“I have not forgotten her,” Kostya said calmly. “Not that she is technically my mate, but I have not forgotten her. It is impossible to do so.”

Cyrene gasped and whomped him again on the shoulder. “I am so your mate! You said I was!”

Kostya stood up with a heavy sigh. “No, I said you could be my mate based on the fact that your twin is Gabriel’s, but I never said you actually were. I just . . . er . . . implied the possibility existed.”

“So am I or aren’t I?” she asked, her hands on her hips. I noted the dangerous look in her eye and wondered whether she had been with Kostya long enough for him to recognize it.

Evidently he had. He took her hands in his and said something in her ear that evidently placated her.

“This is wrong,” I murmured to Gabriel. “He’s leading her on.”

“Yes, but that is his own affair. It has nothing to do with weyr business.”

“No, but it is important to me.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “And I’m not going to let him continue with a charade that is only going to end badly. Cyrene, I’m sorry, but the truth is that you’re not Kostya’s mate. You’re not any dragon’s mate.”

“Oh!” she said, outrage dripping from every pore. “How dare you say that about me! If you didn’t have a dragon of your own, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Well, I do, and I’m not. Cy, I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not lying now when I tell you that you are not a dragon’s mate. Gabriel tested you last month.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice rich with sincerity. “But May is right.”

“But . . . but . . .” She cast a sorrowful glance at Kostya.

“You cannot handle dragon fire,” Gabriel said gently. “You cannot even tolerate it. Any dragon mate can do so, especially a wyvern’s mate. There is also the fact that none of us sense in you any other attributes of a mate.” He cast a glance toward the other wyverns. They all shook their respective heads.

A curious parade of emotions passed across Cyrene’s face. Anger, dismay, and sorrow were followed by a look of determination that had me slumping back into my chair.

I turned to Kostya. “Will you please tell her the truth?”

He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, but just made unhappy noises.

I shook my head. “Why on earth do you let her go on thinking she’s your mate when she’s not?”

He looked embarrassed and made a vague gesture. “It’s . . . er . . . complicated. She’s . . . she’s . . .”

“It’s because I’m good in bed,” Cyrene suddenly announced, the determined look settling firmly upon her face. “Which you well know. Well, not from firsthand experience, but because you’re my twin, and if I’m good, then you must be good at it, too. At least I assume you are.” She turned to Gabriel. “Is May—”