“You dare?” Kostya asked, bristling with indignation.

“He’s just trying to rile you up,” Cyrene told him, retrieving her hand in order to pat him on the arm. “Just ignore it. You know full well I’m your mate and I’m not going to let any other dragon woo me away.”

Kostya’s frown cleared slightly.

“No matter how good-looking he is,” Cy added with a smile at Fiat.

The look Kostya shot her should have dropped her dead on the spot, but Cy is oblivious to that sort of thing.

“Mate?” Fiat asked, narrowing his gaze at her.

“Oh, no,” I murmured.

Gabriel leaned close to me. “She thinks she is a mate? Did we not disprove that point when we first met?”

“Yes, and yes. She swears she’s Kostya’s mate, and that the only reason she hasn’t exhibited any signs therein is because he’s not yet a wyvern.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“I assumed not, but you know how she is—once she gets an idea, she runs with it.”

Cyrene had been explaining her theory of mateness to Fiat while I was talking to Gabriel. Fiat shot Kostya a speculative glance, but neither said anything to burst her bubble. I had a horrible feeling that job would fall to me.

“If you should change your mind, cara, I will be happy to oblige you,” he murmured. I think he would have gone into full seduction mode, but at that moment he caught sight of us.

“Gabriel, my old friend,” Fiat said, the emphasis unmistakable as he approached us. “I have not heard from you these long months.”

Gabriel made a little bow. “I have been busy, as I assume you have.”

Fiat’s cold sapphire gaze slid over me, appearing startled for a brief instant. “Either my eyes deceive me, or this lovely lady is identical to the one I just left.”

I didn’t flinch at his close examination, although I badly wanted to shadow to escape his penetrating scrutiny. To my surprise, I felt his mind brush against mine. I quickly erected my mental defenses, glancing at Gabriel to see whether he had noticed.

The muscle in his jaw twitched once. He’d noticed.

“Identical and yet not identical,” Fiat continued in a soft voice. “A mate? Can this be?”

“Yes, and she’s claimed,” Gabriel said with much less suavity than was the norm for him.

Fiat blinked; then a slow smile crept over his handsome face. He embraced me with great care, pressing a cold kiss to each of my cheeks. I stiffened, bracing myself for the moment when he realized that I wore the phylactery, but Gabriel’s assurances were not false. Fiat didn’t so much as sniff in the region of my chest.

“A mate at long last! I am so pleased for you, my old friend. And for you too . . . er . . .” He paused.

“May,” I said, scooting over an inch or two until I was pressed against Gabriel. “Cyrene is my twin.”