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“Intriguing,” it murmured. “It seems we are of an age.”

“Are we?” she rose out of the pool, taking her time, and walked up some steps on the far side where several servants waited with a silken robe. “Perhaps we should meet at some point. I would love to see more of your beautiful world, or to show you mine. If, as I understand it, your people can shapeshift?”

He laughed. “Yes, it would be a feat otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

“Not perhaps as much as you might think,” she said, sending an image of her own transformed self.

“Even more interesting,” the dragon murmured. “Do you know, it has been some time since I have seen your world. Perhaps too long.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled at him, not bothering to sheath her fangs, and Kit had the strangest idea occur to him. He pushed it away; it was absurd.

Like talking dragons?

Or the fact that his Lady was bargaining for his life with a rendezvous.

And it was working.

The dragon set Kit back on the shelf with a little pat. “I look forward to our meeting,” he told her.

“It will be my pleasure,” she purred, and the images cut out.

The sudden cessation of her mental takeover was as staggering as the advent had been, and left Kit reeling. Which was rather dangerous on a ledge that small. But he adjusted—just in time to see that great snout being pushed into Gillian’s face instead, making him tense up all over again.

But his lady handled it better than he had. She dropped into a low curtsy, as pretty a thing as you’d see at court, which was likely where she’d learnt it. And then looked up, her face as beautiful and serene as if she was addressing her queen, and not . . .

Whoever this was.

“Rathen-Den of House Edredd,” the dragon told him, sliding those disturbing eyes his way. And apparently having no more trouble reading his mind than his lady did, or perhaps their connection was still open. Kit could almost feel her own dark eyes on him, and why not?

He often had the feeling that she’d changed him more for the amusement value he offered than his expertise.

“Fifty-fifty,” he thought he heard her murmur, but couldn’t be sure.

“Rathen in this form, Den in the other, you see?” the creature added, when Kit simply stood there.

“In . . . in the other form?” Kit asked.

The dragon tilted its head slightly, and managed to convey with that one, small gesture that it was re-evaluating Kit’s intellect.

Downward.

“The Dragonkind are like our shifters,” Gillian quickly explained. “Just as there are werewolves and wolves, so too there are Dragonkind and dragons. The first have two natures; the second only one. You see?”

She sounded like she profoundly hoped so, with her voice a little high. Kit nodded, and Gillian, who had risen back to her feet, dropped another curtsy as the dragon’s approving eye came to rest on her once more. Kit thought that a bit excessive, but if ever there was a time for caution, he supposed this was it.

“As pretty as a flower,” the dragon said to her, and actually gave the impression of a smile. “But far more daring.”

“Daring, my lord?” she repeated. “We meant no disrespect—”

“None taken. But whilst your little ledge likely goes unnoticed much of the year, it is doubtful to remain so now.”

“I . . . beg pardon?” Gillian said, looking as confused as Kit felt.

But the dragon only looked at the rocky protuberance on its left. It was one of those sparing them from the buffeting winds, and which helped to hide the entrance to the tunnel. Try as he might, Kit could see no difference betwixt it and the one on the opposite side.

And yet the dragon was regarding it with an expectant expression.

“I would take a look?” Kit asked carefully, and had the huge creature wave a hand in what was clearly a ‘be my guest’ gesture.