I couldn’t decide whether she was trying to be insulting or not. I decided to go with the interpretation that was less likely to get me attacked by the cast of America’s Next Top Cryptid Model. “I’d take it off if you’d give me a little time in the bathroom. I didn’t exactly have a chance to clean up after Candy hauled me out of the sewer.”

“She was fighting with servitors,” said Candy.

Betty’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure?”

“I spoke to them. They understood me, just like the stories said they would.” Candy abruptly pointed at me, as accusing as the prosecuting attorney in a murder case. “She was there. She saw it happen.”

“I saw something like that, yeah. I don’t speak dragon, so I don’t know exactly what Candy said, or how much of it they actually understood, but they stopped attacking me when she told them to play nice with the breakable children.” I leaned over, plucking the first aid kit from under Candy’s arm while she was distracted with pointing at me. “Look, I really, really want to know what’s going on. I’d also really, really like to stop bleeding. Is there a place I can sit down and slap on some bandages while you explain? Please?”

“You truly are so much like your grandmother.” Betty chuckled as she rose slowly from her pile of gold chains, sounding more like Mae West than ever. “She never had any patience either. Of course, most of the time she was impatient because your grandfather was watching my, ah, attributes when she wanted him to be watching her back, but no one ever claimed your family line was designed for patience. Sit down. My girls can take care of you.”

“Do as you’re told,” hissed Candy, glaring daggers as she shoved me toward the spot Betty had vacated. Lacking any real grounds for argument, I sat. Three of the dragon princesses who had accompanied us upstairs moved to take the first aid kit and start tending my wounds. I was tired enough to let them. If it meant I stopped bleeding, it was fine by me.

“I’m assuming Candice has explained the basic nature of servitors to you,” Betty said. “I do hope you haven’t killed too many of them—the poor dears really don’t have much control over themselves without the proper people to tell them what to do.” Seeing my expression, she clucked her tongue, giving a small shake of her head. “That’s what I was afraid of. Ah, well. It’s not like they’re a necessity, and really, they only serve to prove that you were telling the truth when you claimed there might be a male waiting somewhere in this fair city of ours. And you, my little rumpled darling, are going to find him for us.”

“Wait—what?” It was difficult to sit up straight on a mound of slippery gold jewelry with several dragon princesses aggressively cleaning and bandaging my wounds. Somehow I managed. Blame it on the shock. “A male?”

“Oh, my dear innocent poppet.” Betty smiled, Mae West turned pure predator. “Surely you didn’t think that dragons were actually extinct?”

For a moment I just stared at her, with dragon princesses smirking at me from all directions. This was it: the big secret that they’d been keeping all this time, probably since the conflicts between the humans and dragons first began. Dragon princesses didn’t exist. There were just … dragons. Big dragons and little dragons, but still dragons, regardless of whether they had scales or supermodel-quality skin. One species.

Betty smirked along with the others, clearly waiting for my expression of surprise and dismay. I settled back on the bed of gold, letting the dragon princesses around me go back to cleaning my wounds. “So what, you’re saying is this is a case of extreme sexual dimorphism combined with parthenogenetic reproduction? That’s a new one.”

The dragon princesses stared at me.

I sighed. “Trained cryptozoologist, remember? God, it’s like you put on one pair of five-inch heels and everyone forgets you have a brain. The tango is hard, people. It takes actual intelligence to do it right.”

“Regardless,” said Betty, recovering her equilibrium with admirable speed. She put a hand on her hip, taking a slinky step toward me. For a woman her age, she sure knew how to move. “You owe us, you and your family, and we don’t take kindly to debts. This is your chance to pay them off. You’re going to find us the male.”

“That was already the goal.” The dragon princesses who’d been working on bandaging my various scrapes and scratches were done, or close enough that I no longer felt like I was in danger of bleeding all over everything. I pulled away from them, tugging my shirt back into a semblance of order before I stood. “If there’s a dragon in this city—sorry, a male dragon—then I need to find him before whoever’s been sacrificing virgins in his name manages to wake him up. But since you’ve made it clear that you’ve got a pretty good reason to be interested in how this turns out, I’ll make you a deal. Tell me everything you know that might help me find him without getting eaten.”

“And what, you’ll remember us in your prayers each night? I’m sorry, but we prefer to work in more concrete coinage.” Betty waved a hand, indicating the heaps of gold cluttering the room. “Interior décor this nice doesn’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“And assuming I can find your dragon before his current keepers manage to kill him, I’ll tell you where he is, sweetheart.” I couldn’t match her level of poisonous sweetness—I didn’t have the practice—but I can be snide with the best of them. “Is that coinage concrete enough for you? I mean, sure, you can be a girl-band species forever, if that’s what floats your boat, but wouldn’t it be nice to shelve the parthenogenesis for a little while? I bet it’s more fun when there’s more than one person involved.”

Betty squared her shoulders, glaring down her nose at me. It was easy enough for her to do, since she was easily five-eight and I wasn’t wearing heels, but if it made her feel better, I wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. I looked blithely back at her, and waited.

“Fine,” she said, finally. “Candy will answer all your questions.” Candy gave her an alarmed look, and Betty repeated, “All your questions.”

“Actually, I have a question for you, if you don’t mind,” I said. “Did you really know my grandparents?”

Betty’s smirk returned, expression going back to the languid Mae West look she’d been wearing when I first entered the room. “That strikes me as a question you ought to be asking your grandfather. Don’t you agree?”