We are the ones who must deal with Kostya.’’

‘‘That doesn’t mean—’’

‘‘Yes, it does!’’ Gabriel interrupted, the two men now toe to toe.

Their respective bodyguards lined up behind them as the wyverns slipped into a language I didn’t understand.

‘‘What are they speaking?’’ I asked Aisling, as she hoisted herself to her feet.

‘‘Bah. Baby’s sitting right on my bladder. Hmm? Oh, that’s Zilant.’’ She smiled at my look of confusion. ‘‘I only just found out about it myself. It’s a language that all dragons were taught centuries ago, so that members of different septs could understand one another. It’s pretty much unused now that most of them speak English. Zilant had something to do with the origins of the black dragons—it’s a region in Russia, evidently, and took the name from there.’’

The two wyverns were still going at it, arguing with occasional intercessions from their bodyguards.

‘‘Are they always like that?’’ I couldn’t help but ask.

Aisling smiled at me. ‘‘Pretty much so. They’re arrogant to a man, and bossy, and they always think their way is the only way. . . .’’ She tossed a fond look toward the dark-haired green wyvern. ‘‘But they’re also absolutely unswerving in their devotion. I know this whole thing with Gabriel has probably made you feel like the rug has been pulled out from under you, but he really is a sweetie, and I doubt if you’ll have the trouble with him that I had with Drake. He was absolutely impossible when I first met him.’’

‘‘I heard that!’’ the man in question said, interrupting his argument long enough to shoot a potent glare at Aisling.

She blew him a kiss, then excused herself and went off to the bathroom.

I started to edge my way out of the room. I made it to the stairs before Gabriel turned his head to notice I was nearly out of the room.

‘‘Mate!’’ he said, frowning.

‘‘Mate?’’ A voice came from behind me on the stairs. Cyrene stood there, her face puzzled as she glanced around the room. ‘‘You can’t mean . . . May? A mate? A dragon’s mate?’’

‘‘I thought you were tired and taking a nap,’’ I said, hurrying up to her.

‘‘I had a quick bath instead. I feel much better, although I’m confused about what’s going on here. Did that delicious Gabriel call you ‘mate’?’’

I opened my mouth to explain, but found it hard to put things in a manner that sounded like anything but mindless babble. ‘‘Er . . .’’

‘‘That is correct,’’ Gabriel said, moving over to stand next to me. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t need to—to my embarrassment, I found myself leaning toward him, as if he was a lodestone and I was a magnet. ‘‘May is my mate.’’

‘‘But she can’t be!’’ Cyrene said, shaking her head as she marched over to us.