“Have no fear, little bird,” he said, tipping my head up to give me a swift, reassuring kiss. “I would not risk your life even for the Lindorm Phylactery. You are my mate, thus you are immune to the spells bound to it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, shrugging my shoulders a few times to get used to the metal lodged between my breasts. It warmed quickly to skin temperature but left me feeling very aware that a priceless artifact was stuffed down my bra.

Gabriel flashed his dimples at me and escorted me down an aisle that cut through the chairs, Maata and Tipene following silently. He stopped for a moment when a couple of people rose and greeted him, speaking in a lyrical but unfamiliar language.

I am not a nervous person by nature, but I will admit that the situation gave me a nearly overwhelming desire to slip into the shadows. The room was too brightly lit, however, the lights glittering on gold-paneled walls and matching golden furniture, and even off a gold and old rose carpet. I suspected the dragons chose the room as their meeting place more for the ambiance than for functionality, but none of that made me feel any more comfortable.

Covertly, I brushed a bit off lint off the black wool pants Gabriel had bought me that morning, tweaking the tight cuff of the blouse he had presented me with earlier, saying he’d had it specially made for me. It was a very soft, silky black material he called dragonweave, heavily embroidered with real silver thread and precious gems in an intricate design of fanciful dragons that leaped and danced around the shirt. It was very pretty, and although I admired it greatly, not to mention worried about wearing what must surely be such an expensive item, I didn’t think much about it until I put it on. Then I noticed that the black material beneath the embroidery had shadows in it—shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Although the value of the shirt weighed heavily on my mind, prompting me to make a mental promise I wouldn’t go near anything that could be spilled on it, wearing the shirt made me feel different somehow, as if I was more than what I was normally.

“This is my mate, May Northcott,” Gabriel said suddenly in English, turning to present me to three dragons. They wore cloth bright with black and silver African designs, the man in a loose-fitting tunic and pants, the women in garments resembling caftans, with head ties made of the same material. All three murmured a greeting, their silver eyes oddly startling against dark mahogany skin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said politely, knowing better than to offer my hand. Citizens of the Otherworld did not touch one another unless invited to do so, either overtly or indirectly. Too much could be sensed by skin-to-skin contact, and although I wasn’t sure the dragons followed such etiquette, I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with members of Gabriel’s sept.