“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.