“I hate to tell you, but your copy isn't a collector's item,” Adele jested as she lifted the book from the floor and set it on a table. Then she answered him earnestly. “Multiple copies allow it to reach more people. A book must be read by many if it is to have its message known.”
“Amazing.” His eyes were afire with the possibilities and wonder about him. His finger ran along the spines, mimicking Adele's earlier action. He turned toward her suddenly. “Which books do you prefer?”
Adele mused for a moment. “Fiction. Though the court tutors would be aghast at such a thing. They'd much prefer me to relish art history and musical theory.”
“Where are your favorites?”
“Here.” Adele darted among the rows and he chased after her. She twirled girlishly in a large alcove, her arms gesturing around her. “These are the ones I adore. I sometimes had to sneak a book from here and read it in the chemistry section so they thought I was studying.”
“So you read them in secret?”
She blushed. “Yes. Like you.”
Greyfriar caught her up in a swift embrace, and together they stared at the volumes around them. “May I see one of them?”
“Of course, silly.” She climbed a ladder to the top shelves. The book she chose was a very large dusty volume, so he climbed up to help her.
“What is it?” he asked.
“An illustrated book of fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales,” he said. “Stories of make-believe. I have a book full of them in Edinburgh.”
“Yes, I remember. Tales of monsters, beasts, heroism, magic, redemption, and true love.” She ran a finger along the line of his chin hidden beneath the scarf. “But fairy tales also warn of evil deeds and dark thoughts to scare you onto the path of good and pure.”
“So they are lessons meant to teach?”
“Yes, cloaked in a fanciful story.” Adele's tug on his cloak ended with a reverent caress.
“Do we have time to read one?” He guided her to a chair.
They didn't really. The empress had a late conference with the prime minister, but that could wait.
“Of course,” she replied, taking a seat. Greyfriar perched on the arm of the leather chair and stared eagerly as she opened the book. Inside was a glorious painting of two beautiful young girls, one with raven hair and one blonde, standing face-to-face with a horrifying bear.
Adele began to spin the tale of Snow-White and Rose-Red. These two sisters helped everyone, even a miserly evil dwarf who would just as soon have sacrificed them to a terrifying bear to save his own hide.
“The evil creature pled, ‘Sir Bear, I beg you, do not kill me. Rather here are two young girls, easy to catch and delicious! You should make them your meal!’ The bear was not moved by the dwarf's hateful claims, and used his mighty paw to clout the evil creature on the head. The miserable little man fell to the ground dead.
“Snow-White and Rose-Red ran away through the forest, afraid that the bear would eat them. The bear chased after the two girls, but he offered them no danger. He called out: ‘Snow-White and Rose-Red, please do not run from me. I would never do you harm. Listen to my words and know the truth.’ The two sisters listened to him and stopped in their flight. When the bear came near, his coat of fur dropped away to reveal a beautiful young man in golden armor. ‘I am the prince of this land. The evil dwarf took from me my treasure and then cursed me to walk the land as a ferocious bear. Now he is dead and the curse is lifted.’
“Snow-White fell in love with the prince and they were married. Her sister Rose-Red was wed to his brother. The vast treasure they split between them, and they brought their old mother to live with them. She dug holes for the two rose vines outside her window so that she could see the beautiful white roses and red roses when they bloomed each and every year.”
“The frightening bear was really a prince,” Greyfriar observed.
Adele nodded with a broad smile. “Yes.”
He stared at the elaborate illustration of the bear shedding his animal skin to become a prince. “The story could be about me.”
“Would that make Cesare the wicked dwarf?” They both laughed at that comical image.
Greyfriar played with an auburn curl. “It seems you read a great deal about monsters. No wonder you weren't frightened of me in Edinburgh.”
“Oh I was frightened, though maybe more angry. When I found out Greyfriar was really a vampire, it was…devastating. Of course, I didn't truly know Gareth then. If you shed your Greyfriar guise, I would marry you, bear or not.”
Greyfriar's finger froze on her forearm, and he looked down at her quickly. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but didn't regret her words. They were the truth.
He leaned in to kiss her, leaving the scarf in place, pressing against her with a layer of rough cloth between their lips. “For that alone, I love you. The skin of a bear or man makes no difference to you.”
Adele deepened the kiss. “I will never stop believing there is a future for us.”
“I love that too about you.”
“Something you won't love is that I have to return to the real world. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Some things cannot be denied.”
Adele moved away with a lingering touch and was collecting the books to place neatly on the front desk. When she saw Sir Godfrey's anatomy book, she turned to Greyfriar, who was examining the librarian's desk. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Something personal.”
His blue eyes regarded her. “Ask.”
Her hand on the vampire book, she said, “What would happen if we…made love? Is it dangerous?”
“Dangerous? I would never hurt you.”
She held up her hands, red-faced. “Oh I know. That's not what I meant at all. I'm talking about the potential for…pregnancy. Can vampires and humans…” Adele gave an embarrassed sigh.
“Ah. There have been instances of humans and vampires…copulating.”
“Really?”
“Not out of affection, I assure you. The less said the better, but it has occurred. No children have ever been conceived to my knowledge.” Greyfriar pointed at Randolph's Treatise. “In here, as you must know, Dr. Randolph says vampires are a different species. We could never bear children together.”
“Never?” Adele frowned.
“Is that what you are afraid of? I have never asked about your hesitation with our relationship because your reasons are your own. But is that the reason?”
“Yes, partly. I remember the stories you told me about vampire babies killing their mothers by feeding off them. Like Cesare killed his mother.”
“Yes, it happens. Some mothers, particularly modern ones, use human bloodnurses rather than allow their infants to feed from them. Out of fear.”
“How does that happen exactly? I thought vampires couldn't feed from another vampire.”
“Mothers are able to nourish their newborns. There is some change in the mother, but only for a few months. Then the child must switch to human blood.” Greyfriar held out his hands to show the issue was settled. “That isn't something you need to worry about.”
Adele bit her lower lip. “Pregnancy isn't my only concern. I'm afraid of what I could do to you. I'm a geomancer. There are times I don't feel in control.”
“If you haven't killed me by now, I suspect I'm safe enough. But it must always be your decision.”
“You do still want me?” Adele asked hesitantly, her mind filling with foolish fears.
He covered the space between them in seconds, standing over her, his cobalt eyes intensifying. “Yes, but I won't let my desire push you into something you do not want. You have enough people trying to force their will on you. I know you are not a woman easily pushed. We are both standing on a dangerous precipice, and caution is a wise watchword.”
Unexpectedly, Greyfriar tore the scarf from his face, pulled her close, and kissed her.
She went limp in his arms, pressing
against him. Command radiated from his body, but his grip was as delicate as if he held a glass figurine in his steady hands. She never tired of being in his sway. It was like being held by steel and silk all at the same time.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For the library.”
“You're welcome,” she returned softly. That he was so moved by this small gesture caught her breath in her throat. She held him in an embrace a moment longer, almost afraid to let go.
Greyfriar glanced longingly at the stack of books.
“Would you like to stay longer?” Adele asked.
“No. You no doubt have pressing matters. And we'll see each other tomorrow night for the opera.” He patted the cover of the fairy tale tome. “It's just been a long time since I felt closer to Greyfriar than Gareth.”
“We can come back whenever you like.”
He turned from the table and took her arm. Together, they started up the aisle sweeping between long curving tables with their great stores of books. His cloak furled out behind them. Greyfriar's light steps made no sound and Adele's footsteps echoed loudly off the tile floor as they leaned on one another.
“G RENOBLE HAS FALLEN to the humans,” Lady Hallow announced to the figure that stood beside the throne. Her words echoed in the huge chamber, and settled unpleasantly to the filthy floor.
Cesare grasped the back of the empty throne and spat angrily, “On the eve of my coronation? Is our war strategy ruined now?”
Hallow drifted to one side to ensure the question struck fully on Flay, who stood in the shadows behind her. The war chief snarled in her throat.
“All was going as planned,” Flay said quickly. “We of course had no control over the situation at Grenoble, as that clan had refused your advances. However, I had the Equatorians pinned down at St. Etienne, unable to advance or safely withdraw. I asked Lady Hallow for additional packs, with which I could have broken the humans' backs. Those packs did not materialize.”
Lady Hallow ignored the accusations and added with a sarcastic tone, “The refugees from Grenoble say the Equatorians unleashed a weapon of unspeakable power.”
“Nonsense,” Cesare scoffed. “The man who builds all of Equatoria's weapons is my creature. They have nothing we don't know about.”
“It was the princess,” Flay said.
Hallow sighed loudly and strolled farther to the side.
Cesare stepped down from the dais, his attention riveted on Flay. “The princess? You mean Empress Adele?”
“Yes, my lord.” The war chief came closer. The subject of Adele was something that she and Cesare shared; Hallow had no part in that history. “She was the weapon that killed the Grenoble clan.”
Hallow said, “My lord, I don't believe such a ludicrous—”
“Stryon!” Cesare called, and his bailiff peered into the room. “Bring my witchfinder. Bring him. Now!”
Flay smiled.
Dr. Goronwy was virtually thrust into Cesare's conference chamber. The human's white hair and beard were uncharacteristically ill-kempt. He wore a long robe thrown over his ankle-length nightshirt, and had lost a slipper somewhere in the long damp trek from Bethlem on the south side of the Thames.
Members of the Pale, Cesare's personal militia, filtered into the room, having dragged the human to Buckingham Palace. Flay was relieved by their presence since she was their commander, and they tilted the atmosphere from political to military.
Goronwy blinked in the deep gloom relieved only by faint moonlight filtering through great windows. “This all seems quite urgent.”
“I am told,” Cesare said slowly, “that the Equatorian empress killed every vampire in Grenoble. Over ten thousand. By herself. Is that possible?”
“My, my,” Goronwy muttered in his thick Welsh accent, “that is news that would startle you, isn't it? Could we possibly find a candle or something? It's so dark I can hardly think straight.”
“Answer the question,” Cesare snarled.
“Well, the answer is I don't know. As an academic, I'm bound to lean on facts, and not opinion. If I still had my Equatorian colleague, Dr. Selkirk, with whom to consult, I might be able to formulate a better answer.”
“You had him for a month. What did you learn from him?”
“Most of it I've told you already,” Goronwy began, settling into his role as professor. “Dr. Selkirk believed that the princess has some unique skills to understand certain natural phenomena…phenomena described by the science of geomancy. The study of the Earth. It is poorly understood, but seems linked to human proclivities to establish meaningful connections to the natural world through science or meditation or prayer. In the old days, when humans would pray, at least some humans, it created effluences that repelled your kind.”
“Just answer the question!” Flay shouted.
Dr. Goronwy reared back in offense at Flay's outburst. Then he adjusted his dressing gown. “Yes. If what Dr. Selkirk believed is true. I have studied his notes, and the books you have provided to me from various Alexandrian authorities. Theoretically, it is possible. But, to me, it seems quite far-fetched that she could actually manage such energies.”
Cesare growled and began to stalk the room. Hallow slid away from him. Flay watched her prince tread through streams of moonlight, muttering angrily to himself. Then, in midstride, he broke off and walked up to Goronwy, staring directly at the man.
“Witchfinder, can you do anything to stop the empress?”
“Stop her?” Goronwy asked uncomfortably. He obviously wanted to back away from Cesare, but that would prove he was being threatened rather than simply consulted. “She's merely human. You could kill her.”
A clawed hand raked Goronwy and drew blood. “Don't toy with me.”
The wide-eyed witchfinder pressed his palm against his bleeding cheek. “Oh! You mean her geomancy. I don't know. I suppose there might be a way to counteract her abilities.”
“Find it.”
“It's a very complicated scientific matter, my lord. Pure research can't simply be converted into a practical tool just like that. If I might just explain the place of research in most modern nation-states, there may be years between fundamental discoveries and practical applications, if any.”
“If I might explain the place of research in my state—do it or I'll kill you.” Cesare stared evenly at the Welshman. “And if you say another word besides Yes, my lord, I will slice you open and leave you to bleed to death on this floor while the clan feeds off you.”
Goronwy glanced from Cesare to Flay. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good,” the vampire prince said, stepping away from the man. “You have until my coronation to understand what the Equatorian empress is doing, and give me something to stop her.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Cesare turned to Flay, who stiffened expectantly. “Flay, return to Lyon and block the humans from advancing further.”
Flay bowed. “Then I should expect new packs?”
“You'll use what I give you!” Cesare yelled violently, his fists quivering in the air. “Keep the humans trapped in the Rhone Valley no matter what it takes. You will do what I tell you. I am your king! Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord.” Flay could almost see a smug grin even on Hallow's blank face. “I will always obey my king.”
The war chief watched her prince and his advisor pass her as they walked together out of the room into the corridor, joined in significant conversation, much like Flay used to do with Cesare. She stood in the empty chamber listening to the wail of wind through broken glass.
“T HE OPERA IS in Italian,” Adele said over the sound of the clattering carriage. “But I can explain it to you.”
“Capisco l'italiano,” Gareth replied.
“Okay.” She stared evenly at him in the dim light. “How many languages do you speak anyway?”
He thought. “I'm not sure. Twenty? It depends on what you consider a language. In the north, dialects vary greatly from region to regio
n, even from village to village in some areas. My Italian is northern. But even usage in Savoy can be very different from Lombardy. I've never been south of Milan. Very few vampires have. Have you ever been to Rome?”
“Yes. Several times.” Adele was suddenly less than satisfied with her languages—English, Persian, Arabic, Swahili, and French, as well as some familiarity in several northern tongues such as Italian and German, and snippets of a few extinct sacred languages. She was facile with languages, or so she had thought until she witnessed Gareth. He had picked up very nuanced Arabic from a single boat ride up the Nile. His absorption of human languages was remarkable, and typical of his kind. However, she did have one untold secret tongue, a singular ability to rival his own.
Gareth was in the midst of asking a question. “Does Rome…”
“Ask your question in your own language.”
“My language?” He looked at her with suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“Your vampiric language.”
He smiled slightly and nodded. “Ah. I wasn't even sure your people knew we had a language.”
“Most of us don't. We tend to think you just hiss, like cats. But some of us know differently. So ask your question.”
Gareth laughed and then growled deep in his throat and almost spit as he pulled and pushed sibilant air over his palate. Still, his hands gestured conversationally, as if he was chatting over dinner.
“No,” Adele said. “Rome is not part of the Empire. In fact, none of the Italian states are, nor do they care to participate in the war. Yet.”
Gareth's eyes widened in shock, and his mouth hung open. “You understood me.”
She grinned in acknowledgment.
He asked, “How long have you understood our language?”
“Since I heard it spoken in France, when Ptolemy was downed. I'm never sure I'm understanding it properly, but I get a sense of what is being said. Of course, if several of you are talking at the same time or there is too much distraction, I can't follow it.”
Gareth pursed his lips in thought. “I hope I never said anything untoward within earshot.”
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