He lifted the other eyebrow. “Are you speaking to me, Ysolde?”

She winced at the little flicker of power he added to her name, and cleared her throat, but instead of backing down, tilted up her chin and challenged him with her gaze.

He sighed. “I greet all new dragons, and welcome them to the dragonkin. I have ever done so, and I will continue to do so.”

“That’s a thoughtful thing for you to do,” said May, her voice soft and light as the wind. “But you look angry about something. You can’t be mad at Ava.”

“Child of shadows,” he said, acknowledging May, mate of the silver wyvern. He had a fondness for her, too, since she had once formed the dragon heart from the shards given to each sept. “I am not angry at the babe. I simply do not like explaining my actions.”

“You sure it’s not something else?” Ysolde asked, tipping her head to the side while her gaze swept over him. “I’m thinking that you’re not quite so happy as you claimed you were last time.”

“Last time?” Aisling asked from where she’d been cleaning and diapering the baby. She looked confused. “What last time? The one in Egypt?”

“No.” Ysolde gave him a long look, but he did not answer it. “He’s been coming to see Anduin a lot. Well, twice. And then I caught him once with Brom, trying to convince him that he should be a dragon. And then Baltic said he saw him once, when we were out shopping. I think ...” Ysolde hesitated for a moment, her eyes softening on him. He smiled to himself. She had the tenderest of hearts of all his children, despite her definite lack of respect. “I think he’s bored, and needs a girlfriend. Or better yet, a mate.”

There was a collective gasp from the other two mates. He thought about rolling his eyes, but decided it wasn’t an action of a demigod, and so maintained his usual placid expression. It had always stood him well when dealing with his sometimes fractious children, especially the volatile firstborn, those five dragons who had been born of his mates and gone on to found the existing septs.

“A mate!” Aisling said, coming forward with the baby in her arms, her eyes bright with excitement. “Of course! It can’t be fun being all by yourself, and Ysolde said that Baltic’s mom was one of your mates. ... Er ... how many have you had? Or is that a rude question to ask?”

He gave another little sigh, but no one heard it. “Some might say to address me in such a manner is rude in itself, but I will answer your question because I know that if I do not, Ysolde will continue to ask it.”

Ysolde smiled, and the other women clustered around him. “You know me so well. Go on. What’s the number? I’m guessing it’s in the triple digits.”

He allowed his lips to thin a little at her to indicate he was not pleased with such flippancy. “I have had two mates: the first was a minor goddess who bore me four children, the founders of the red, black, blue, and green dragon septs. Later, I took a dragon, Maerwyn, as a mate, and she bore Baltic and a child who did not survive the birth.”

“A dragon?” Aisling asked, then wrinkled her nose. “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful and all, but isn’t that ... well ... incestuous?”

“She was six generations beyond my child,” he told her, sadness leaching into his awareness. He had truly loved Maerwyn, which is why he’d taken her as mate. Her death left him bereft for centuries, during which time he had withdrawn from his dragons, withdrawn from everything.

May instinctively moved closer, and put out a tentative hand to touch the sleeve of his shirt. “Ysolde told us how Baltic’s mother died. That was terrible.”

He inclined his head in both agreement and acknowledgment of the sympathy she silently offered.

“That was, what, four hundred years ago?” Ysolde took his arm in hers. “It’s time you moved on. And I mean that in the nicest sense. Just because you’re a demigod doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. Now, as it happens, this is the ideal time for you to be here, because as we mentioned, Aisling and Drake are throwing this party for Ava, and there’s going to be a band playing tonight, and a sárkány tomorrow, and a bouncy castle in the side garden for the kids—which you probably won’t want to be a part of, because they’re loud little buggers—and basically all the dragons in Europe and a lot from other parts will be here, so you will have all the single ladies to look over.”

“Yes, and we were going to have our Mates Union meeting now while the boys are downstairs guzzling dragon’s blood wine, and the kids are out romping in the wading pool, but we’ll just put the meeting on hold in order to take care of your business.” Aisling put the now-stenchless baby back in her crib, and turned on a mobile bearing little dragons and jousting knights.

“What an excellent idea,” May said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Would you take this seat, Mr. ... er ... First Dragon.” Aisling pushed forward a rocking chair, and seated herself next to Ysolde on a pink striped love seat.

“Hey, Ash, the kids went through the chips in record time and want to know when lunch is going down—holy shitsnacks! It’s the First Dragon!”

The First Dragon, who had been contemplating the chair that Aisling had offered him, turned to eye the large black Newfoundland dog who marched into the room. “Ah,” he said, noting several things about the dog, mostly the fact that it was not really a dog. “A demon. I had not realized the green dragons were in a state to require the assistance of a demon.”

“Jim lives here,” Aisling said, waving the dog to her feet. “It’s mine, actually. I’m a demon lord, but I just have the one demon, and it doesn’t do anything for us.”

“Hey, now!” Jim protested, reluctantly marching over to its master, but pausing long enough to snuffle the First Dragon’s shoes. “I do all sorts of stuff, not the least of which is entertain your spawn by giving them rides. And we gotta talk about that real soon, ’cause it’s undignified, and if the other demons heard I was doing it, they’d give me no end of grief.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Aisling said with a warning glance at her demon.

The dog took a few whiffs of the First Dragon’s trouser legs. “Hiya. Name’s Effrijim, but everyone calls me Jim. Is it true you can make peeps into dragons? Not that I want to be one, because there ain’t nothin’ better than being a demon in Newfie form, but just in case someday Aisling completely loses her mind and starts acting like a real demon lord, it would be nice to know there are other options.”