“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked as it headed back toward Aisling’s room.

“Gonna go warn Ash. She’s going to hit the roof, and I want to be there to see the fireworks.”

“Effrijim—” I started to say.

“Oh, man!” it whined, slumping to a halt. “Not you, too?”

“By the powers vested in me by your true overlord, I hereby charge, demand, and otherwise order you to leave Aisling alone unless she expressly desires your company, or if her life is in danger.”

Jim hesitated at the door.

“A visit from her mother-in-law does not constitute a threat to her life,” I warned, knowing exactly what it was thinking.

It raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know Catalina very well, do you?”

“Come on,” I said, gesturing toward the stairs. “Let’s go wait for Kostya to arrive. I’m sure, given his temper, there will be fireworks aplenty when he sees Gabriel and me.”

“There’d better be! That’s all I’m sayin’!”

In that belief, I was wrong, and evidently I had my twin to thank.

“Mayling!” Cyrene squealed when Jim and I arrived in the hall after spending an hour paddling around Drake’s basement pool. Since the silver dragons weren’t overly fond of water, it not being their element, they tended to view things such as showers as merely unpleasant experiences to be endured as quickly as possible. Although Gabriel’s house in Manukua had a pool, it was more or less for visitors, which made it difficult to find time for a pleasure swim. As Jim and I padded up the stairs from the pool, Cyrene spotted us and rushed across the hall, where Kostya was being greeted by his mother, with Gabriel and Drake in a wing formation behind her.

“You’ve been swimming?” Cyrene’s pupils dilated slightly, as was common whenever water was mentioned in her presence. As a water elemental, she had an affinity for freshwater sources such as springs and lakes, but she loved any form of water, and was known to take hour-long baths. “Drake has a pool?”

“Yes, but it’s not polite to arrive at someone’s house and demand to go swimming,” I said, grabbing her as she started past me toward the stairs to the basement. “You should at least say hello to Aisling.”

“Drake said she’s resting and will be down later,” Cyrene said, pouting just a bit before turning a smile on me. “You look happy. Has Magoth stopped hitting on you?”

“Oh, like that could happen,” Jim said, snuffling Cyrene’s hand until she fondled its ears and scratched its neck. “The day he stops hitting on babes is the day I give up being a demon and go back to spriting. Oh yeah, baby, right there. Urng.”

Jim’s eyes rolled up a bit as Cyrene’s long fingernails found a particularly itchy spot.

“Have you ever known Magoth to not have sex on his mind?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Cyrene surprised me, nodding. “But only when he’s torturing someone. And even then . . . well, we won’t go into that. At least he hasn’t been granted his powers.”

“No,” I said slowly. “And that actually worries me. I would have thought that as soon as Bael tossed him out of Abaddon, he would have given Magoth back his powers in order to unleash him on the mortal world. But he hasn’t done anything, yet. Magoth has petitioned him to be reinstated, but Bael hasn’t even responded to that except to say it’s under consideration.”

“Well, you have bigger things to worry about than that,” Cyrene said with blithe indifference to the idea of a demon lord being free to run amok among the mortals. “Kostya needs our help.”

My gaze moved from her to the man in question. Although Kostya was Drake’s older brother, a weird quirk of genetics had left the two men wyverns of different septs . . . or it would have, if Kostya was recognized by the weyr as such. “What does he need help with now? I thought he had the requisite number of black dragons to formally apply for recognition? Isn’t that what the meeting is all about?”

“It is, but not everyone supports sweet, adorable Kostya.” Her eyes narrowed into little sapphire slits as she looked at Gabriel.

“Sweet, adorable Kostya has tried to kill Gabriel more than once and, until the last month, has been hell-bent on destroying the silver dragons by forcing them to join his sept, so you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a bit jaded,” I pointed out.

Cyrene waved away the survival of the silver dragons as trivial. “Oh, that’s all in the past. He’s been the model of dragonhood since you came back from Abaddon.”

“That, I’m afraid, has less to do with the fact that he’s seen reason, and more because he realized he is going to need friends should Baltic take it into his head to reclaim his sept.”

“That is not Baltic,” Kostya said loudly, interrupting his mother. I had forgotten for a moment how good dragons’ hearing was.

“Hello, Kostya,” I said politely, summoning up a brief smile.

To my surprise, he bowed. The dragons, I’d found, habitually used what I thought of as old-world manners, including being able to make bows that, on them, escaped looking silly and just looked elegant and courtly. Even Gabriel, whose manners were more open and casual than the other wyverns’, could summon up a really world-class bow when he felt the need. I wondered for a moment if it was something genetic in dragons. “I beg your pardon. I am remiss in greeting you in my haste to speak with my mother. You look well, May.”

I wanted to goggle at his change in attitude.

“Thank you,” I said, a little stunned. By this point, I expected Kostya to be screaming for vengeance, or ranting about the past as he was wont to do.

“I trust the shard is not giving you any grief?” he inquired politely.

My eyes widened as I glanced toward Gabriel. He grinned at me and winked.

“Er . . . not unduly so, no. Thank you for asking.” I was prompted by the knowledge that formalities must be preserved even in informal situations to add, “You are well?”

“I am,” he said, inclining his head. “Cyrene and I took a little trip to my homeland. It is most pleasant at this time of year.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, finding the whole conversation too bizarre to let pass without comment. “Are you chitchat-ting with me?”