“Yes.”

“Dammit. I suppose I could call him—” I had started reaching for the phone when Uncle Damian stopped me with a few words.

“He says you’re pregnant.”

I sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch, clicking off the phone. “Possibly pregnant. We’re not sure, although I do have an ultrasound scheduled for this afternoon. I’m sorry if you’re shocked that it’s possible I’m pregnant before we got married, but—”

Scorn curled his lip. “Do you seriously believe I care about that?”

“Well…I know Paula will be full of lectures for weeks when she finds out.”

“I am not your stepmother. But I am evidently now your bodyguard. What’s this business of you going over to another group of dragons?”

“Drake told you about that, huh? It would take hours to explain it, so I’ll just give you the quick and dirty version—two other wyverns pulled a nasty on us last month, with the end result that I am temporarily considered the blue wyvern’s mate. And since we’re already at war with one sept, I’d like to avoid any similar confrontation with the blue dragons, hence the need for me to have a bodyguard when I attend their meeting tomorrow. If you’re not up to the job—”

Uncle Damian made an impatient noise. “As if a little job like protecting you from some dragons is going to challenge me. I just want to know the lay of the land so I can make some plans.”

I gave him the name of the hotel and added that I would bring in a couple of other people to help. “I’ll have Jim and Rene, and possibly my demon steward, and in a pinch, Dad.”

“I doubt he would be of much use,” Uncle Damian replied, not quite rolling his eyes, but I could tell he wanted to.

“There’s more to him than you see,” I answered, reaching for the phone again.

“Hrmph.”

Uncle Damian was busily making security plans by the time Drake answered his cell phone.

“When do you want to leave?” Uncle Damian asked as he was about to exit the room.

“Oh, hi, sweetie, hang on a sec. As soon as Paula gets back and Rene shows up, OK?” He nodded and left. I returned my attention to the phone. “Sorry about that. My escort was inquiring what time I wanted to leave to buy a new dress. And speaking of the dress I will wear to marry an incredibly sexy green-eyed dragon who didn’t wake me up in a manner guaranteed to keep a smile on my face all day, where are you?”

Drake’s voice had an oddly strained note to it. “A situation has come up, and we’re investigating it. I will be at the church on time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“A situation? More Chuan Ren?”

“No. This has nothing to do with the war. I do not have time to explain to you now, kincsem.”

“You know, a lesser woman would demand to know what it is you’re up to, but I am one with serenity and trust you entirely, despite the fact that yesterday you stood me up in front of everyone I ever knew.”

Drake snorted.

“Love you. Kisses and hugs. Smoochies galore. Licks, nibbles, and assorted gropages.”

I could almost hear Drake’s eyes rolling. He disliked overt shows of affection in public, which just made me say the most outrageous things to him in private. “Good-bye, Aisling.”

“Wait a second, buster. Come on, you have to say it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. The rules say you have to say it once a day, and you haven’t said it at all today.”

“Pál and István are here,” he answered, clearly trying to muster a hint of outrage even though he knew I wasn’t going to buy it. “That negates the rules.”

“They’re big boys, I’m willing to bet they won’t keel over if they hear their leader tell his fiancée that he loves her. Say it!”

“Our train just arrived at the station. I can’t say it now. I must go, kincsem.”

“Train? You’re on a train somewhere?” Now, that got my attention. Drake puttering around town taking care of business was one thing, but what could be so important that it forced him to leave town a few hours before our wedding? “Sweetie, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain the situation to you at a later time. Heed your uncle’s warnings and do as he says.”

He clicked off before I could ask where he had gone to.

“How did they get Abaddon into a small Kensington shop?” Jim asked, scrunching itself down so as not to get whapped in the face by flying beaded satin.

“Don’t be silly. This is London, not Hell.”

Three giggling young women hurried past us with hot-pink bridesmaid dresses that lay limp in their arms like some sort of gigantic, horribly mutated jellyfish, trailing tendrils of ruffled lace and ribbons.

Jim cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, all right, there are similarities, but it is not Abaddon. And hush. Someone is going to hear you if you keep talking.”

Jim shot me a look that I ignored as Paula bustled over with her arms full of tulle, glitter-bespecked white satin, and marabou feathers. “Now, this one is absolutely lovely, dear, and would look fabulous on you. It glitters! I know you said you didn’t want white, but just look at it! Oh, if only they had dresses like this when I was young!”

I tried to avoid looking at the dress full on, lest it burn out my retinas with its glittering hideousness. “It’s very nice, Paula, but you know, I’m just not a white wedding dress sort of girl. I mean, I did that once, and we all know how that ended. I wanted something with a bit of color, something different, something—oh, hi. Um. That’s a bit too different.”

The salesclerk, who had gone into the bridal shop’s sister store—specializing in corsets and Goth wear—presented me with an electric blue tulle miniskirt with lime green corset. “It’s very popular,” the clerk reassured me.

“I’m sure it is, but I’m thinking of something with just a smidgen more tradition, while not being a full-fledged wedding gown. Maybe something in the mother-of-the-bride area?”

Paula looked shocked. “Good heavens, Aisling, what are you thinking! Mother-of-the-bride gown, indeed. No, I’ll go find you something. There are plenty of other choices if you don’t want white. There’s peach, and pale pink, and a lovely mauve I saw in the corner…” She dumped the white monstrosity and wandered off to look for another dress.