I blocked out the noise of fighting dragons (growing ever closer), and thought about the ceremony, thought about what it was I wanted to tell the shard.

“I’m not going to miss you trying to get me into dragon form all the time,” I said hesitantly, feeling silly talking to it, but not knowing what else to do, “but I do appreciate you giving me an understanding of what it is to be a dragon. I will forever hold that in my heart, just as I hold Gabriel there. I resented you at first because I felt you were trying to take me over and make me into a dragon.”

I could hear Gabriel’s voice now, hear Kostya’s battle cry, hear Kostich chant as he cast arcane spells intended to slow down or destroy the dragons. They were close, almost to this floor. I ordered my brain to come up with some nice things to say to the shard. “I will miss having the experience of shape-shifting. I will miss the scarlet claws. I will miss the dragon chases that Gabriel and I had, and I will definitely miss knocking Magoth out cold with one swipe of my tail.”

The shard was paying attention—I could feel that—but still, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t want honeyed words. It wanted what was in my heart.

“I didn’t want to be a dragon. I wanted to be myself. But now I know that I am a dragon—if not in physical being, then in heart. I am May Northcott, wyvern’s mate and doppelganger, a dragon of the silver sept, and I thank you for making me such.”

Beneath my fingers, the phylacteries grew hot, the shard inside me suddenly burning with a searing heat that I knew was the first dragon’s fire. It burst out of me in a blaze of fire that glowed so bright it momentarily blinded me.

I stared openmouthed in wonder as the shards gathered together before my face, hanging in midair, slowly twisting themselves into an intricately spun circle of fire. Behind it, the air gathered, and a vision coalesced, that of a dragon’s head, slowly turning to regard me with eyes that reflected the ages. It was a white dragon, but not white—it held all the colors of the spectrum, light shimmering along its skin like a million fireflies. The dragon head shifted, changed into that of a man, and for a moment, for the infinitesimally small time between heartbeats, I was judged by the first dragon.

The heart, the spinning fire that made up the heart, suddenly burst into a glorious nova of light that made my soul sing with joy. It was a thousand times stronger than the feeling the quintessence gave me, a trillion times stronger, and in the time it took to burst, I felt the heart of every dragon in the world suddenly lighten and sing with mine.

I was judged and found worthy. The heart re-formed, then exploded with a song that sang to the heavens. I sank back onto my heels as the light from the now-shattered heart faded; I was moved so profoundly I couldn’t begin to sort through the emotions.

The shard was gone. It lay before me glowing softly in its crystal case, alongside four other cases. I smiled when I saw it, touching the newly filled phylactery with reverent fingers. Gabriel and I had argued over what to put on the phylactery for my shard. He claimed that it now belonged to the silver dragons, since I possessed it, but I insisted that it be left unmarked, thinking we would work out later to whom it really belonged.

“Smart shard,” I said, smiling as my fingers stroked over the gold symbol of the silver dragons that now bound the phylactery. “We will see that you are well taken care of.”

The door behind me flung open. Gabriel threw himself across the doorway, once again in human form, turning his back to me as he fought like a madman to keep Baltic out of the room.

Baltic grabbed him by the neck and yanked him forward, spinning to fling him down the hall. He turned back to me, panting heavily, blood streaming from several wounds on his arms and torso, his eyes lit with an unholy light.

“Mate,” he snarled.

“True enough, but I will never be yours,” I answered, scooping up the phylacteries and dumping them back into the strongbox.

“I felt something. What have you done?”

“Nothing you can change.”

He snarled at me. “You think not?”

I shoved the strongbox behind me, and pulled out my dagger as he reached for me. “What you felt was the dragon heart being re-formed and resharded. I saw the first dragon, Baltic. I saw him, and I know.”

He froze, confusion in his eyes. “You . . . know?”

“I saw him. You won’t have the dragon heart now. It’s been sharded again.”

Gabriel reached him just as he threw back his head and roared his anger. Eyes as bright as the full moon, Gabriel jumped onto Baltic, twisting his body as he did so, using the momentum to pull Baltic from the room, back out into the hallway, yelling over his shoulder, “Fly, little bird!”

I fled into the shadow world, taking the box of phylacteries with me, slipping past where he and Kostya battled Baltic, once again in dragon form. Baltic must have sensed me passing him, for he suddenly spun around and charged toward me. Gabriel yelled and threw himself on the dragon’s back, shifting as he did so. He brought Baltic to the ground, their sleek dragon bodies twisted together as they fell. I paused at the top of the stairs, not wanting to leave Gabriel, but knowing I should get the phylacteries to safety.

Kostya shifted to human form, yelling at Gabriel, “He is mine!”

Savian staggered up the stairs, one arm hanging limp, his usable hand still clutching his piece of wood. “Took care of that redheaded she-wolf. Just the one dragon left? Good,” he said, then keeled over on the floor.

“Must I do this again?” Kostya bellowed, raising his sword over his head. “How many times must I kill you before you stay dead?”

“Gabriel!” I yelled, coming out of the shadow world.

“May, go!” Gabriel shifted at the last second and leaped out of the way of Kostya’s downswing. The sword flashed in the air as it passed through the spot that a nanosecond before was occupied by Baltic, and embedded itself deeply into the floor.

Chapter Twenty

“Where’s Baltic?” Aisling asked, her face red and shiny with sweat. “What’s happen—oh, god, not another one!”

I waited until her contraction was over before handing the lockbox containing the phylacteries to Drake, who rose when I entered the small inner room that was part of his lair. I tried to keep from looking around, knowing how touchy dragons were about having their treasures regarded by other dragons, but I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows at a couple of familiar-looking paintings hanging on the wall. I wondered if the appropriate museums knew they had forgeries as I eyed the gold items, chalices and aquamaniles, as well as numerous other treasures, all glinting warmly, making my skin feel sensitive and hot.