Arno-x-Elise

 The cellar was cool; light from the candle flickering on a nearby table. François de la Serre had left an hour earlier for some meeting, so there was no fear that he’d come stumbling down here to find his daughter and ward sharing a bottle of wine. He was almost fifteen, she already was. “How can you even drink this stuff Arno? It’s disgusting,” Élise said. “Much too sweet.” “I like sweet things,” Arno said, “it’s Bordeaux, what’s wrong with Bordeaux?” He took a hearty swig from the bottle. “Nothing,” Élise said, grabbing the bottle from hi