Fruit of the Golden Vine (22 page)

Orfeo raised his enormous hand in welcome. “Your meal is cooling, my lady Silvana!”

“Good. I like nothing less than to burn my tongue.” Silvana and Rafael joined the table. Silvana nodded at Irena, who sat opposite, and received an oddly timid smile in return.

The meal was some combination of stewed vegetables and indeterminate meat. It was well-spiced and well-cooked, but a little too rich, and after only the second spoonful Silvana reached for a mug of cider to cleanse her palate. She turned to Felise, who was giggling at some joke Adelina was telling her. Perhaps the child’s innocence might similarly cleanse some of the heaviness from her heart. “Where’s Mona now, Felise?”

Felise brightened further. “She’s sleeping on my foot. I wanted to feed her scraps, but Father said no.”

“Have you ever drawn people, or only animals?”

“I want to, but it never comes out right. It never looks like the same person.”

“It’s true,” said Adelina, a spoon hovering by her lips. “She tried to draw Irena once, and it came out looking like an ogre.”

Irena pouted. “And then you told her that it was a perfect image of me.”

“I remember!” Felise clapped her hands. “I wish I still had the picture. It was horrible. When I showed Father he laughed until he turned purple.”

“I didn’t think it was so funny at the time.” Irena stroked Felise’s hair. “But it just seems silly now.”

“Well, they say time heals,” said Adelina, and she slurped the food from her spoon. “I suppose that’s why.”

“Time doesn’t heal.” Silvana stared into the glistening broth in front of her. “It merely buries. And sometimes things buried work to the surface, just as a splinter might.”

Adelina’s blue eyes softened. “And then you can pluck it out, surely.” She scooped up another spoonful of food and blew on it. “Do you have something buried?”

“Me?” Silvana twisted her lips into an angled smile. “My soul is a graveyard, Ada.”

“What is that you want most? What do you long for?”

“That which we all long for. To be loved.”

“Is Ada your fir—” Irena stopped midspeech, and her cheeks turned pink. “I mean, have you ever been in love before?”

So Irena knew. Silvana gazed into her eyes. There was no shadow of hostility in those twin pools, only the clarity of gratitude and the warmth of affection.
I’ve always wanted a big sister.
Silvana had assumed Irena—Ira—was referring to her coming status as sister-in-law. Now the words took on a deeper meaning, a significance that set Silvana’s chest aching. “I’ve been in love, yes.”

“But it didn’t last?”

“It wasn’t returned. Not the way I hoped it would be. To love me truly, one would have to give up a great many things. Friendships, reputations, hopes for a family. Nobody has ever been willing to abdicate their lives to join their hearts with mine.”

“Why?” said Felise.

“Hush.” Irena tugged on Felise’s ear, and she yelped. “It’s an adult conversation, Lise. Finish your meal.”

Silvana glanced sidelong at the three men beside her. It was a good thing Orfeo spoke so intently and at such volume, and that whatever he was saying seemed of such great interest to Sebastian. Rafael, however, looked back at her with a solemnity that suggested he’d been listening to her.

“I can’t understand how anyone could refuse the chance to be with you,” said Adelina. “Even if it meant giving up everything.”

“I do understand, though,” said Irena, her tone gentle. “I’ve cried often at the thought of marrying because I know it means leaving you and Lise behind. To sacrifice one love for another, it’s the hardest thing of all.”

Silvana looked away. The ache in her chest had intensified into a pain, sharp enough to tighten her breath and prickle her eyes with tears. There was no hell hot enough for her and Rafael, no death too slow, no punishment too cruel. To think they would take Irena from her beloved family to some disheveled, half-collapsed country home surrounded by tangled woods and rotted soil, and then deny her even the opportunity to write a letter home, for fear of her parents exacting their wrath…

“Silvana?” said Adelina. “You seem perturbed by something.”

“By the truth in Ira’s words, that’s all.” Silvana tried to hold Adelina’s gaze, but guilt forced her to once more avert her eyes.

“Mona is going to sleep on my bed tonight,” said Felise. “She’ll curl up beside me.”

“What if she fouls your sheets?” said Adelina. “You’d have to clean it yourself.”

“She won’t. She’ll be good. But if she does, I’ll shout at her and she won’t do it again.”

Irena giggled and squeezed Felise’s cheek. “I shout at your misbehavior yet you still repeat it. Won’t Mona be the same? A naughty little girl like you?”

Felise’s forehead furrowed. “You always do as you’re told, though. I think Mona will be good like you.”

“Irena even looks a bit like Mona,” said Adelina, eyes gleaming. “Those long, droopy ears, that silly lolling tongue…”

“Ada!” Irena flushed. “You take that back!”

“See, she even barks like Mona does!”

Felise giggled so hard she dropped her spoon, and Irena stopped pouting and started laughing too. As Silvana watched them, the pain in her chest found its way to her heart. Confess, flee, or continue—no matter which she chose, this happiness would soon be lost to her. A familiar darkness surrounded her, a black mood in which a noose hung over every thought and every possibility was stopped by a razor’s edge. It would be sweet to believe that in her last hour, the moon she loved would take pity on her, reaching down through withered branches to release her sorry soul. But in truth, she would simply die and be damned.

Rafael shook Silvana’s shoulder. “I know that look. Come back to the light, Silvie.”

Back to the light…

The last time she’d tried to take her own life, Rafael had found her barely in time. As the noose had tightened and her mind had moved to the edge of dissolution, she’d understood that she held no true desire to die, and when the rope had loosened, she’d wept while drawing each painful, unexpected breath. Yet even now the idea of death continued its relentless seduction. Silvana shuddered. She was dauntless in life, so why was it that she bore this tragic inclination?

Yet she knew very well why it was. Silvana returned to her meal, but each mouthful was tasteless and lay heavy in her stomach. She closed her eyes and tried not to listen to the sound of Adelina’s laughter.

To be loved.

Sebastian lurked in the recesses of the coach, his face drawn into a predatory expression. Rafael sat with his head in his hands, the victim of too much cider, while Silvana watched Sebastian with a gnawing sense of trepidation. The moment he’d declared his intention to ride home with them, leaving his daughters to the second carriage, it had seemed certain that he intended some private discussion.

Yet though they had ridden for some time, the coach bouncing as it struck rocks and tilting as it turned too quickly, Sebastian remained in calculating silence. It was impressive and disconcerting how his manner could shift from jovial to crafty in the timing of a heartbeat, leaving Silvana none the wiser as to which was the act and which was the real man—or if both were true, or indeed neither.

Finally he smiled and spoke. “From the account of my daughters, your outing was a pleasant one.”

“Very pleasant,” said Silvana. “And the food from your kitchens was superb.”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, Bruna bakes well.” His smile lapsed. “While listening to the anecdotes of the day, something struck me. Every time my daughter heard your name spoken, she blushed. Any time she spoke it herself, she averted her eyes.”

The trap was obvious. “Which daughter do you refer to?”

“You know very well.” Sebastian half-closed his eyes, as if weary, but the cunning remained behind his lashes. “Adelina.”

Silvana took a breath to calm her unease. “I suppose because she’s in love with me. You knew this already.”

“I asked you to discourage her. Do you need another night with Nerine, is that it?”

Silvana glanced at Rafael, who watched them with his mouth set in a grim line. “I thought your request was only that I do nothing to encourage her,” she said. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to actively drive her away.”

“Well, my lady, it so happens that I do. I suggest you come up with some way to disabuse Adelina of her feelings. Tell her that her infatuation is foolish, immoral and that it disgusts you.”

“You can’t be serious. You’re asking me to condemn myself as well. You know very well her proclivity is also my own.”

“Which is what concerns me. Tell me, Mistress Silvana, is my daughter still pure?”

“No living being is pure, Master Sebastian. You and I perhaps least of all.”

Rafael interrupted. “If I could—”

“Silence,” said Sebastian with a new edge to his voice. “If you both wish to continue under my roof—indeed, if you both wish to continue to walk freely within this town—you’ll do as I suggest without objection or amendment. Go to Adelina first thing tomorrow, rebuke her and never come near her again.”

“You don’t understand.” As her fists clenched, Silvana’s fingernails cut into the flesh of her palm. “You would force upon Ada an endless horror of self-loathing. She can neither compel nor cease her longings, and so she would forever be tortured by her own nature.”

“I said without objection—”

“To hell with your dictates. To save your meaningless reputation, you would have your daughter imagine herself an abomination, and that path leads to an early grave. You say you love Adelina and prize her happiness. If so, be grateful I am defying you. In so doing, I am protecting her from you.”

“Is that your answer to me?” Sebastian’s tone descended to a low growl. “That you know better what is good for my daughter than I do? That you can dictate to her father how she should best be raised?”

“You can’t comprehend her thoughts and feelings, but I know them all too well. We are the same, she and I. Our sympathy runs far deeper than your assumed paternal wisdom.” Silvana extended her hand. “If you refuse to change your mind, then I suggest you put a dagger in this hand and tell me to cut her throat. It would be more merciful.”

Sebastian sighed and sank back. “I didn’t become wealthy by ignoring counsel. Very well. I do not need you to reproach Adelina. Instead, I will only ask that you leave my household. Baron, do you understand? You may continue to court Irena, but your sister cannot stay with us.”

Rafael flushed. “Such a demand disrespects both of us. She is my blood, and I’ll be damned if—”

“No, Rafael.” Silvana touched Rafael’s shoulder. “This is how it should be. I only ask for one thing, Master Sebastian, and that is to be allowed to leave in the morning, not tonight. Ada’s heart is precious to both of us. Let me break it gently.” Silvana steeled herself. “And tell me true. Are you intending to marry her to Orfeo?”

“I am.” Sebastian spoke the terrible words with what sounded like genuine regret. “You think I’m being cruel, but I’m doing her a mercy. If Delfina finds out…no, Ada must leave my household and assume the respectability of marriage. If she goes to Orfeo, she will at least remain my neighbor.” He stared out the coach window. “I had wanted her to marry at twenty-five, but that was foolish, an old man’s whim.”

“If you truly want to do her mercy, set her free.”

“It’s easy for you to say. Ada isn’t like you. She has no title, no wealth, no brother to travel at her side. You wield a sword better than any man I’ve seen. You know the world. You understand its dangers. She doesn’t.”

“She needs no brother. I would devote my life—”

“It can’t be done, damn you! The scandal of it. Ira and Lise are destined to be respected women. Delfina would never forgive me.” Sebastian ran his hands through his thinning hair. “Orfeo is an old friend, and he’ll treat her well enough, if he wants to stay in my good graces. Ada will remain close, able to join us for lunch or dinner. She’ll be able to watch her little sister grow into womanhood. It won’t be so bad as she fears.”

Silvana closed her eyes until the turmoil within her had subsided. “May I leave in the morning?”

“You may. No kisses farewell.”

“I understand.” Silvana moved the curtain of her own window and gazed into the twilight. It seemed appropriate that the moon be obscured by clouds.

Silvana awoke from a dream of blood and trees.

A wedge of morning light crept through the curtains and touched the foot of her bed. She sat, tossed the blanket aside and washed her face from a bowl of clear water. A mirror was fixed above the bowl, and she stared for some time at her reflection. It seemed as if she had been staring into this exact same face her entire life. As if she had been born this age and had remained ageless. Even the intricate design on her cheek refused to fade.

There was a quiet tap at the door. Silvana’s insides twisted. She couldn’t yet confront Adelina, but she could hardly ignore the knock. She opened the door with a shaking hand.

At the sight of her brother’s serious face, she sighed. “Rafael. Thank the Goddess. I thought you were Ada.”

“No, but she’s up and awake. She’s in the garden with Felise, Ira and the puppy.”

“I can’t face her.” Silvana sat on the mattress, which sagged beneath her. “I don’t know what I can tell her that will give some consolation to both of us.”

“Maybe I can help.” Rafael’s deep brown eyes, so like her own, shone with resolution. “I thought all night about what you said. That you could survive with her forgiveness.”

“Yes. I can’t stand that we’ll part with lies still between us.”

Rafael sat beside her and put an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s tell them the truth, then. If Irena rejects me, so be it. What matters is that we’ll have bared our souls and shed our sins.”

“Do you mean that?” Silvana took a shuddering breath. “Rafael, if they tell their parents, then…”

“Then we’ll get what we deserve.” Rafael stroked Silvana’s hair. “I love you, Silvie, and I owe you my life in more ways than one. Let’s go redeem ourselves.”

Silvana stared at her brother, and her breath moved again. “Thank you.”