I tried to catch her eye, but she was clearly enjoying herself too much to allow me to rain on her parade by appealing to her reason . . . what remained of it.

‘‘Gabriel is correct,’’ Drake said slowly. ‘‘A sárkány is called for a specific matter of business, and was done so in the correct fashion by Bastian in order to receive official recognition of his right to the title of wyvern. If you wish for the weyr to consider the matter of the black dragons, you must proceed via proper channels, Kostya.’’

‘‘This is a foolish waste of time. He was named by Baltic to be his successor; thus, he is wyvern. I move for the recognition of Kostya, and reinstatement of the black dragon sept into the weyr,’’ Bao said, snapping off each word.

‘‘I concur,’’ Fiat said quickly. ‘‘The blue dragons are officially prepared to recognize Kostya and his sept.’’

‘‘You have no right to speak for my sept,’’ Bastian said quickly, a little wisp of smoke escaping him.

‘‘And you have no right to address an issue that did not call the sárkány,’’ Gabriel told Bao.

She bared her teeth at him in what I assumed was meant to be a smile. Covertly, I reached for the dagger I keep strapped to my ankle, my fingers curling around the reassuringly solid length of its handle.

‘‘These rules are antiquated. Why should we not deal with all weyr business at once?’’ she countered.

‘‘It is not the way of the sárkány,’’ said Gabriel, turning a fearsome glare upon the two blue dragons. ‘‘The sooner we attend to the matter at hand, the sooner we can all leave. Shall we get started?’’

‘‘It was your mate we were all forced to wait upon,’’ Fiat snapped. ‘‘Clearly, you fear the arrival of Kostya and his sept and are doing your best to keep them from the weyr, but the rest of us have no such problem. Let us deal with the matter here and now, once and for all while we are all gathered.’’

‘‘I vote yes on Kostya,’’ Cyrene said, making herself more comfortable on his lap.

Kostya looked like he was thinking about dropping her onto the floor, but at a raised eyebrow from me, he stopped fidgeting.

Gabriel, however, was as tense as a snake about to strike. I gave his knee a little squeeze to remind him that fighting with Fiat would serve no good purpose, no matter how much he deserved to be punched in the face.

‘‘He is too afraid of what might happen should the black dragons be recognized,’’ Kostya sneered, his expression as dark as night. ‘‘He knows the silver dragons should never have been recognized in their own right.’’

‘‘You know, I think I have to agree with Kostya on this,’’ Cyrene started to say, but I had had enough.

‘‘I realize that I’m new to the position of wyvern’s mate, and I’m probably speaking out of turn,’’ I said, standing to gain a slight height advantage over everyone sitting, ‘‘but I’ve just about had enough of this crap. What part of no do you not understand, Kostya?’’

Kostya looked startled, both at the fact that I was addressing him in such a discourteous manner, and at the fact that I held a wickedly sharp dagger.

‘‘Mayling!’’ Cyrene said, outraged. ‘‘How dare you threaten my boyfriend!’’

‘‘For the love of the twelve gods, will you stop it,’’ I ground out through my teeth. ‘‘You are here merely as a courtesy—both of you—and I for one would appreciate it if you’d let Gabriel and the others get to the business they came to deal with.’’

Kostya puffed up like he was going to snap out a reply but said nothing, contenting himself with a glare that could have cut steel.

I sat down, sliding Gabriel a worried glance. I had a feeling that I’d greatly overstepped the bounds of what was proper behavior in a mate, but I didn’t care. We’d be here all day if Kostya and Fiat were allowed to carry on.

Gabriel’s face was impassive, but I saw amusement in his eyes, and he took my hand for a moment to give my fingers a reassuring squeeze.

‘‘It would seem your mate is going to act as referee for this sárkány,’’ Drake said dryly.

‘‘Such behavior is not proper—’’ Fiat started to say, but Gabriel cut him off with a sharp, ‘‘Shut the hell up, Fiat. Let’s get this done. Bastian, you called the sárkány; present your case.’’

Behind us, I heard Maata muffle a snicker. I straightened my shoulders and prepared to keep my mouth shut while Gabriel dealt with the weyr business. Four hours later, I was sagging in my chair, wanting nothing more than to sink into a hot tub and soak away the tedium. Bastian evidently had used his time well while I had been in Abaddon, for he presented a thoroughly documented case against Fiat, bringing forth not only sept documents and affidavits, but witness after witness who attested to the fact that it was he and not his nephew who was to have been made wyvern.

Fiat shouted, swore, argued, and threatened the entire time, but in the end, justice was upheld.

‘‘The weyr recognizes Bastiano Giardini Blu as rightful wyvern of the blue dragon sept,’’ Gabriel pronounced. He, too, looked a bit worse for the wear, the strain of having to keep everyone in line starting to show in grim lines around his mouth and eyes.

Bastian smiled and thanked the wyverns present. I was a bit surprised that Bao didn’t fight the decision since she had seemed to favor Fiat, but after only a token protest, she agreed to go along with the majority and declared that the red dragons would recognize Bastian.

‘‘It is not important,’’ she had shrugged, and voted with the rest of the wyverns.

‘‘This is not ended,’’ Fiat shouted, jumping to his feet just as I knew he would. Half the room rose with him, his supporters glaring across the aisle at the blue dragons who were under Bastian’s banner. ‘‘I do not accept this ruling! Bastian is incapable of ruling the blue dragons! You will rue the day you allowed him to take power!’’

‘‘Clearly the concept of gracious defeat has escaped him,’’ Cyrene told Kostya in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear.

Fiat certainly heard, for he snarled something rude at her before he leaped onto the table and glared at Bastian. ‘‘Do not believe you have won, old man. You may hold the day, but I will win the battle!’’