“I don’t know if that helps or not,” she said, her lips twitching as if she was fighting a smile. “But I appreciate that.”

“Good.” He sat, enjoying the silence and her nearness. He’d forgotten just how comforting it was to have a woman next to him.

“Well, this has been a delightful interlude, but I think it’s about ended. Are you going to get me out of here, or not?” she asked, giving him a look that he felt down to his soul.

He made the decision at that moment.

“Yes,” he said, and, without another word, left the room. The red-haired guard stationed outside immediately locked the door after him.

“Hey!” he heard the siren yell after him. “Hey ... goddamn it, what is your name? ... come back here and let me out. Do you hear me? Let me out!”

Her voice followed him up the stairs to the main room, where the dragons were discussing the situation.

The First Dragon never expected to find himself so interested in the dealings of his children. To be sure, it was fascinating to see how the race had evolved since he had first claimed a mate and fathered the firstborn, but this—this was absorbing on a whole new level.

“We’re going to have to call the Watch,” Drake, the wyvern of the green dragons, said, striding past where the First Dragon claimed a chair. “We can’t let her go, obviously, since god knows what she’ll do to us in revenge.”

“She didn’t seem to me like a revenge sort of person,” Aisling said, on her way out to answer a call from the nursery. “Don’t do anything until I get back. Oh, hi, Ysolde. Yes, they’re all in there. Baby duty calls.”

“I just did that, myself. Anduin was out of bed and running around naked on the hunt for your twins. I had to ask your housekeeper to keep her eye on him. The little devil is the best escape artist. ...” Ysolde hurried in, giving the First Dragon a side-eye before seating herself next to her mate, Baltic. The First Dragon considered Baltic, his only living first-generation child. In many ways, Baltic took after him, preferring to be on the fringes whenever dragons gathered in a group, holding himself aloof, and watching rather than acting. But he also bore his mother’s passion and sense of rightness, and it was both of those that had so touched the First Dragon’s heart. Even now, Baltic’s posture was studiously casual, but his eyes gave away the warmth of his love when he gazed upon his mate.

“That means getting Dr. Kostich involved,” Gabriel said, glancing toward his mate, May. The First Dragon liked her—Gabriel called her his little bird, a name that fit her—but he knew little about the silver dragons. Born of a split with the black sept, they were the youngest of all his children ... with the exception of the reborn red dragons. Idly, he wondered how they were doing, and made a note to drop in and see for himself, once the period of the wager was over. “Kostich is going to be the only one who would have the power to take Vicky in. Unless we gag her somehow.”

“Ugh,” Ysolde said, frowning. “Surely that’s not necessary.”

“Vicky?” the First Dragon heard himself say, somewhat to his surprise. He hadn’t intended on speaking.

“That’s the siren,” May explained.

“No, it is not,” he corrected her.

May looked confused, and glanced at her mate for help.

“Do you know something, sir?” Gabriel asked.

The First Dragon decided he liked the silver wyvern. He was respectful, and clearly cherished his mate above all else. A romantic at heart, the First Dragon liked to see dragons appreciate their mates. “I know that her name is not Vicky.”

The dragons present eyed one another before Drake asked, “If you have information about the siren, we would ask that you tell us.”

“I do not know her name other than to say it is not Vicky. That name does not resonate with her. She must bear another.”

“I see. Well ...” Drake cast a glance at the others in the room. “You understand that the situation is a difficult one. The thieves were mortal, and although they clearly knew about members of the Otherworld, they are not part of it. The woman, whatever her name, is a different matter.”

“Perhaps the First Dragon does not know about the interdict the Committee of the L’au-dela has placed upon sirens,” Gabriel said.

“He knows,” Baltic said. “As is he fond of pointing out, he’s a god. There is little he does not know.”

The other wyverns looked mildly uncomfortable. The First Dragon eyed his son, telling himself that he shouldn’t encourage such disrespect, but it was ever thus with Baltic.

A memory suddenly returned to him of centuries past, when Baltic had taken his first steps, his tiny pudgy hands holding tight to the First Dragon’s fingers, lurching forward with infinite glee at his newly discovered mobility. He remembered the joy in Maerwyn’s face, how she applauded and praised the babe, and the swell of pride in his chest at the sight of them together.

A familiar ache of things lost returned him to the present. Absently, he rubbed a spot on his chest, and recalled himself to the conversation. He turned to Gabriel. “On the contrary, about this I am in ignorance. What is the L’au-dela?”

“The governing body of the Otherworld,” Gabriel answered. “We dragons, through the weyr, have a treaty with the L’au-dela, so while we are not bound by their rules, in general, we live by them.”

“It makes our lives easier,” Drake agreed, moving over to a sofa when his mate returned to the room with murmured apologies. “On the whole. There have been some conflicts between them and Baltic.”

“Words that I’m sure surprise no one in this room,” the First Dragon said softly, with a little twist of his lips.

Baltic looked outraged, but Ysolde and Aisling both laughed.

“You talking about Kostich and the Committee?” Aisling asked. “He’s bad news, even though he can be decent at times. Ysolde is our ambassador with the L’au-dela, Mr. First Dragon, and he gives her endless grief, but she’s kind of used to that.”

“I will admit that there are days when I’d dearly love to turn Dr. Kostich into a banana,” Ysolde said, studiously buffing a fingernail against the material of her dress. “But for the most part, he’s pretty by the book. If there is a law, he abides by it.”

“And one of those laws is that sirens are absolutely forbidden to sing,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Their magic is too powerful, with only a few beings who can resist them. That’s why Dr. Kostich laid the interdict on them. There was one who ran around Europe a few decades ago, creating a disturbance in both the mortal and immortal worlds, but he had her confined.”