A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

wine with Lira and Nora, Yaven’s wife. Yaven stood with me on the edge of the porch as we smoked cigars.

“The crop was fair enough this year,” Yaven said. “We had good rain in the spring and a good dry heat through most of the summer. Would have done a number on the vines, though, if they weren’t already dead.”

“It’s a fine cigar,” I said.

“Finest tobac north of the Burh I’d wager.”

I exhaled a big bluish cloud. “I wouldn’t bet a copper against that.”

“Sam! What’s taking you so long?” Tab shouted. “We are absolutely famished.”

Sam didn’t turn around.

“Lira, dear. You should have seen this place in its prime,” Nora said. “The Blue Vine it was called. The best wine I’ve ever had, and I’ve tasted some of the best imports Sevel has to offer.”

“The five-penny in Oakshire is hardly a destination for wine of any kind, let alone imports.” Tabitha laughed. “That man may claim his wine is Seveli, but it’s about as authentic as that ridiculous accent of his.”

Nora flushed. “Oh, you know what I mean, Tab. I’m just trying to tell her how it was is all.”

“I’m sure it was lovely,” Lira offered. “And a much better name. That should be one of the first changes, Fae.”

I nodded at the suggestion.

“It was all lovely,” Tabitha added, gesturing wide to the open air. “Until the war, of course.” She filled Lira’s glass, then her own, then tossed the empty bottle into the soft dirt behind. “Nora, love, hand us another one of the fifty and one’s.”

Lira turned to the crate of wine bottles. “You sure, Tab? It looks like the last bottle.”

“I’m sure,” she said. “That was Samial’s best vintage; I don’t expect we will ever drink its equal, so might as well drink it now while we have cause and strength enough to hold the bottle.”

“Blessings to that!” Lira said, raising her glass.

“So, Sam was the vintner here?” I asked.

Yaven nodded. “Since the beginning. He stayed on to tend the vines after Monroe bought the place, but after the Lady Monroe died? Well, it didn’t seem like there was much point to it anymore.”

I gestured towards Sam. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”

Yaven puffed on his cigar and smiled. “I was thinking the same about you, lad.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll go see if the old goat needs a hand.”

“Faerin, dear,” Tabitha said, tapping on the chair next to her. “Come, tell us how you managed to charm this lovely thing.”

I chuckled. “Charm may not be the right word. Let’s just say that when it comes to Lira, quin has always been on my side.”

“Ohhhhh,” Nora marveled. “You know what the omens say about quin blessing a union?”

“No,” Lira said. “What do they say?”

Nora hushed and turned to me as if seeking permission.

I held my palm up to her and locked eyes with Lira. “Destiny,” I said softly. “It means you’ve found your destiny.”

She held my gaze across the table, unmoving, unflinching. Her lips turned ever so slightly, whispering a silent promise.

“Well, there’s the answer to his charm right there, Nora,” Tabitha said. “See the way he looks at her? He may as well be smoldering beneath that skin. Hells and heavens, child, if a boy looked at me like that, I would throw away my dowry and dignity all on the same night. How do you resist?”

Lira lifted her wine glass to her lips and smiled. “I don’t.”

Sam and Yaven arrived with trays full of charred meats. We ate loudly, sharing stories, and drinking wine as if there was no tomorrow. When the meat was gone, Nora served white cake with sweet cream and fresh strawberries. After politely charging through a second helping, I finally threw in the towel.

“I yield,” I said. “I can’t possibly eat another bite.”

Nora wore a satisfied smile. “Well, I’ll make sure to wrap the rest up for you. Quin knows I don’t need any more at my age.”

Yaven looked over at her. “What about me? What if I wanted to take some home?”

She poked at his belly with her wooden fork. “You don’t need any either, you old bear. You get any bigger, and I’ll need to let out your pants again.”

“Everything was so lovely,” Lira said. “My compliments to you, Samial. I am quite sure the Seveli can’t hold a candle to your masterpiece.” She raised her glass and winked. “To your opus di san un wi. Blessings!”

“Blessings!” we called out in unison.

“Well, my lord Faerin, now that we are all contented, perhaps you’ll indulge an old woman’s curiosity?” Tab asked.

I turned to her. “Certainly.”

Tab smiled. “What are your plans for this place, now that it is yours to own? As you can see, it has reached a certain level of neglect. Are you planning on taking residence here?”

“I know little of wine, even less of running a vineyard,” I said, turning to Samial. “Perhaps it is a question better asked of Samial. How long do you think it would take to get this place producing once again?”

Sam took another bite of cake and said nothing.

“Sam, don’t be rude,” Tab scolded. “Faerin asked you a question.”

Sam chewed slowly then swallowed. “Long time.”

Tab nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “That’s enough of your sulking, Samial. Answer the man properly.”

Sam glared at her, then turned to me.

I wore my most charming smile. “If I’ve somehow offended you, Samial, please accept my apology. I ask only how we can restore this place to its rightful—”

“You don’t offend me.” Sam said, pointing, “those offend me.”

I followed his gaze and touched my chest, confused, then moved my hand up until I landed on my collar. “My stars?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Stars don’t bother me—a Ruk wearing stars does.”

“Honestly, Sam,” Tab said. “I’m sorry, my lord. He can be a little touched at times, fought in the wars and all. It’s not you.”

“I understand,” I said, holding up my palms. “I’m sorry, Ada. I didn’t realize you…”

“I’m not your Ada