The Kingmakers(57)
“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.”
Adele laughed loudly. “No. I don't recall anything insulting. In fact, you hardly ever speak vampire.” She reached out to him. “I'm sorry for keeping the secret so long.”
“On the contrary, you shouldn't have told me now. We're still leaders of rival houses. Don't give away all of your secrets to me.”
She grew serious, and her face clouded. “But we're together. We shouldn't keep secrets from one another.”
Gareth considered her words in thoughtful silence.
“Why?” she pressed. “Do you have secrets you're keeping from me?”
“No. But you're different. You must protect yourself from any eventuality. I don't matter.”
She eyed him with mock suspicion, trying to play it off as a joke, but even so, some of the hurt was real. “I'm not sure I can believe you. Perhaps you're lying to me now to cover your secrets.”
“Perhaps, but I'm not.” Then he blurted, “No, I do have one last secret. My true name.”
“Gareth isn't even your name?”
“It is. But my kind are born with a name in our language. We don't use it; it's secret. We believe that knowing someone's true name gives you power over them. At least, that's the tradition; it's largely forgotten now.”
Adele sat quietly watching the reflection of her diamond tiara sparkling from its place atop her rigidly ordered curls. She tapped her fan against her knee.
His brow wrinkled in question. “Shall I tell you?”
“No,” she answered.
“I will happily tell you.”
“No, don't.”
“Why?” Shadows flashed across his angular face as light from passing streetlamps slipped through the edges of drawn shades.
“I don't ever want to know the last mystery about you,” she replied softly.
“As you wish.” Greyfriar smiled and laid a steady hand over her nervous fan. “At least you'll know that the power you have over me has nothing to do with my name.”
The muffled din of cheering from outside increased, and the clomping of the mounted columns of White Guard around the carriage grew louder. A colored card showed on the wall, triggered by the footman riding outside to indicate they were nearing the opera house. Adele searched her small clutch for a mirror and checked her make-up. “How do I look?”
“Magnificent.”
“Thank you.” She smoothed the lap of her gown. “I used to hate dressing up. And I wouldn't want to do it every day, but I quite enjoy it now. Maybe because I have someone to do it for.” She glanced up at him.
“It suits you. You carry yourself like an empress. And you do attract my attention, though vampires are always drawn to high fashion naturally.”
His deep laugh calmed any last nerves as the carriage rocked to a stop. There was a whistle at Adele's side and she picked up a small speaking tube. The footman's voice came from outside, “Are you prepared, Your Majesty?”