A Little Talk Over Breakfast

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Breakfast was light and for the next thirty minutes, the two of them ate in the peace of silence.

The Shepherd savored his simple breakfast of bread and cheese, thankful for the sweet meat of salted ham, a rare treat he rarely could afford. And the fresh juice was a luxury he had never enjoyed in his life.

Occasionally, his hostess would smile at him warmly as she buttered her bread with a generous spread of a thick red jam, eating her sliced persimmon slowly in between bites.

Other than that, they didn’t speak a word.

The Shepherd was surprised and pleased that Adrianna also appreciated to start her day without morning chatter, listening to the crackle of fire and the savory wood burning smell, the increasing glow of rising morning making a serene start to the day.

Once she was done eating, the young maid didn’t miss a beat, stepping forward and pouring a large mug half full of dense black coffee, then followed it with steamed cream, willows of smoke rising from the mug as she dropped one generous nugget of sugar cane in the cup and stirred.

Adrianna took a long sip, and sighing contentedly, she leaned back and nodded to the Butler.

The Butler dismissed the maids, remaining the only servant in the room, before stepping forward with the morning papers in his hand.

The Shepherd was stunned at what followed.

For more than an hour, the stately Butler meticulously read through every article in the paper, telling the news of government, political competition, business. He even read through gossip and advice columns.

He only stopped when Adrianna made a comment or asked for clarification, leaving room for conversational debate between them.

What struck the Shepherd most was the sharp focus in her beautiful golden eyes.

The dreamy relaxation of morning was over and the Courtesan was back to work.

It was clear that Adrianna the Beautiful committed everything to memory that the Butler read to her. The Shepherd knew from the subtle back and forth motion of her eyes as she listened.

When the morning ritual was over, the Butler dropped the newspaper on the side of the table closest to the Shepherd. Adrianna thanked him for sharing the news and dismissed him, asking the servants to wait until they were gone before tidying the parlor.

Then Adrianna glanced at the Shepherd.

“Well-informed and intelligent conversation is an excellent ability to bring to a salon, wouldn’t you say? Why do you think I’ve lasted as long as I have?”

The Shepherd said nothing.

Adrianna’s left brow cocked higher as she met the Shepherd’s gaze. She smiled slowly.

“Nobody knows I’m illiterate.”

The Shepherd nodded.

“I hope you honor my secrets.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I won’t say a word to anybody.”

“I figured you would. You have the most marvelous sense of privacy.”

“Do you do this every morning?”

She nodded.

“How much do you remember?”

“Not every word or detail, of course. But more than enough to hold my own in the lively debates and arguments that happen at parties amongst the powerful men of the country. That ability has made me some valuable friends.”

The Shepherd flushed.

If he’d had any doubt about the nature of those valuable friends, the sly mischief gleam in Adrianna’s eyes made sure he knew.

Adrianna smirked in the face of his embarrassment.

The Shepherd glanced away.

Noticing the newspaper next to him, he picked it up and skimmed through the articles the Butler had already read aloud. One section he hadn’t covered were the notices of recent deaths.

Startled at the name he recognized, the Shepherd spoke without thinking.

“Anthony is dead! He was found in his bed the next morning after our meeting in the town square.”

He looked up to see Adrianna staring at him. Her golden eyes were wide, and the Shepherd almost flinched at the pain and envy he saw there.

“Anthony,” he repeated. “The Mayor’s son.”

“I know of whom you speak. I heard about it yesterday.”

The two shared a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Were you close to him?”

The Shepherd couldn’t imagine how that could be. Adrianna chuckled.

“Of course not. Anthony’s been dead for all practical purposes for many years anyway. It’s merciful that he’s finally out of his misery.”

The Shepherd frowned, thinking of that raging tower of screaming hearts.

“I wonder if all of them have died.”

“Doubtful,” Adrianna replied. “I’m pretty sure we’ll hear about it if the broken spirits of Ella Bandita have all suddenly perished now that she’s dead.”

The Shepherd said nothing.

Adrianna paused and leaned back.

The Shepherd was careful to keep his demeanor neutral, but he must have betrayed something.

“She is dead, isn’t she?”

The Shepherd turned to her. Adrianna’s golden eyes gleamed as she stared him down. She reminded the Shepherd of a hungry wolf.

“Bloodlust is much to take on in the early part of the day.”

Adrianna smiled grimly and shrugged.

After a moment, her eyes flicked to the newspaper in his hand, and again the Shepherd saw the flash of pain in her eyes.

“How did you learn how to read, dear Shepherd? You may come from people who never suffered the indignities of indentured servitude. But it’s impossible you should come from those who could afford education.”

“The same way I learned how to draw and play fiddle,” the Shepherd replied, relieved at the change of subject.