Adelina had always known Father to be the wealthiest man in town, but she hadn’t realized what that truly meant until her first day of freedom, when she’d pawned a ring he’d given to her as a chance gift. The pawnbroker had given her enough money to pay her board and food for two months—all from a single ring, while other people slept on the street, their bodies shivering in alleys. It had been Adelina’s first true lesson in privilege, and it had taught her something about humility as well.
She had chosen to stay at a cheap, ramshackle inn built some distance from the town’s lively center. Though she could have afforded a room at the town’s best inn, it happened to belong to the man they’d tried to force her to marry. In fact, so many of the town’s establishments were run by friends of Father’s that she’d expected to be caught within days, even hours; yet it seemed nobody was looking for a young woman with short hair, and when one morning she passed a sketch of herself nailed to a post in the town square, she was relieved to see little resemblance.
Her stomach muttered. Time for breakfast.
She slipped on her sandals and crossed the creaking floorboards. The stairs to the ground floor were noisier still, and the second to last wobbled as she placed her foot on it. The innkeeper had assured her that nobody had ever tripped on the stairs and died, but that seemed not to rule out the possibility that somebody had only been hideously injured.
The dining room was empty, sunlit and fragrant. A stick of incense smoldered in one corner to drive away the heavy odor of dust and alcohol. Adelina took her customary seat by the window and rang the bell. The kitchen door opened, and Agnete, the innkeeper’s wife, peered into the room.
“Marielle! I was just thinking that nobody wanted breakfast today, and here you are.” Agnete was in her thirties, perhaps—on the subject of her age, she refused to give a direct answer—and her high cheeks, sharp jaw and the perpetual gleam in her eyes gifted her a handsome presence.
“Hello, Agnete. I’d like eggs this morning, if you have any.”
“Always, Marielle. The day we run out of eggs is the day the Devil calls this world his own.” Agnete ducked back into the kitchen, and Adelina returned her attention to the street.
Not until she’d wandered into the inn, late on the afternoon of her escape, had the need for an alias dawned on Adelina. Pressured by the innkeeper’s impatient stare, Adelina’s frantic mind had pushed Marielle, Felise’s middle name, to her lips. She now wished it could have been otherwise, for each time she heard the name, she suffered a pang of regret for abandoning her little sister.
Agnete’s return pulled Adelina away from her regrets. “Here you are,” the innkeeper’s wife said, placing a plate of scrambled eggs before Adelina. “And I’ve a second plate for me, as I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Will you join me?”
“Of course.” Agnete settled into the chair opposite. “I’ve tried to be better about the pepper. The faces you pulled last time!”
“I’m not accustomed to so much in my food, that’s all.” Adelina dug her fork into the wobbling mass and lifted a yellow mouthful to her lips. It was rich with butter and salt, but not so much that her stomach protested. “Much better.”
“I thought it would be.” Agnete leaned on her elbow, one hand pressed to her tanned cheek, and smiled. “I’ve a question I’m wanting to ask, young one, but I don’t want to risk offending you.”
“You won’t offend me.” Adelina sipped from her water glass, washing some of the saltiness from her tongue. “What is it?”
“Well, a young woman who looks and dresses like you, traveling on her own…” Agnete interrupted her speech for a mouthful of egg, and Adelina waited. “To be blunt, Marielle, you’re the kind of girl who enjoys a maiden in her lap, aren’t you?”
Adelina’s cheeks burned. “Is that any of your business? And what would it matter if I was?”
Agnete gave a low chuckle. “None whatsoever, and it’d matter none at all.”
“Then yes, I am that kind of girl. Why did you ask me?”
“I just want you to know that if you have any lady friends, you can bring them back to the tavern and I’ll see that nobody says a word. I’ve no prejudice about it, and it’s better than you going somewhere dangerous.”
Of all the unexpected things…“What makes you so understanding?”
“My best friend’s that way too. She’s a married woman, and nobody knows but me. I understand better than most that we shouldn’t argue with love about where she lands her dart.” Agnete flashed a slanted grin. “Don’t feel any shame or fear, young one. It’s your room. Use it as you will.”
Adelina shifted the eggs around on her plate. “Your friend. What does she do about her feelings? Does she just remain unhappy?”
“Well, she’s unhappy, but so are many wives—many husbands, for that matter. For a time, she tried to content herself with caring for her child and doing her household duties.” Agnete shaped one of her thin eyebrows into a suggestive arch. “But now she visits the Golden Vine when her husband’s off traveling.”
Adelina shivered. “The Golden Vine?”
“Yes, they’ve a courtesan there who, my friend says, takes great pleasure in such dalliances. Her name was…oh, I forget. But supposedly she’s a beauty. My friend tells me I should go spend a night with her, that I’d be surprised. Me, I think I’ll stick to what I know.”
“I think your friend has the right idea.” Adelina fluttered her lashes, and Agnete laughed. “Thank you, Agnete.”
“It’s no trouble. Just take care of yourself out there. Do you have a knife, something you can conceal close to your breast?”
“A knife? No, should I?”
“I’d say so, sad as it sounds. A dagger with a sheath is best, because you won’t cut yourself as you carry it. You’re a pretty, buxom thing, and there are men in this world who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”
Adelina frowned at the blunt knife that lay beside her plate. And remembered: The next time a man tried to lay a hand on me, several years later, it cost him his eye. The eggs crawled in her stomach, and she took a hurried sip of water. “I’ll take your advice, but I’m not sure I’d have the courage to stab somebody.”
“In desperation, you’d be surprised what you can bring yourself to do.” A stooped man shuffled into the dining room, and Agnete stood. “I’d best get back to work. Enjoy the day. It looks to be a pleasant one.”
Agnete bustled to tend to the new arrival, and Adelina returned to watching the street beyond the window. A man and a woman walked by arm in arm, her face glowing, his radiating arrogant confidence. Would Rafael and Irena soon be married? If so, Adelina would miss the wedding, spoiling the day Irena had longed for. If only there was some way Adelina could attend in disguise…but if she did, Mother would probably catch her scent.
The idea of Mother on her haunches, snuffling like a wolf, made Adelina laugh, and her fellow diner looked up in surprise. Adelina drained the last of her water and rose to her feet. As Agnete had said, the day was pleasant. No point wasting it.
It was Sunday, which meant the market was thriving. Adelina could hear the revelry and chatter even from the inn’s doorstep, and she followed the sound through the broad, cobbled streets. The sun soaked her skin, and a gentle breeze kept the odor of the town at bay. Horses clopped by with coaches wobbling in tow, children fought in the street with sticks, a man sat in a window strumming on a mandolin, a woman dropped a basket of fruit and inexplicably laughed at her calamity—it was a world of life, color and human variety, and Adelina no longer had anybody to share it with.
A group of young men stood on a street corner, braying idiot laughter and jabbing each other in the ribs. Adelina tipped her straw hat lower. Not for the first time, she wished she had some way to obscure her large breasts and ample hips, which gave her no chance her being mistaken for a boy and thereby avoiding mockery.
“Look at the tomboy!” The young man spoke at such volume that surely the whole stre
et could hear. “You’ve got a nice legs and arse. You ought to come over here and give me a kiss.”
Adelina hunched her shoulders. Even if she’d had a dagger, how would it protect her from this shame and revulsion?
“You’d rather my sister, is that it? You like a bit of cunny?” The men laughed, and Adelina cringed. “Hey, don’t walk away, you little slut! Don’t you have any manners?”
If Silvana had been here, those men would never have dared. Adelina glanced at her bare fingers—that beautiful ring—and a sickening regret flooded her chest. But no, she had to remember that Silvana had never loved her. Anytime she dared consider that those anguished words of parting might have been true, Adelina was wrenched near to vomiting. To hate Silvana and never forgive her was the only defense she had, a weapon concealed within her breast to ward off despair.
The banners and flags of the marketplace came into sight and, with their color, drove away the memory of the young men’s taunts. Adelina elbowed her way through the crowd and sniffed the air for any sign of pastries. She picked up a trail and pursued it to a red and white striped awning erected over several crates of baked goods. A quick exchange took place, and Adelina returned to the throng with an iced bun in hand.
From behind a packed row of tents came the sound of music. Adelina pushed toward the noise and found an audience gathered before a bard, who sat upon an upturned box with a lyre in hand. She settled beneath the shade of a nearby tree, removed her hat and bit into her bun. The icing was sweet, and she licked her lips to catch the specks she’d missed.
“This next song is about love,” said the bard.
A bald man in the front row snorted. “All your songs have been about love.”
“And that ought to teach you something, Master Baldhead.” The bard’s fingers danced above the strings of his instrument, and a clear note quivered in the air. “And so the tale begins.”
“Her lips had never known a kiss,
To her no soul had sworn,
In longing she was fastened,
Forever lonely lorn.
But love has ways of being found,
By any wanting heart,
And each day drew it close to her,
To aim its trembling dart…”
The music disturbed too many memories that Adelina preferred to leave alone. She returned to the maze of stalls and tents, trying not to think of her handsome Silvana, whom she had loved so briefly and lost so painfully. As she wandered without caring for her direction, townsfolk passed her by, their faces made unrecognisable by her tears.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
She turned, her heart beating a wild rhythm, only to see a squat man with a scar on his forehead. “You forgot your hat.” He shoved the straw hat into her hands. “I called out, but you walked off like you were in a dream.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you.” Adelina redonned her hat and took a coin from her purse. “Here, for your trouble. If you don’t think it’s impolite.”
“I won’t say no.” The man pocketed the coin and gave her a gap-toothed grin. “Well, have a good day, my lady.”
Adelina nodded. “You as well.” She resumed her slow walk through the market, her thoughts still turbulent. Why had she been so stupid as to come back to this market? The place was haunted by that woman, cloaked and silver-marked, whose memory refused to fade.
Court me in darkness, sweet Adelina, with only the moon as our witness.
Why wouldn’t these thoughts leave?
An answer came to her, dark and sinuous, and wound itself around her heart. Adelina’s heart returned to its normal pace, and a cool determination swept aside her doubt. Yes, that would work. She would break irrevocably the romance she had wrought. She would reap what her father had sown.
She would visit the Golden Vine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A full moon rose above the rooftops, and its silver glow illuminated the cobblestones. Adelina held her overcoat tightly around her body and buried her nose beneath its high collar. It was still warm despite the late hour, but the coat was the only way she could obscure both her face and body.
She walked under the shadows of high eaves and toward the radiant light of the Golden Vine. Silhouettes crowded the tavern’s many windows, and a steady stream of guests staggered through its imposing double doors. Adelina had never been inside her father’s domain, nor, for that matter, had anyone else in her household, and her imagination had furnished it with dripping blades, leering mercenaries, naked courtesans and coins strewn across tables wet with spilled liquor. Surely the truth was more prosaic.
The door opened once more to release a swaying man with a bundle under his arm. He wobbled by Adelina, not looking once in her direction, and she moved to catch the door before it closed. Her breath held, she wandered into a confusion of tobacco smoke and fragmented laughter. Shadows weaved through the smoky half-light.
Sweat gathered on Adelina’s neck and slid down her sides as she tried to find anything resembling a counter or desk. How did anybody see anything in this murk? She moved deeper into the darkness, trying not to blunder into the shapes flitting about her, and stopped short. Marconus and Matheus, her father’s friends, sat a table engaged in conversation—that is, Marconus spoke, and Matheus sat as usual like a body waiting to be embalmed.
Marconus glanced in Adelina’s direction. She turned away. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognize her, but if they did…
A silhouette broke from the fog and took the form of a woman carrying a mug. Adelina caught her arm. “Excuse me, I’m lost.”
“It’s understandable.” The woman gave Adelina a quick inspection. “What are you looking for?”
“The, uh…” Adelina licked her dry lips. “The courtesans.”
The woman smirked. “Is that so, sweetie. Well, you want to talk to Velvet. Keep walking ahead and then follow the wall to the right. You won’t miss her.” She sauntered back into the confusion.
Her eyes already itching from the smoke, Adelina followed the directions as best she could. The haze faded, the chatter of the tavern lost its volume and the light of an open door became visible ahead. A woman waited beside the glowing entryway, running a comb through her hair and gazing into the distance without expression. Adelina drew nearer and coughed the smoke from her throat. “Are you Velvet?”
“That’s me, love.” Velvet tucked the comb into her bodice. “That’s an ugly coat you have there. Don’t want to be recognized, is that it?”
Adelina nodded, and Velvet laughed. There was something mocking about the sound, and Adelina drew deeper into her collar. “Oh, you poor little dove,” said Velvet. “If you’re here to ply trade, we don’t need new girls. If you’re here to have a man, we don’t have any. If you’re here to have a woman, then you’re near to paradise. Which is it?”
“I’m here to have a woman.”
Velvet eyed Adelina’s hair. “Yes, I expected you were. You naughty women like to shed your locks, don’t you? I’ve often wondered why that is.”
“I suppose so we can recognize each other. And so that men are less interested.”
“Oh, honey, you’re naive.” Velvet put a hand on her hip. “Nothing can keep them at bay. They’re animals. You could cut your nose off and they still wouldn’t leave you be.”
Adelina ran her fingers through her hair to her scalp. It was still hard to say whether she preferred it this way. She missed the weight of her shorn hair, the way its loose strands had tickled her face and caught on her lips. Yet she loved the feel of the air on her neck, the defiance that she now exuded and the knowing looks she sometimes received from women in the street. She sighed and returned her attention to Velvet. “Well, in that case, I won’t bother cutting off my nose.”
Velvet gave a short laugh. “That’s good. You have a very pretty nose.” She put an arm around Adelina’s waist. “Come with me, and I’ll take you to Nerine.”
As she ascended the stairs behind Velvet, Adelina’s nerves increased th
eir shivering. The company of a courtesan would have none of the innocent charm of kissing Irena’s friend in the gardens, nor would it have any of the magic of being in her dryad’s arms beneath the protective vigil of a great tree. This was something coarser, more frightening. What if this Nerine laughed at her inexperience? Or, worse, what if Adelina simply bored her? She’d never touched another woman between the thighs before. She’d expected Silvana to teach her…
“Here we are, love.” Velvet led Adelina into a room filled with languid women draped across furniture. “Nerine, I’ve brought you a morsel hidden beneath a terrible coat.”
“Is that so?” A towering, exquisite woman with languid limbs and a face both wicked and haughty—Nerine no doubt—took gracefully to her feet and gave Adelina an appraising look. “You’ve come to me bundled like a gift I’ll have fun unwrapping. What’s your name, light of my heart?”
Adelina’s lips formed an ‘A’ before she caught herself. “Marielle.”
“Gorgeous.” Nerine took Adelina’s hand. “To my chamber, Marielle.”
“Don’t be so loud this time,” said Velvet. “Some of us don’t enjoy the sound of two women moaning together.”
Nerine chuckled. “How a prostitute can have prejudices is beyond me.” She ushered Adelina into a large bedchamber. Adelina sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with the coat’s buttons while Nerine closed the door, peeked into a mirror and adjusted her hair.
“I haven’t done this before,” said Adelina. Her insides wriggled, and she took a deep breath. “I mean, I have, but not…not all of it.”
“And what, my love, do you mean by ‘all of it’?” Nerine reclined on the bed, and the part in her skirt widened to reveal the full length of her thigh. Adelina’s face scalded to the tips of her ears, and she pressed her shaking hands together in her lap.
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