I didn’t correct his mistaken impression that I was worried about the likelihood of Magoth convincing me to destroy Gabriel—now that I’d felt the strength of the bond that connected me to Gabriel, I had little fear that Magoth’s seductions would fall upon anything but fallow ground. But I did wonder what it would be like to live with Gabriel, to bear his child, to have him treat me as if I was the most precious thing on the planet. And there was something else about Drake and Aisling, an awareness that I found both curious and intriguing. They didn’t touch each other often, didn’t even appear to be looking at each other much, but if Aisling shifted slightly to get more comfortable, Drake was instantly there, adjusting a pillow or sliding a glass a little closer to her.

I wondered if the obvious sympathetic bond they shared was something unique to them, or whether a version of it would come as I spent time with Gabriel.

His fingers brushed the back of my neck lightly as if in unspoken answer.

‘‘Kostya insists that you have the phylactery,’’ Drake said without preamble.

His brother, who was pacing along the far edge of the patio, whirled around and glared at Gabriel. ‘‘There is no one else who would steal it! He must have it. I demand it be returned to me.’’

Gabriel’s fingers tightened on my shoulder. ‘‘Disregarding the fact that I do not, in fact, have the phylactery, your claim to it is asinine. Drake found it in Fiat’s lair—if anyone has a claim on it, it would seem Drake does . . . or at worst, Fiat. But not you, Konstantin Nikolai Fekete.’’

The black dragon did not like hearing Gabriel use his full name, and I didn’t blame him. Everyone knew that names have power, and I certainly wouldn’t want a wyvern I was more or less warring against invoking mine.

Kostya snarled and would have lunged toward Gabriel, but István and Pál had taken up positions on either side of him, grabbing him when he started toward us.

I leaped to my feet, ready to shadow and go after him if Drake’s men couldn’t control him.

‘‘I begin to think you are more like a falcon than like a blackbird, Mayling,’’ Gabriel murmured gently, pushing me back into the chair. ‘‘Do not trouble yourself over Kostya.’’

‘‘Mei Ling?’’ Kostya asked, the anger in his face giving way to surprise. ‘‘Mei Ling the thief?’’

‘‘She is not a thief, not a real one,’’ Gabriel said with a flash of his silver eyes. ‘‘She simply acquires objects for her employer, nothing more.’’

‘‘And yet you claim you did not steal my phylactery?’’ Kostya turned to his brother with an angry gesture. ‘‘What more proof do you need? She is a thief, and his mate. Obviously, she stole it to please him!’’