“What do you know about that?” he asked, pulling the menu from her hands. He was exhausted and worn down by what seemed to be endless worry. “Who exactly are you?”

She straightened her shoulders. “I am Aset. Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” he said, slowly sitting down on the bed next to the old lady’s.

“You say you are nothing but a mere mortal, but you are not.” She plucked the menu from his hands and opened it. “It is clear to me that you must come on the journey as well. Your debt is due to be called in. You must pay for your sins. You must pay for the deaths of those dragons.”

His stomach tightened painfully, and his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse. “What do you know about that?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Where do thoughts come from? My knowledge is my own, but it is accurate. If you do not make this journey across the Duat with us, you will forfeit your life.”

“I’m going to lose it anyway if the dragons tell their ancestor that I’m here.” Rowan rubbed his face. “I’ve been living on borrowed time for the last twenty years.”

“The First Dragon was merciful,” she said, looking once again at him over the top of the menu. Her eyes were substantially brighter than they had been a few minutes before. “He gave you time to repay the debt, but you did not.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I had to go into hiding. If the dragons knew where I was, they’d demand that I do nothing but practice my art for their benefit, and who knows where that would end. Possibly in more deaths.”

“You are such a bad alchemist, then?”

“I am an unlearned one, and that equates to being bad, yes. I haven’t broken any magic since that horrible night.”

“The First Dragon will not be pleased,” she said, still shaking her head.

“I doubt he ever was pleased when it concerned me,” Rowan said tiredly. He tried to organize his thoughts into sensible clumps. “I wish you’d tell me how you know about my past. It’s not something that people outside of the dragon circles know about. In fact, the only people I told about my first experience in alchemy were my parents, and they are both dead.”

“The First Dragon knows,” she said coyly, and slowly raised the menu so that it blocked his view. “Do not discourage Sophea. You will need her, just as I will need you both.”

“I must have that ring,” he said, a sense of almost unbearable tiredness settling firmly around him. “I don’t wish to take it from you by force, but I will if I have to. The fate of the mortal world rests on it.”

“The fate of my happiness rests on it as well, and I have been too long without my beau,” Mrs. P countered without even flicking the menu at him. “Without my offering, all will be lost.”

“You can say that again. Look—I can get you something else of value to offer your boyfriend. Gold, if you like. Precious jewels. Hell, even stacks of money if that’s what you want. All I ask for is that you give the ring to me, and I’ll make sure you have something of tremendous value to use as your offering.”

“You owe danegeld to the First Dragon for the deaths of his descendants,” she said with what sounded like a righteous sniff. “You cannot even pay that, and yet you offer me the world?”

“I’ll deal with the danegeld later,” he said somewhat snappishly. He moderated his voice, feeling like a brute who would yell at a little old lady. “It’s not like the First Dragon is going to join us on the cruise and demand I pay it right then and there.”

“Ha!” She tossed the menu aside as Sophea emerged from the bathroom.

He wanted to ask Mrs. P what she’d meant by that, but Sophea, with a couple of lines between her brows, said slowly, “I can’t reach him. I get some weird answering service that makes reference to the owner of that voice mailbox being permanently unavailable. Why do you have voice mail if you are not ever going to get it? And why, oh why, didn’t I write down his name? I can’t even look him up online to find another phone number for him.”

He didn’t answer, and Sophea cast him a questioning look. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and cleared his throat. “I’m just a bit… frustrated.” He gave her a potent glance, hoping she would pick up on his meaning, but she simply went over to sit on the end of Mrs. P’s bed. “I think we’d all feel better with a little food. Did you pick out what you want for lunch, Rowan?”

He was tempted to answer, “You,” but caught himself in time. He wished Sophea would sit next to him, as she had in the car, where he could breathe in the sweet scent of her, one that reminded him of orange blossom honey.

She tasted just as sweet, and once again, he had to adjust the pillow in his lap to keep his thoughts from being obvious. Part of his mind was irritated that she held such power over him, while the other part was cataloging all the things about her he liked, everything from that sleek, glossy black hair to the tilt of her enticing eyes, and the way she seemed to exude warmth.

He wanted her to exude on him, again. He wanted her making shy little touches to his thigh, and pressing into him until he just wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted her mind, her unique mind thinking about him. He wanted to hear her brag how badass she was, and to make sure that nothing dinged that newfound confidence in herself.

He had no idea why he’d become so fascinated by her, but he wasn’t going to fight the attraction.

Except, of course, that he had to get her out of there. She wasn’t safe on the trip into Duat, and he wasn’t sure if he had the power to keep her from harm. Just the thought of something happening to her while they were in the Egyptian underworld left him feeling cold and clammy inside.

He had to keep her away from potential trouble. Once he had the ring, once the demons weren’t trying to get it, then he would return to her and beg her to take pity on him.

The problem was… he shook his head to himself. Sophea had warned him she wouldn’t help get the ring, not that she knew the importance of it, but instinctively, he knew that even if she had been aware of it, she’d be loath to do anything to harm Mrs. P.

Dragons were fiercely loyal beings, and even though she wasn’t a full-fledged member of that species, clearly Sophea had given Mrs. P her loyalty and would move heaven and earth to protect her. No, he said to his warring bodily desires. She had to be kept safe. And the only way to do that was to get her to go back home.