Amaranta woke the next morning with a start, rubbing her head as she sat up. As she slipped out of bed and washed up, she could not help but feel like she was forgetting something important. Even after changing into her day clothes and making breakfast, the thought remained elusive, frustrating her up to the point where she was about to growl out loud.
She looked out the window and saw the sun beginning its ascent into the sky, the horizon blocking out half of the bright orange orb. Even then, it was not until she was feeding the family horse that the thought struck her smack dab in the face.
"Ah, the oldest Auditore son," she snapped her fingers in triumph, causing the bay stallion to stare at her out of the corner of his eye like she was mad. The Spanish woman spared a look at the quickly rising sun and sighed, "I suppose he lost the bet. Pity, he was a good looking fellow."
"Who was a good looking fellow, hija?" the deep, baritone voice caused her to spin around, the feed bucket still in her hands as she watched her father approach her. Tall, slim and tanned, Adan Valdez was a renowned glassmaker in Firenze and the neighbouring Tuscany, his pieces finding homes in the houses of well known families like the Medici and Auditore families.
"Federico Auditore, padre," she replied, turning back to the insistent stallion to pour more feed into the trough.
The man seemed to be stunned as he took in what she said, "Then you were successful?"
"No," Amaranta seemed slightly abashed as she said this. "I admit, my interest in him might have escalated to the point where I treated him like many of my other suitors back in Oviedo."
A bellowing laugh answered her and Adan clapped a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "That's my girl. Regardless, Federico is not the type to give up on a lady so easily. He will return, even though he has passed the deadline. We will succeed in our mission yet, hija, do not worry."
Amaranta cracked a small smile at her jovial father as he turned around and headed back into the house, probably readying himself for another day of glass making. Performing the basic house chores never bored Amaranta as it would other young women her age; she found that spending time with the horses at the nearby stable, where she worked as a stable hand, was therapeutic and never wanted for more. Of course, there was her little hobby that she told no one about, which was just as well, because she knew how society would take to a young woman who knew how to defend herself adequately: not well.
Suddenly, her ears caught heavy breathing and thunderous footsteps heading in the direction of her house, and immediately she sank into the morning shadows, a hand on the dagger on her waist. It was only when she heard the angry mutterings in a familiar voice that she lowered her guard. "Federico Auditore?"
The young man's head snapped up, and wide eyes turned itself on her before he composed himself to smile at her, "Ah, Amaranta. My apologies, I may have spent too much time in my family library."
She crossed her arms, her face taking on an impassive expression, "Regardless, you have missed the deadline that I have stated."
"Ah, would it make a difference if I told you who said the quote?" Federico splayed his hands open, as though pleading with her.
Amused by his sudden antics, Amaranta raised a brow, "Very well. Who said 'Be as you wish to seem'?"
A grin crossed the young man's handsome face, and at that moment Amaranta understood why he was so popular amongst the women of Firenze, young and old. "Socrates. Socrates was the one who first said the quote," he said triumphantly, his chocolate-amber eyes twinkling in the gentle sunlight. Amaranta, taken aback by his answer, could only let her jaw hang open in complete and utter surprise. The man had to have gone through the entirety of his family library to procure that little bit of information. Socrates was not well known in Italia, not even in Spain, and so the fact that he had researched the answer, well.
"It-," Amaranta coughed to regain her composure, "It is correct."
"Does that mean that I am allowed to pursue this venture of ours?" that same blinding grin lit up his face, prompting the Spanish woman to return a smile.
"I would hardly call this a venture, but yes," gold met chocolate, and matching smiles stretched across both their faces.