The Olive Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

thought Isaac. He needs a
servant to slice open a papaya?
    “ What’s this?” asked the little
prince in Imbrian, half holding a bottle that was much too heavy
for him.
    “ Fernando, no! Put that down,” said
Carolina.
    “ Extra pure olive oil,” said
Shulamit. “First press.”
    “ How wonderful,” said the bearded
man, returning with a glass of port. “We will finally have the
chance to do a blind taste test of our two country’s
oils.”
    “ Nothing tastes of food right now,”
said Carolina.
    “ Perhaps the Prince-Consort will
try his hand at it, then?” Then, turning his head toward Shulamit
and her family, he bowed deeply. “Your Majesty. I have not yet had
the honor.”
    Carolina looked from him to Shulamit, then back
again. “Yes, you have, nine years ago! Shulamit, I don’t know if
you remember João—Visconde João Carneiro de Façanha?”
    “ He was the one playing the guitar,
right?”
    “ When I sang! Yes, that was him.
Wow.” Carolina shook her head. “Nine years. How long it’s
been.”
    Isaac eyed the glasses of port that were being
passed around. He didn’t want alcohol muddying his thoughts and his
reflexes, but the foreign wine appealed to his sweet tooth and
there were constant reminders that it was available on the other
side of the room.
    Arms folded across his chest, he remained with
the other guards and distracted himself by continuing to
eavesdrop.
    “ Such beautiful baskets you brought
us,” said the Prince-Consort as he examined its further
contents.
    “ Representing the very best of
Perach’s wealth—her farms and her groves,” said Shulamit, adding,
“Well, everything that would make the week’s journey without
spoiling, anyway.”
    “ Oh, wow, coconuts!” exclaimed the
little prince as he continued to rummage in the basket.
    “ Imbrio, too, is proud of the
riches she grows,” said the Prince-Consort. “I’m sorry, where are
my manners? Let me get you something to eat from that beautiful
spread over there. I’ll call a servant.”
    Shulamit, wide-eyed and speaking far too
quickly, blurted out, “No, that’s fine. I’m not hungry.”
    Isaac’s eyes narrowed. From his position with
the other guards, he could see her knuckles standing out from her
hands—sharp, pointy bones that spoke of stress. What was going on?
She’d been brushing off offers of food for years, ever since
finding out about her sensitivity to wheat and fowl. That’s how one
falls in love with a cook. Why was today different?
    “ Are you sure?”
    “ Oh, Shulamit, you must try a
Rissol de Frango, a chicken pastry pocket,” said Carolina warmly.
“Since eating gives me nothing right now, you go enjoy it for
me.”
    “ No, thank you,” Shulamit
repeated.
    Isaac stepped in and rescued her with a blatant
lie. “The queen is fasting for Simchat Torah.” Now he had to hope
the Imbrians were as uneducated about their customs as he was about
theirs!
    Shulamit lifted Naomi up to kiss her on the
forehead, but from Isaac’s angle it was obvious that she was using
her daughter’s curly hair to mask her smirk.
    “ Ah, then I wish you an easy fast,”
said Carolina with sympathy.
    “ Thank you.” Shulamit managed to
get the words out with a straight face.
    “ Some other time, then,” the
Prince-Consort continued, “you must return and sample our bounty.
We have so much that is known all over! And not just food. There is
indigo, there is cotton—” He paused. “Queen Shulamit, I think your…
er… wife would like to say something. She looks quite
distressed.”
    Aviva’s eyelashes fluttered as everyone turned
to stare at her. “I… it’s not a good topic for a room of
tears.”
    “ What is it?” Carolina pressed.
“ Querida , it’s not like I can get any sadder.”
    Aviva looked at Shulamit. Taking the queen’s
slight nod as approval, she said, “There are many in our country
who find Imbrian cotton and rice to cost something we can’t
pay—that of human