The Olive Conspiracy by Shira Glassman Page A

hands. There was water everywhere,
and Aviva bathed in it, submerged up to her broadly smiling
face.
    It was late now, some time after dinner, and
the baby was asleep with Rivka’s mother, Mitzi. Shulamit sat in the
center of her bed in her sleeping robes, braiding and unbraiding
the fringes of one of the decorative blankets. Her fingers, like
her mind, refused to lay still. “Rivka’s beggar witness said the
traitor from Lovely Valley was shedding chicken down.”
    “ Looks like she has more than one
reason to make you sick.”
    “ I know, right? I’d be laughing if
I wasn’t so worried.” She looked down at the blanket. “Rivka’s
sworn to hunt her down, as well as all the Imbrians involved—so I’m
glad we have at least that lead.”
    “ What about the
invasion?”
    “ The latest report showed the
infestation reaching down as far as a big family farm owned by a
man named Gil, but no farther—not yet,” said Shulamit. “I told the
guards to ride on ahead at sunrise and wait for me
there.”
    “ And you’ll catch up to them with
Rivka on Isaac’s back?” Aviva was used to such
practices.
    Shulamit nodded. “Bring Naomi over to the main
kitchen when she wants to nurse. One of the scullery maids is
nursing right now. She knows you might need her.”
    “ Naomi and I will see if we can’t
have ourselves some adventures with sweet potatoes while you’re off
in battle.”
    Shulamit looked up sharply. “Battle?
Right…”
    Aviva lowered her eyelids seductively. “I
should anoint the general before her campaign.”
    “ Anoint?” Shulamit’s eyelashes
fluttered in confusion.
    Walking over to a corner of the room, Aviva
retrieved a small vessel she’d smuggled in when they retired for
the night. “You carry all the hopes of the country with you
tomorrow,” she said as she returned to the bed. “You should also
feel the hope of the olives themselves.”
    She revealed what was in her hand.
    “ Is that olive oil?” asked the
queen.
    Aviva nodded.
    Shulamit’s face twisted. “But what if it—what
if there’s—should we be wasting it like that?”
    “ I used less in dinner.”
    The corner of Shulamit’s mouth twitched upward
in smirking admiration. “You were planning this.”
    “ Of course I was planning this. I
might talk rubbish, but there’s more in here than just
carrot scrapings.” Aviva grinned and knocked on her head with her
finger.
    “ C’mere.”
    Aviva climbed onto the bed carefully, holding
the vessel at a safe angle. She took up a position behind Shulamit,
kneeling so that the queen’s small backside was nestled in between
Aviva’s comfortably padded thighs.
    Shulamit sat perfectly still as Aviva pushed
her robe off her shoulders and down to her waist. With gentle
fingers, Aviva flicked the straps of Shulamit’s nightie one at a
time downward, letting the silky material collapse in weightless
folds around her tiny waist.
    Aviva poured a rarified amount of olive oil
from the vessel into one of her hands and began to work its slick
softness into the queen’s skin.
    “ This is what you fight for,” Aviva
murmured as she massaged. “This is precious. It needs you; it loves
you. This is the kiss of your land.”
    Shulamit let out a voiced breath, an indistinct
rose petal.
    “ You should remember this touch
when you’re out there, in the fields,” Aviva continued. “You fight
for our food. You fight for our fuel. You fight for the lights we
see by in the dark, and for our country’s prosperity.”
    Her lips were close to Shulamit’s ear now, and
she purposely exhaled into it. Shulamit’s warm body let out a
quaking shudder, and Aviva nuzzled her face against the side of her
head.
     
    ***
     
    The olive groves lined the far side of the
mountain ridge parallel to the great river that Perachi ships used
to take their cargo south to the Sugar Coast or north to Imbrio.
Here, on the Home City side, the mountains trapped both clouds and
warmth, and more tropical crops such as