‘‘Go get us tickets to Rome,’’ I said after we turned in the car to the rental agency.

She glared at me. ‘‘That’s all you’re going to say? Just go get tickets? May, I shouldn’t have to prove myself to Neptune—’’

‘‘You’re the one who messed up,’’ I interrupted her, pulling out my cell phone. ‘‘Now you have to pay the price. So stop complaining and go get us tickets so we can see just how badly damaged the spring is, and then make some plans to clear things up so I can get back to figuring out how I’m going to spring a wyvern from Abaddon.’’

‘‘Bah,’’ she snorted, but went off to find out how quickly we could get to Rome.

‘‘Do you need help?’’ Gabriel asked after I explained the situation to him. His voice was as delicious as ever, even after getting beamed all around the place by assorted satellites. Just the sound of it nestled so close to my ear sent little goose bumps of pleasure up and down my arms.

‘‘No, I think we’ll be OK. If we can’t get a flight, we’ll get to Lisbon and use the portal place there, although I heard it’s a bit dicey. But I expect we’ll find a flight. It means, however, that I won’t be back in Paris until tomorrow.’’

‘‘One moment,’’ he said, and I heard muffled voices in the background. A minute later he was back. ‘‘Maata will meet you in Rome. She can take a portal from here.’’

I know how little dragons liked to portal—it had something to do with the tenuous quality of portals, since objects were frequently lost during transit—but it wasn’t for that reason alone that I objected. ‘‘You’re not pulling a Drake on me, are you?’’ I asked.

‘‘A Drake?’’

‘‘Aisling says she can’t step foot out of the house without one of Drake’s bodyguards accompanying her. You haven’t suddenly gone into overprotective mode, have you?’’ I asked, smiling despite myself. ‘‘Because if you have, let me disabuse you right now of the notion that I need protection. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.’’

‘‘I have no doubt of that whatsoever, little bird,’’ he answered, amusement rich in his voice. ‘‘Although I do have to admit that I understand more now what drives Drake into protecting his mate. But it is not a question of you being able to protect yourself. Maata is fluent in Italian, and since you said that neither you nor your twin speaks it well, I thought she might be able to help.’’

I bit back the response that it wouldn’t take much linguistic power to eyeball a spring, saying simply, ‘‘That seems like a lot of trouble to go to on Maata’s part, but if she wants a little break from her regular bodyguard duties to hang out with us in Italy, we’d be delighted to have her. Oh, hang on, here’s Cy with the tickets.’’

‘‘I just hope you know what you’re doing,’’ she said, a little pout ruining her normally sunny expression. ‘‘This is the best I could get.’’

I glanced at the flight information and passed it along to Gabriel.

‘‘I would come to help you myself, but I have a meeting with Bastian scheduled. Drake believes he will be wholly agreeable to giving us access to the blue shard, but I don’t wish to take anything for granted.’’

‘‘And you thought it was for your handsome looks and that satin voice I agreed to be your mate,’’ I said, ‘‘when all along it was your brains.’’

‘‘Indeed,’’ he said, and I frowned. It wasn’t like him not to respond to a flirtatious comment.

‘‘Is everything all right there?’’ I asked. ‘‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’’

‘‘I would not keep things from you, mate,’’ he said with more formality than was the norm. ‘‘I hope your trip goes well, and that you’ll be able to return soon to your guest.’’

‘‘My guest?’’ I asked, worry starting to build inside me. ‘‘What guest?’’

‘‘She wishes to have a word with you. Maata will meet you at the airport. Be careful, May. The sea is not necessarily calm in that area of the world.’’

His metaphor didn’t escape me any more than did the true reason he wanted a bodyguard along while we visited land that was traditionally held by the now-ousted Fiat. But the identity of my so-called guest was a mystery to me . . . at least until a familiar happy voice chirped in my ear.

‘‘Sugar! You didn’t tell me what a delicious hunk of burning love you had hidden away. He’s just too, too yummy, even if he is a dragon. Since you have Magoth as well, I don’t suppose you’d mind sharing, hmm?’’

Chapter Fifteen

It took the full length of the train ride from Rome to Onano, the town in the north of Italy that was closest to Cyrene’s spring, to get the details out of Maata as to what Sally was doing at the suite Gabriel had taken for us all in a Paris hotel.

‘‘Before I tell you that, you have to answer me a question,’’ she said, laughing as we claimed our seats. Cy and I sat on one side of a table between two banks of seats, with Maata across from us.

‘‘Ooh, food! I’m famished. I’ll get us some lunch,’’ Cyrene said, catching sight of a sandwich vendor outside the train who was doing a brisk business.

‘‘You miss the train, and you won’t hear the last of it for decades,’’ I promised her.

She rolled her eyes and hurried down the aisle to the exit.

‘‘What was it you wanted to know?’’ I asked Maata, one eye on my errant twin as she pounced on the sandwich seller.

‘‘Did you threaten Sally on the phone?’’

‘‘Threaten?’’ I cleared my throat and put on the face I used with Magoth. ‘‘Why would I threaten her?’’

Maata’s smile changed into a knowing grin. ‘‘Because she ran to Gabriel and told him he was making a big mistake, that you were definitely meant to be a demon lord’s consort.’’

I relaxed back into my seat as Cyrene reboarded the train, her arms full of small sandwich packages and bottles of water. ‘‘Was that before or after she propositioned him?’’ I joked.