"Or what?" a voice I didn't recognize asked.

"Or you will be sent back to the queen's tender care."

Silence to that, a thick and not very restful silence. "The sex had better be damn good if I'm expected to do windows." I think it was Usna.

"It is," Rhys said.

"Shut up, Rhys," Galen said.

"Well, it's true," he said.

"Enough," I said, "I'm tired, and if I'm going to be well enough to do anything with anyone tomorrow, I need sleep."

Silence then, and the small noises that bodies make as they move under sheets. Ivi's voice came soft and distant. "How good?"

Rhys answered from the door, "Very..."

"Good night, Rhys," I said, "and good night, Ivi. Go to sleep."

I was almost asleep, lost between the twin warmths of Doyle and Adair, when I heard whispering. I knew from the tone that one of them was Rhys, and thought the other was probably Ivi. I could have yelled at them, but I let sleep roll over me like a warm, thick blanket. If I insisted on all of them being quiet at the same time, we'd never get to sleep. If Rhys wanted to regale Ivi with tales of sex, then he was free to do it. So long as I didn't have to listen to the details.

The last sound I heard was a stifled and very masculine laugh. I would learn the next morning that Rhys had attracted quite a crowd for his erotic tales. He swore our most solemn oath that he hadn't lied or exaggerated. I had to believe him, but I vowed never again to let him stay up late telling tales to those who had not shared my bed. If I wasn't careful he'd give me a reputation that no one, not even a fertility goddess, could live up to. Rhys tells me I'm being modest. I tell him I'm only mortal, and how can one mortal woman satisfy the lusts of sixteen immortal sidhe?

He gave me a look and said, "Mortal is it? Are you sure of that?"

The answer, truthfully, is no, but how do you tell if you're immortal? I mean, I don't feel that different. Shouldn't immortality feel different? It seems like it should. Besides, how do you test the theory?