Although he didn’t look much happier, Joe nodded and joined Regan at the counter, a careful three seats apart, Jack noticed—not so far he seemed afraid, not so close he seemed stupid.

“Sit.” The two of them tucked into the back corners, the female gestured to a place at the far end of the bench across from where Regan had been sitting.

Jack checked it out, then dropped into the space Regan had vacated instead, the gross feel of the warmed vinyl preferable to the appearance of obedience. “So . . .” He pushed Regan’s empty plate away with the side of his forearm, jacket between him and whatever the Glashtin may have left behind. “. . . do you two have names or do I keep thinking of you as the male and the female?”

“Arwen.” She nodded across the table. “Elessar.”

“Seriously?” Allie’d made him read the books before he could watch the movies. He’d liked the movies better. He’d only just learned to read English and those books were long. Also, the first one, the easier one, had no idea about dragons. He did like the poetry, though, and the genealogical charts. “You had every name in the entire world to choose from and that’s what you went with?”

“It amuses us, and we tell those who ask that our progenitors were fans.”

“Progenitors?” It seemed they’d brought the stick that culturally went up their collective asses all the way from the UnderRealm. “If the names weren’t enough, that’s got to have most of the student body all up in your face.”

Elessar shrugged. “Not once they’ve seen our long shot. After the first couple of games, they cry our names from the bleachers and disrespect is summarily dealt with.”

“By others,” Arwen added. “Now that the posturing is over . . .” she sighed as though the mere thought of posturing wearied her beyond belief. “. . . let us agree that you’re not going to eat us, and we aren’t going to stop your heart in your chest.”

“We aren’t?” Elessar asked.

“Probably not.” Her eyes glittered under the glamour when she turned to face Jack. Glittered like shards of glass, he noted, with edges that could slice through flesh and bone. “Which brings us to the question: what could the Dragon Prince possibly want to discuss with us? Regan, though crude, spoke truly; the Courts do not acknowledge your title. Nor, here in the MidRealm, have we interfered with the Gales. Not with the family itself or with those they take under their protection.”

“There was that young man who approached you after the game,” Elessar reminded her.