One of my suitors, whom Father decided against, wrote me the most remarkable love poetry.”

“Yes, but he was only doing it to win you over as his property. True romance lasts a lifetime, Irena.” Silvana frowned at her chair’s armrest, which had been sculpted into the form of a leering, lopsided lion. “This is the ugliest chair I’ve ever seen.”

“Please.” Irena spoke as if in pain. “Be a little clearer about what you mean. Surely you believe in love.”

“Of course I do. Love is the one truth even fools can be certain of.”

“But how can there be love if men cannot be romantic?”

Silvana stroked the rim of her teacup, and she glanced at Adelina. “I’m afraid the answer might shock you. Let’s return to talking about my brother. He’s not a violent man, and he isn’t especially selfish. He enjoys a joke, wine too much and too often, and he’s affectionate toward animals.”

Irena smiled, and the doubt cleared from her eyes. “Oh! That sounds good. And is he a valiant warrior? He has the physique of a champion.”

“He’s strong, but swordplay rewards speed and finesse above strength. I’m far better with a blade than he is.” The frankness of the boast made Adelina blush. “But that’s not to his discredit.”

“How can that be?” If Irena’s eyes had opened any wider, her eyeballs would have dropped onto the lunch tray. “A woman can’t outfight a man. I don’t even know how a woman learns to fight with a sword in the first place.”

Silvana sucked jam from her fingertip. “We’re getting off the subject of my dear brother Rafael, aren’t we?”

“I couldn’t care less about your dear brother Rafael,” said Adelina. “I want to know all about you.”

“Ada!” Irena’s lips drooped. “Please. I really, really want to talk about Rafael.”

Even Adelina had to admit she was being a little unfair. After all, Irena might have to marry the man. “Fine.” Adelina nestled into the cushions and pulled her knees to her chest. “But while we have a moment’s privacy, let me just say this. If your brother is planning on courting Ira, he needs to understand that my father isn’t a person to be toyed with.”

Silvana rested her head against her palm. “What do you mean?”

Adelina lowered her voice and glanced into the corners. The servants had a habit of dusting unseen. “He’s a criminal. Maybe even a murderer—”

Irena hissed a sharp breath. “Ada, you don’t know that.”

“Well, people whisper as much. Don’t deny it. Our father isn’t just some quaint vintner and tavern owner. The Golden Vine is a gambling den, a brothel, a guild of rogues and mercenaries, and Father is the spider who weaves all its corrupt threads together.”

The color slipped from Irena’s face. “Ada…really, that’s fanciful language.”

Surprisingly, Silvana’s face had not changed expression. “You have a vivid way of speech.” She crumbled a biscuit in her hand. “Your father mentioned that you like to read, isn’t that right?”

Adelina frowned at the evasive remark. “Yes, I read. It’s the only way to escape this monotony. But don’t change the topic.”

Silvana smiled. “We’re aware of your father’s reputation, Ada. We’ll behave ourselves appropriately, don’t worry.”

These strangers couldn’t possibly understand the fate that awaited them if they took a false step. But who could argue with someone so confident? “If you say so.”

“I’m curious about one thing.” Silvana stirred her tea and sampled it again. “We’ve visited several southern households, and in most of them every daughter was already wed, even ones as young as ten. Yet you’re both unwed in your twenties, and your father made clear that Adelina is not available for marriage. Why is that?”

“Yes, it’s unusual.” Irena nodded. “Our father has his own funny superstition. He married our mother at twenty-five. She was sickly, you see, and nobody expected her to live out of childhood, so nobody wanted to marry her. Nobody but Father. As it happened, she not only lived but bore three daughters.”

“Uncommonly romantic for a spider.”

“Father is a complicated man,” said Adelina. “With a web to match.”

Irena sighed. “You make him sound so sinister. Anyway, he believes that Mother’s survival was a miracle. He wants us all to wed at twenty-five, because he thinks that if we do, God will grant us the same fortune.”

“Twenty-five and no older?” said Silvana.

“And no older. Since my birthday five months ago, I’ve seen perhaps twenty suitors. But Father is fussy. I think the idea of my becoming nobility will win him over, though.” Irena closed her eyes. “I hope it does. Rafael is so very handsome, by far the most handsome suitor I’ve had yet.”

Adelina stuck out her tongue. “Kill me.”

“Oh, Ada. Can’t you at least agree that he’s handsome?”

“I don’t even know what handsome is and why it’s supposed to be so praiseworthy. I look at these so-called handsome men and I don’t feel a damn thing.”

Silvana smirked over the lip of her teacup. “Some women have no desire for men. It’s a plain truth, Irena, one you can’t hold against your sister.”

“She doesn’t have to desire him. There are lots of men I find handsome, but I don’t desire them.” Irena’s lips compressed into a pert line. “Not to mention that desire is a path toward lewd temptation.”

“A path well-traveled.” Silvana laughed, and Adelina’s toes curled in her shoes. “Yes, my brother is what they call a handsome man, and he is also what they call a decent man. You have nothing to fear if this arrangement goes ahead. In fact, you’d live a life of comparative freedom.”

“Freedom?” Adelina’s stomach lurched. “You mean…”

“Yes, I mean exactly what you think. Women are treated better under our laws. Irena would be allowed to own property, to participate in elections, to teach, to run a business if she liked.”

“But that’s not fair!” Tears pricked Adelina’s eyes. “When my turn comes around, my father will probably marry to me some local silk merchant, and I’ll be forced to lurk in his house doing needlework and producing a mountain of babies! Irena wouldn’t even know what to do with freedom!”

Irena scowled at her sister but, polite as ever, said nothing.

Silvana’s ironic smile faded. “You never know,” she said, touching her fingertips to the back of Adelina’s hand. “You strike me as a determined woman. I’m sure you’ll find another way.”

Adelina met Silvana’s sympathetic gaze, and a wave of dizziness consumed her. How was she supposed to breathe, let alone talk, when Silvana’s hand was still on her own, its light pressure an intoxication? “I…” She took a quick, shaky breath. “I’ll have to, won’t I?”

Irena sighed, her eyes locked on the golden field beyond the window. A breeze rippled across the bowed stems of the grasses and shook the leaves of the thin trees huddled beside the fence. “I can’t wait to be married. I’ve spent my whole life preparing for it, imagining it. To be a wife, a mother…”

The door opened and Father and Rafael entered, their foreheads bathed in sweat. “It’s hot as hell out there,” said Father, crossing to the window and undoing the clasp. “Let that breeze in, for God’s sake.”

Irena flinched, as she always did in the presence of impiety. “I’m sorry.” She gave Rafael a timid look. “Lord Rafael, did you enjoy the vineyard?”

“It’s immense, isn’t it? And those grapes!” Rafael mimed popping a grape into his mouth. “I’ve never tasted a wine grape so palatable straight from the vine.”

“Will you have some of our wine tonight at dinner?”

“Of course he will,” said Father, swooping upon the lunch tray and abducting the remaining cakes. “The wine flows like water in my house, Rafael.”

“You live like a king, Master Sebastian.”

“I do indeed! All I lack is the title.” Father spread jam through his beard as he ate. “But perhaps nobility and my family will soon be united, eh?”

Irena blushed. Rafael smiled at her, and she stared with fervent interest at the embroidery in her lap. “Perhaps so. I must say, though, that I hope there is in fact water in this wine-abundant land of yours. I’m parched.”

“Behold.” Silvana tapped the handle of a silver jug on the table. “A bounty of refreshing liquid for your throat, dear brother.” She poured Rafael a glass of water and passed it into his waiting hands. He drank with obvious enthusiasm, his Adam’s apple jumping, and returned the empty glass.

“Splendid.” Rafael rubbed his hands together. “May I ask when I will meet this enchanting wife of yours, Master Sebastian?”

Father snatched up the last gingerbread biscuit. “At dinner, I imagine. She is often at rest. Her health, you understand.” He crunched into the biscuit, spraying crumbs. “She’s very eager to meet you. Such exotic travelers, the likes of which we don’t often see.”

“And like all good exotic travelers, we have quite a few tales to tell.” Rafael leaned on the armrest of Irena’s divan, and she stared up at him in mute adoration. “Perhaps we can pass the afternoon with a tale or two, Irena, dear?”

Irena’s eyes lighted. “I would love nothing more—” Her face contorted. “Oh! I was supposed to bring Mother her medicine, and I’ve completely forgotten!”

Little wonder that Irena showed such consternation, Adelina thought. Tending to Mother was a task that could occupy hours, depending on her mood, and Irena was seeing her rare opportunity being blown away like seedlings in a strong wind.

Well, they were sisters. Adelina stood. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll take care of it.”

Relief swept across Irena’s face. “Oh, Ada, thank you.”

With a wistful glance back at Silvana, who waggled her fingers in farewell, Adelina left the drawing room and clomped through the musty hall toward the study. As always, the looming bookshelves reassured her. Each spine was a familiar face, each cover an old friend, and she paused to trace the dusty top of a favorite book of adventures. It featured a princess who met a man and fell in love—which had disappointed Adelina to no end—but rejected him in favor of going on more adventures, which had cheered her right up again.

Adelina opened the glass cabinet containing Mother’s many vials. Most of them were probably useless, just colored powders and scented water, but Mother insisted on taking them anyway. Adelina took a nearby bowl, stacked it with medicine and returned through the corridors to the lobby. The sun had reddened, the onset of evening. Would she be able to sit beside Silvana at dinner? Irena was responsible for laying the table, and now she owed Adelina a favor—so perhaps.

She trudged upstairs. The door to Felise’s room was open, and she paused in the doorway to watch her sister lying in the sun, her little hand gripping a pencil. “Hello, Lise.”

“Ada!” Felise lifted her head and frowned. “What are you doing with Mother’s medicines?”

“I’m being a nice sister for once.”

“It’s about time.” Felise raised her drawing for Adelina to see. “Do you like my horse? I tried to draw a rider too. I’m not sure it looks right.”

The “rider” made it appear as if the horse were being attacked by a vulture, but if Adelina was going to indulge one sister, it was only fair to likewise humor the other. “It looks wonderful. Rafael’s going to love it.”

“Yes, I know.” Felise flattened the paper on the floor and returned to her drawing.

Even in summer, the manor was always cold in the hallway outside Mother’s room. Adelina rubbed warmth back into her arms before knocking on the door. After an impatient wait she pushed it open. The only light in the stale air of the bedroom was a thin wedge of radiance slipping between the drawn curtains, barely enough to make out Mother’s thin body beneath the blankets. Her chest rose and fell, and Adelina relaxed. As much as she didn’t like her mother, she hardly wished death upon her.

“Mother.” Adelina touched Mother’s narrow shoulder. “I’ve brought your medicine.”

Mother’s eyes flickered open. At first she stared without expression, as though she were blind, but after a moment her lips lowered into a stern grimace. “Adelina. Has Irena taken ill?”

“Yes, she’s repulsively lovesick.” Adelina unscrewed the first vial and passed it beneath Mother’s nose. “Those foreigners are here.”