"I wanted to see the view. Eliseo’s office faces west. I wanted to see…" Margrit gestured to the south. "I wanted this one."

Alban stepped up behind her, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. "No, you didn’t."

"What?" She frowned.

"This isn’t the view you wanted. You’re looking for something that isn’t there." He offered a cautious smile as Margrit turned more fully to gaze at him. "I know a thing or two about searching skylines for memories, Margrit."

She looked back at the city. "I guess we all do now." Alban opened a wing and folded it around her, garnering a quiet sigh of contentment as warmth drove sorrow away. "We have the whole night to ourselves," she said after a moment. "I don’t think there’s a single member of the Old Races in town who’s not at the party downstairs. What do you want to do?"

"With that introduction, I feel I ought to propose my insidious plan to take over the city."

Her voice brightened. "Do you have one?"

"I’m afraid not." Alban’s tone went dry. "If you’re looking for someone to conquer New York with, you might want to invite Janx up here instead."

"Not at all." Margrit turned against his chest, winding her arms around his waist and closing her eyes. "Why did you leave?"

"Because Biali was right." Alban’s heartbeat counted long seconds beneath Margrit’s ear before he spoke again. "Perhaps because I didn’t want to bear responsibility. But mostly, because he was right. I haven’t been part of my people’s world for centuries, Margrit. I didn’t have the right to answer the question the quorum asked tonight."

"Questions," Margrit corrected, and pulled a crooked smile when Alban leaned back to look down at her. "Kaaiai wasn’t the only one with an agenda. I asked them to overturn the other two rules, as well."

Alban went so still beside her that Margrit glanced up to see if stone had swept over him. "On telling humans about us?"

"And exile for killing another of the Old Races. I was sure I’d lost that one, when Biali took your place."

"Margrit." Alban’s voice sounded strangled, and he stepped back from her. "You thought I would support changing that law?"

Surprised offense pinked Margrit’s cheeks. "Why wouldn’t you? It’s your neck I was trying to save."

"Margrit, we have those laws-that law-for a reason. We aren’t so many that we can afford to lose each other to personal battles. Tell me it was overruled."

"What? I was trying to help you, Alban!"

"I understand that." The gargoyle’s voice dropped low, edged with dismay. "But I would not have voted with you. Margrit, how did the quorum decide?"

"It was a hung jury." Margrit moved away, folding her arms around her ribs. "Janx and Biali voted with me. Daisani, Kaaiai and Malik voted against."

"Biali-" Alban made another strangled sound. "That Biali voted with you should tell you everything you need to know as to why we cannot allow that law to be undone, Margrit. Even if it’s my neck, as you put it."

"But…" Embarrassed chagrin filled her, Margrit’s chest ached with disbelief.

"No. Margrit." Alban came forward again, enormous hands curled to brush knuckles against her cheeks. "It is a gift that you tried," he whispered. "A gift I wouldn’t have asked for. Wouldn’t have thought to ask for. I understand that in the human world it makes sense. That there are circumstances when a despicable action is the only recourse, and when turning to it may save more lives than it takes.

"But we must hold a threat over our own heads to ensure our own safety. Banishment from our communities is a difficult thing to contemplate. We have so little besides each other. We can’t let that go. If we do we may lose ourselves forever. I understand your reasoning, but I beg you, never try this again. Please, Margrit. If you would grant me a gift, grant me this. Do not try to undo this law, even to save me."

Tears pricked at Margrit’s eyes. "You should’ve been a lawyer." Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard, averting her gaze. "I was trying to help you."

"Yes. As a human would, in the human world. But I don’t belong to that world, Margrit. I glide on its edges. I know it’s not easy, but you can’t think of me as one of you. You’re reluctant to imprison Janx or Daisani," he whispered. "Turn that reluctance to me. The laws that govern me are not the same as those that govern you."

"I should know that by now." Her throat remained tight, constricting her answer. "I thought-" She’d thought like a human. "Okay." A tiny, harsh nod accompanied the word. "Okay. I get your point. I shouldn’t have tried. I should’ve talked to you first. I just-"

"You saw an injustice and were determined to make it right." Alban smiled cautiously, as if afraid the expression would earn her ire. "It is a gift, Margrit, but not one I can accept. One I’m relieved to hear has not been granted." He drew in a deep breath and dropped his hands, stepping back again. "Perhaps I should leave you."

Margrit reached for his arm. "Don’t you dare." She consciously echoed him, taking a deep breath of her own and feeling it shudder in her lungs. "Don’t you dare. We’re finally talking. We’re finally together. Even if we’re talking about my colossal mistake," she added beneath her breath. "I’m not letting you go now."

"Not a mistake, Margrit. You meant well."

"I meant well, but I didn’t think. I didn’t think like one of you," she amended, and Alban chuckled.

"Perhaps because you’re not one of us. All right." He drew her close again, Margrit sighing into his warmth. "What now?"

"Take me flying."

"You’ll be cold, in that gown."

"Alban." Exasperated humor colored Margrit’s response. "You’ll just have to think of some way to warm me up."

"Humans," he murmured under his breath, but lifted Margrit with both hands, letting her bury her arms under his warm hair and snuggle against the expanse of his chest. She clung to him, nose against his shoulder to hide a grin, then squealed with excitement and laughter when he crouched and surged upward, broad wings snapping out to catch the air.

"You’re better at that than Biali," she shouted into the wind, once they were airborne.

Alban turned his head, wrinkling his nose as strands of her hair came loose and whipped across his face. "You flew with Biali?" His low growl made Margrit hug him in reassurance.

"When he brought me to see Janx the other night. Wouldn’t sully himself with the subway. It was like riding a roller coaster, all surges and stops. You flow." Margrit nuzzled his neck, putting her lips against his skin before she spoke again. "Don’t be jealous. It doesn’t suit you."

"It’s more of a dragon’s trait," Alban rumbled, "but we’re not immune to it. Your ability to conquer the men around you is somewhat distressing, Margrit, you must admit."

"Oh, so now you’re men." The wind stung her, bringing with it burgeoning desire as her nipples tightened against the cold, satin caressing them like a lover’s tongue. She spoke to distract herself, a halfhearted attempt at taking her mind from the heat of Alban’s body pressed against hers. "I haven’t conquered anybody, Alban. Janx flirts like he breathes, without thinking about it. Daisani plays at being charming, but I’m just a tool to him. Don’t fool yourself. Don’t let them fool you. This house of cards you Old Races have is fragile enough without introducing trouble where it doesn’t exist."

"And that tango?" The grumble left Alban’s voice, leaving ruefulness behind. Margrit tucked herself closer, her nose in his hair as she breathed in the scent of cold stone and wind. He shifted a hand beneath her bottom, pulling her closer, and she slid her thigh over his hip, fighting slippery fabric to hold it there.

"If I’d had any idea it would be a tango…"

Alban chuckled. "Malik is the least of my fears, so far as your attention is concerned."