Chapter TwoWhen the waiter came to the table, Drogo ordered coffee and then hesitated.
“What wine do you have?” he asked slowly, feeling for the right Kozanian words.
The waiter understood, but said a name that was incomprehensible.
“Ask for the wine from the Bela Valley,” Thekla suggested. “It is what my father always drinks.”
She spoke in English and, as Drogo was unable to translate it into Kozanian, she did it for him.
As the waiter went off to fetch their order, Drogo said,
“May I congratulate you on your fluency in two languages and your English is perfect!”
Thekla smiled.
“My mother was English.”
“Then that accounts for it,” Drogo said. “Can you also speak Russian?”
He spoke lightly, but to his surprise a shadow came over her face.
Her eyes, which he now realised in the l
