Fruit of the Golden Vine

by Sophia French

  “Ada! We can’t!” Irena scurried toward Adelina and caught the sleeve of her dress. “Father told us to take her to the drawing room, remember?”

  “To hell with Father. Are you coming or not?”

  “No!”

  “Then go practice your harpsichord. I’m sure that Rafael will be back later, and he’ll probably pretend to want to hear you play it.”

  “You’re so unkind.” Irena exhaled a gloomy breath and left with unhappy steps through one of the high corridor archways.

  “You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” Silvana put a hand on her hip and appraised Adelina, who blushed beneath the inspection. “Well, it seems to just be the two of us, Adelina. Shall we?”

  A pleasant spasm leaped through Adelina’s body. Just the two of them! “Yes. This way, come.” Adelina considered, for one breathless moment, whether she ought to take Silvana’s arm. No—not yet. Better to savor that idea and act on it later.

  They walked together across the lobby floor, descended the front steps and moved onto the path of crushed stone that circled the manor. The day’s heat settled about Adelina’s shoulders, mitigated by a cool breeze.

  “Your father lives a ways out of town.” Silvana shaded her eyes and gazed across the yellow grass to the horizon, where a line of handsome, clay-brick buildings marked the edge of the town. “Isn’t it inconvenient?”

  “We don’t travel anywhere except by coach.”

  “Do you and your sister visit the town often?”

  “Almost never.” The bitterness in Adelina’s voice was palpable, but she was powerless to prevent it. “And when we do, we’re always escorted by his friends.”

  “You unfortunate woman.”

  Adelina’s pulse raced. Woman! Not girl—woman! “Shall we go to the gardens?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  The path ran along the manor’s ancient, finely-crafted brick faÇade and beneath its wide, shaded eaves. It met with the low cobblestone fence that bordered the garden, which grew in a wild profusion of colors against the manor’s left flank. Adelina opened the wrought-iron gate and led Silvana beneath the feathered leaves of the trees lining the garden path. As they walked, insects droned, birds cackled from hidden branches and the majestic marble fountain played its watery melody.

  “As I thought,” said Silvana. “Beautiful.” They passed beneath an ivy-choked archway, and she gestured to a nearby stone bench shaded by the leaves of a tall, broad-limbed chestnut tree. “Let’s sit a moment.”

  “Very well.” Adelina hoped the trembling of her knees wasn’t visible through the fabric of her dress.

  Silvana sat without grace, her trousered legs apart and her elbows on her knees, and Adelina perched beside her. Their shoulders touched, and for an exhilarated second, Adelina was unable to think of anything but that slight contact.

  “This is much better than tapestry work.” Silvana leaned against the tree’s mottled bark. “Why didn’t you want my brother to kiss your hand?”

  Adelina took a moment to settle the shivering of her breath. “Because I didn’t want his grubby lips on my skin.”

  Silvana laughed, and Adelina’s heart skipped yet again. She’d never heard a woman laugh with such confidence. “How do you know mine are any less grubby?”

  “All men have grubby lips.” Adelina shredded a leaf between her fingers. “Because they talk nothing but horse shit.”

  Silvana laughed again and with such force that a flock of startled birds fled the branches above them. “Hardly the words of a respectable young woman.”

  “Ira’s the respectable one, not me.”

  Silvana continued to chuckle, her eyes slitted.

  “Why do you carry a sword?” asked Adelina when Silvana’s amusement had subsided.

  “To protect myself from bandits.” Silvana tapped her sword’s dented hilt. “Rafael and I have been traveling a great deal.”

  “I don’t know much about you two, except that Mother thinks Irena’s going to marry your brother. Where are you from?”

  “It’s a long story.” Silvana brushed a leaf from her shirt, a loose, dark green garment that suggested the outline of her small breasts. “I’ll tell you the short version. My brother and I are from Weldhaim. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes. To the north.”

  “Quite a distance. We have a manor there, left to us by our father, which is attached to a small village that also belongs to us. Lately, however, we’ve let the steward run it while we travel and explore the world. Rafael met your father recently, and he learned of Irena’s availability. He’s here to try his hand.”

  “I see.”

  A rabbit leaped from a bush and wandered toward the herb garden, where it sat with its nose amid the leaves. Adelina watched until it wriggled back into hiding. Her distraction gone, she turned her attention to Silvana’s profile. That high-bridged nose, those pouting lips, that strange tracing on her cheek, the way it gleamed in the sunlight…Adelina took an unsteady breath. “How old are you?”

  “Older than you.”

  “That’s no answer. Are you older than Irena?”

  “Quite a bit.” Silvana’s lips formed the knowing, slanted smile that had so enraptured Adelina earlier. “Old enough that I’d rather not say.”

  “Twenty-eight?”

  “Older.”

  Adelina scrunched her forehead. “Thirty?”

  “Older, I’m afraid.”

  “Thirty-four?”

  “Younger.” Silvana raised her hand. “No, no more guesses! Just use your imagination from there.”

  “What’s that beautiful design on your face?” Impelled by daring, Adelina placed her fingertip against Silvana’s cheek—the soft skin set her heart skittering again—and traced the branching lines. Her fingers trembled as they moved. “It’s like a tree.”

  Silvana tilted her head, allowing Adelina to run her fingers toward her neck. “It’s a custom of our family.” Adelina’s caress reached the delicate shape of Silvana’s collarbone, where the branching lines faded, and Adelina lifted her shaking hand away. An unfamiliar fire burned low in her body, and her heart seemed to have lost sense of its usual rhythm.

  “You’re blushing.” Silvana smiled, and the scalding heat in Adelina’s skin spread to the top of her chest and tips of her ears. “Oh, and now you’re really blushing.”

  Adelina turned her head away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. It was impolite.”

  “Don’t fear, Adelina. I enjoy being touched.” Silvana’s low laughter set Adelina tingling. “And I like your impoliteness. As far as I’m concerned, it speaks well of your character.”

  “Tell me, are you thirsty?” Adelina managed to return her attention to Silvana’s face. The moment their eyes met again, her stomach fell into convulsions. “Um. We can go back to the manor and have some lunch.”

  “I’d like that. Perhaps we can have it in the parlor, to appease your poor sister.”

  “She’ll show you her tapestries if we do. There’s no stopping her.”

  “I’ll survive. Especially if you can sneak me some wine.”

  “Just wait until dinner. My father will practically bathe you in it.” Adelina stood and brushed the seat of her dress. “And if my mother decides to start a conversation with you, you’ll need every drop. She wasn’t well enough to greet you, and she’ll be impatient to make up for lost time.”

  Silvana rose and crooked her arm. “Shall we?”

  Her heart no longer obeying any orderly tempo, Adelina slipped her arm through Silvana’s. As their bodies drew closer, Adelina shivered as if every nerve in her body had decided to sing at once. Hopefully Silvana hadn’t noticed. “Let’s walk by the fountain again as we leave,” Adelina said. “Irena likes to throw coins in there and make wishes. I come along later and fish them out.”

  “You’re a demon, Adelina.”

  “Ada.” Adelina tried to smile, but her face had frozen. “My friends call me Ada.”


  A subtle light gleamed behind Silvana’s dark lashes. “Ada it is.”

  Chapter Two

  “If you look here, you can see where I made a mistake in the stitching.” Irena pointed to a pattern on the embroidered handkerchief. “It was very late, and my eyes were pinched shut from weariness.”

  “I don’t see the mistake.” Silvana peered closer at the handkerchief. “Sorry.”

  “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 tha
t 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.”