“I’m surprised,” Janx interrupted, “that you’re willing to offer the selkies anything, given how they’ve betrayed you.”

“I’m beginning to think anger over betrayal is something I can’t afford. There’s no reason not to put Daisani’s holdings on the open market and let humans take him apart in a free-for-all, but I thought you’d appreciate the irony of handing his empire to the selkies, if he’s handed yours to the djinn.”

“Oh, I do, I do. I’d rather take it myself, but—” Janx gave a sharp look around the room as all three women and Alban inhaled to speak. “But, as you’ve taken pains to remind me several times, our days in this city are limited. Too many people know my face, and have for too many years.”

“No one knows ours,” Ursula murmured.

Janx tipped his head forward until red hair slid into his eyes. “True, but I trust you understand why I’m reluctant to offer such reins to Eliseo’s daughter.” His eyebrows elevated and he transferred his gaze to Kate. “Or to my own, for that matter. One leaves my old rival with too much potential influence, and the other, I fear, leaves me with too much potential loss. I have only just found you, child,” he said softly, as Kate’s eyebrows drew down. “Do not make me face the possibility of losing you so soon.”

Kate’s mouth twisted, an expression just shy of offense. “Child? We’re nearly four hundred years old.”

“And I have no intention of telling you how old I am,” Janx said easily. “You may be assured, however, that at four centuries you’re barely more than broken free of the shell. Besides,” he added impudently, “you’re my daughter. I can call you child if I want to, regardless of your age or my own.”

“Was Mother ever this annoying?”

That whisper, Margrit heard, and grinned broadly. “I think Janx has cornered the market on irritating. You get used to it.”

“No,” Alban rumbled, “you don’t. He does, though, seem to have some modicum of charm which women are susceptible to, and I believe that prevents him from meeting an untimely expiration.”

“That,” Janx said cheerfully, “and dragons are hard to kill.”

Margrit snorted. “You’re all hard to kill.”

Kate, far too forthright, said, “Selkies aren’t,” and Ursula, a breath behind her, said, “Neither are djinn, if you know how.”

“There are going to be repercussions for that,” Alban said above Margrit’s head, clearly speaking to Janx and no one else.

Janx opened a hand and let it fall closed again. “We seem to be living in an era of repercussions. Our world has changed, and changed mightily. I have little fear that some accord will be reached on my daughter’s and niece’s murderous behavior.”

“Niece?”

“Niece,” Janx said firmly. “I shudder to think of how we might wrestle over terminology, and choose to streamline it as best I can. After all, I’m only a simple dragon, untutored in how to manage family affairs.”

Alban ducked his head next to Margrit’s and breathed, “The world has indeed changed if Janx is proclaiming his simplicity. Margrit, when will these changes you’ve wrought in Eliseo’s empire begin to spread?”

“Monday morning.” Margrit pressed back against Alban’s solidity, gaining warmth and comfort from his presence. “I’ve got to talk to Kaimana before that, but I think we’re looking at a lull in the action. We have thirty-six hours to just be together before anything else goes to hell.”

Even Janx paused, waiting, like everyone else, for Margrit’s comment to trigger disaster. When it didn’t—no chamber cave-ins, no Grace appearing with a dire warning, no cell phones ringing to bear bad news—she laughed and put a hand over her mouth before speaking through her fingers. “I honestly expected something terrible to happen.”

“Human superstition,” Janx said dismissively.

Margrit picked up a chess pawn and threatened to throw it at him before replacing it on the board. “You froze up, too, dragonlord.” She sighed and snuggled back against Alban, then deliberately got to her feet as briskly as she could. “So when shall we five meet again? Janx, I take it you’re not going to clear out of here until Daisani’s in ruins.”

Janx slid his head to the side, smooth snakelike action, and considered her. “I am not. I shall, however, leave Grace and her motley crew alone for the duration of my incarceration here. For your mother’s sake,” he said as Margrit felt astonishment cross her face. “For the sacrifice you, and she, are making, I shall make one in return.” His lips curled back from his teeth, brief angry expression. “I do not like to be beholden, and you’ve made it quite clear you’re willing to use your advantages when you hold them.”

“I’ve learned from the best.”

Janx bowed his head and came to his feet, as much honor as dismissal. Margrit turned to Alban and offered her hands, tugging him to standing when he accepted them. Joy fluttered within her and she stepped into the gargoyle’s arms for a fierce hug before turning back to Janx. “I’ll call or come down when I’ve talked to Kaimana. I assume you’ll want to be there, or at least know, when the rug starts to come out from under Eliseo’s feet.” Her pleasure faded before she finished speaking, but Janx’s flared.

“That would be superb. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Yes,” murmured Eliseo Daisani. “I imagine you do.”

The only saving grace about Margrit’s startled yelp was that everyone around her looked as surprised as she felt. Given the company in which she stood, that seemed like a triumph: even the Old Races could be taken off guard by a vampire.

Alban recovered first: of the others, Janx looked too irritated to recoup gracefully, and Ursula held Kate’s arm until white flushed around her grip. The gargoyle stepped forward, putting himself between Margrit and Daisani. “Eliseo.”

“Alban. Do you think hiding Margrit behind you will protect her from me if I choose to hunt her?”

“I think even a vampire must consider whether he wants to risk battle with a gargoyle.”

“Have you a wooden stake?” Daisani teased, then, as Margrit peered around Alban’s width, made a light welcoming gesture. “I am not, at the moment, here to exact any kind of vengeance. In fact, I have something of a conundrum, and our dear Miss Knight is, as usual, at its heart.”

“As usual?” Margrit protested. “You’ve known each other for centuries, and I’ve earned an as usual already?”

“You must admit, you’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to become an as usual,” Janx said lightly. “Do come in, Eliseo. Do sit down and tell us all your troubles. Oh, and might I introduce you to Sarah’s daughters? Katherine, called Kate, and Ursula.” He offered a sweeping bow, falling back a step in order to better present the twins.

For once, despite being in a safe area, Daisani chose not to show off, and approached the twins at a merely human pace. He stopped a few feet away, gaze hungry as he studied the twins, and as they studied him in return. Ursula’s grip had moved to her sister’s hand, both of them bloodless with it.

“You have the look of your mother about you,” Daisani finally said. Even Margrit could hear the restraint in his soft words; as much restraint as it must have taken to walk at a man’s speed, the better to not challenge either woman, and perhaps be found wanting.

Wanting, or worse, alone.

Ursula nodded. “That’s what she always said. She didn’t think we took anything from you.”

“Me,” Daisani whispered, and Kate flapped her free hand toward both him and Janx, and said, “You. Both of you. Either of you. Except what we did, of course.”

A look of perfect befuddlement washed over Daisani’s face as he glanced toward Janx, the expression by far the most human thing Margrit had ever seen grace his features. “Ursula is your daughter,” she said, taking sudden pity on the vampire. “Kate is Janx’s. There’s no doubt of it once you see them in action.”