Beth tilted her head. “Wait, why do you need to talk to Aisling?”

  “Because now I’m involved, seemingly against my will and without my knowledge,” I sighed. “How is this meant to be an apology?”

  Beth exhaled through her nose. “Because you objected to her giving me the request, not actually simply giving the request. Or, at least, that’s what she heard. Was kind of what you said, too. So she’s trying to make sure that next time there won’t be any confusion because you’ll have an attendant she can give requests to.”

  Zoey’s head slipped in the doorway, and she asked, “Hey, is everything alright? This wasn’t quite how I was expecting James to feel when I sent him in to you two, so I’m guessing something is up.”

  “No,” I groaned petulantly. “Sam made very sure that specific something is now comfortably down. Something else is up, though. Do you remember the letter I’ve been avoiding reading because it came from the dragon brat and was supposed to just be an apology for how she acted with us, and how her sister basically said to ignore it if I didn’t want to be bothered?”

  “Yes,” Zoey replied, watching me closely as I rambled.

  “Well, I made a mistake. Maybe. Probably. Maybe not, I don’t know.”

  “I’d say you didn’t,” Sam added.

  “We’re coming back to that. Anyway, I decided that after enjoying Sam and torturing Beth, I was in a mood good enough that nothing Juliana wrote could affect me.”

  “And you were wrong?” Zoey asked.

  “Actually, not really,” I replied. “What she wrote was basically fine. The issue I have is that instead of simply apologizing — or doing nothing, which also would’ve been fine as long as she tried in the future — she somehow got it in her head that in order to prevent the mistake from happening again, she should fix it for me.”

  “What mistake, specifically?” Zoey questioned.

  “The confusion over if Beth, Sam, Zenya, and you were servants. Since you all seemed to be doing things for me, she simply assumed you were household attendants. She seems to have misunderstood what I meant with my clarification of our relationship, though. Her letter makes it clear that, next time, she’ll be sure to treat my mates with the respect they deserve.”

  “How’s she going to do that?” Zoey asked cautiously.

  “By connecting me with the local labor agency and putting in a down payment on a servant’s contract so that she’ll be able to boss someone around that isn’t one of you.”

  “Oh, yikes,” was Zoey’s response.

  “I knew they existed already,” I said. “They must’ve been one of the first people to get the leak that I was a dragon. I wouldn’t be surprised if I were told that someone high up in your agency specifically leaked it to them just to see if I would jump to purchasing people immediately. They contacted me. I declined. I tried to put them out of my mind. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to be a part of it — and I know that’s not really how it works, but, fuck, man.”

  “You can just not take her offer?” Zoey suggested.

  “That’s my plan. Well, after I get some kind of explanation from Aisling that she’s aware of all of this and it’s, for some reason, legal. Given how she gave me Zenya and how fast they were to contact me with completely unobscured information about what they were offering, I imagine it has to be. But I still want to talk to her about it.”

  “What do you think she’s going to tell you? What do you even want to hear, James?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t have a damn clue, to be honest, but she has to have something, right? There has to be some kind of answer that makes her alright with allowing it in her territory, right?”

  “Have you considered that she’s old enough to be from a time when it was fairly commonplace?” Zoey suggested.

  “Yeah. I’m not on board with accepting that as the sole explanation. If it is, I want to take up some of her time, at least, even if it’s only to soothe my own annoyances before I decline the offer anyway.”

  “I would prefer that you don’t do that, James. At least, not right away,” Sam quietly repeated.

  “Sam, I love you, I trust you, I value your input, but you’ve got a significant amount of explaining to do to get me to be on board with doing anything other than sending them a quite firm dismissal and a request that they never contact me or my household ever again.”

  “They already have the money, right?” Sam asked.

  “That’s what the letter sounded like. Or, energy, I guess? I don’t know. Didn’t sound like just money.”

  “And what are the odds Juliana is going to get a refund if you decline?”

  “I don’t much care, to be honest.”

  “Work with me, James, please? Do you think she gets any of it back? Maybe 15%? Maybe?”

  I sighed. “I have literally no idea. As far as I was aware, this entire concept was illegal.”

  “For U.S. citizens, it is,” Zoey clarified. “And, she’s right. I don’t know what specific kind of relationship Juliana would have with the handlers here in the States, but she’s unlikely to get much more than five or ten percent back if you decline their services. They’ll take her initial payment as a cost of doing business with you.”

  “Right, there’s your answer, Sam.”

  “So, if they’ve already been paid, you might as well go look,” Sam stated.

  “Please elaborate,” I asked her. “I really just can’t bring myself to see how that’s the logical conclusion.”

  “This is a business you don’t want to support, right?” Sam asked as everyone stared at her in confusion.

  “An industry I’m offended is permitted to exist, yes.”

  “So, presumably, you don’t want them to simply get a free payday with no costs in terms of their own labor, right?”

  “I think I see where you’re going now. Yes, you’re right; I don’t want them to simply get given more money.”

  “But they already have been.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed.

  “So, before you decline, it might be worth going to look at what they have on offer, simply to see if there is a way you can capitalize on this situation. I’m just saying to go and talk to them without a guaranteed decision one way or the other. They’ve already got the money. So, if you can stomach it, go and see what the wares are. See if there’s someone there you can get out of the system. See if there’s someone there who you wouldn’t want to be purchased by someone else. See if there’s someone there who the industry would view as an asset that you can take out of that industry. If you go and it’s all just awful and unpleasant and you can’t stomach it, yeah, walk away and put it out of your mind. But don’t close that door prematurely.”

  I exhaled. I deflated.

  “I hate that it makes sense, Sam.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I sent them a scathing email and told them that I wished they all got hit by buses in the next week, I’d feel better. I’d feel cleaner if I never even entertained the idea.”

  “But?” Beth asked.

  “But she’s right. I don’t know if this is aggressive to say or not, but, honestly, Beth, this kind of sounds like something you might have gotten caught in had you been in this world to begin with.”

  She tilted her head, thinking about it for a second, and then nodded. “I suppose. I mean, it sounded like most of their offerings have some kind of skills that they’re trading away. Getting guaranteed food and shelter and using whatever their talent is in exchange. I still don’t really have any skills, so I’m not sure who would even want me.”

  “I do,” I replied.

  She smiled but shook her head. “No, James, I know you do. And I wasn’t really judging myself like that. With you, I know I’m wanted for me. But you’re not buying a housekeeper or a warding specialist or a — Help me, Sam, I don’t know what even exists.”

  “Well, as a dragon, he might be interested in a spirit to allow him to cultivate a different flavor of mana. Or a dwarf, drow, or goblin, potentially, to give him different insights about fortifying his own home and future productive enterprises. If we didn’t have our bond, a life-indebted telepath would be an idea, and I’m sure we’ll be offered one, as instantaneous, untraceable, nigh-uncrackable communication is incredibly valuable. An enchanter would be an interesting idea for James to pursue if he were interested in turning this into profit for himself, given how freely he can share a functionally infinite amount of mana.”

  “Right,” Beth cut Sam off. “And, all of those hypothetical—” she emphasized the word, and I could tell she was implying to Sam that it damn well better be the case that everyone she had just rattled off was actually hypothetical. “— people have personalities and past lives and experiences, too, but you’d be hiring them for their skills, first and foremost. I didn’t — don’t have any skills. There’s no draw to pick me out of that crowd, so I’m not sure if I would’ve even been picked up by them.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I stated. “I’m glad you found me.”

  “Kind of the opposite of how I remember it,” Beth countered, though with a smile.

  “Well, I wasn’t a dragon before you needed me to be, so I’d say you found me equally as much as I found you.”

  “I can accept that,” Beth replied, leaning further into me.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “Against my initial judgement, Sam, you’ve convinced me that I should at least participate in this nonsense. In exchange, I want you to come with me when I force my way into meeting with Aisling about this.”

  “Why, exactly?” she asked.

  “Well, first, I want you to hear the answers from her mouth about why this process is permitted to continue existing. And then, secondly, selfishly, I want you there so that I don’t completely lose my temper because I don’t want to get myself the treatment every other dragon has experienced. I think I might need your help with that, frankly.”

  “Oh!” Sam uttered in surprise. “Okay. I can definitely do that. I thought you just wanted me to hear it from her mouth.”

  I shrugged but winced, uneasy with my own impulsive compromise. “I do. I trust your moral compass more than my own—” I saw her brow furrow as I spoke and pivoted to cut off her complaint. “— and I don’t care about the past, Sam. You correctly identified something you weren’t okay with and found a way to feel clean about what you were doing at your personal expense. You literally didn’t get what you wanted so that you could follow as close to your morals as possible in the situation. I trust you more than I trust me, and you can help me stay where I want to be.”

  “I can do that,” Sam said confidently. “You’ll have to tell me if I’m pushing too hard.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet,” I replied.

  “Speaking of where you want to be,” Zoey interjected. “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, you’re not going to make Zenya wait, are you?” Zoey asked. “Your discussion with Marjorie made it sound like you didn’t want to. Everyone here has said their piece already. Are you going to tell the vampire in question?”

  “Yeah,” I grimaced, starting to shift underneath Beth and Sam. “Yeah. I need to ask her to get me a meeting with Aisling, too.”

  “I’m taking a shower,” Sam announced. “And we’re changing the sheets.”

  Beth giggled. “Are you going to recarpet the hallway, too?”

  “Harlot. I can’t believe you were just in the hallway. What if Kyle saw you?” Sam responded.

  Zoey smirked. “He heard her when she started and made sure to stay on the far side of the kitchen.”

  I grimaced again. “Ah, that’s awkward.”

  Zoey shook her head. “James, he’s just happy that you have people around you who care about you and want to be with you. It’s a little awkward, sure, but mostly because this is your home, and he felt like he was intruding on something that you very much should be allowed to do in your own home.”

  “This isn’t my home,” I responded petulantly.

  Sam patted me on the head. “Yes, yes, James, we’re aware that you want something of your own to have. Does that change the point?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Get up, grab your robe, and join us in the shower. You’re not going to invite Zenya to our bed smelling like me.”

  “I really don’t think she’ll care, Sam,” Beth offered as she herself slid off the bed. “She asked in, knowing full well this was going to happen here.”

  “It’s about the principle of it, Beth,” Sam responded. “It’s about the principle.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Hey, Zenya?” I asked an hour later, knocking on the doorframe to her room.

  I had taken a quick shower with Beth — who enjoyed being allowed to crank the water as hot as it could go and encouraged me to summon a donut of flame around the shower head to heat it even further — instead of with Sam, who delayed her shower for exactly that reason. Instead, Sam ran the bath and lounged there while I rinsed off, and then Beth joined her to relax her body for a few more minutes before we went to bed with, in her words, an extra toothy friend watching over us all night. Sam grimaced before sheepishly shrugging her shoulders and admitting that, a year ago, a dragon in her room would have been a thousand times more terrifying than a vampire ever would have been, and Zenya was about the least threatening vampire she had ever interacted with. Then she asked Beth to please not make any more remarks like that.

  I stopped in the kitchen after slipping into a clean pair of shorts and a shirt, grabbing something to nibble on and something to drink before bed. Kyle was there having dinner with his sister, who had rejoined him during my shower, and both of them snickered as I came into the room.

  I couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that I was clearly the impetus for some kind of joke, as seeing the two of them relaxed and happy together was worth being the butt of whatever teenaged foolishness was brewing.

  Kyle didn’t let it hang long, though, as while I was making myself a cup of powdered tea, he asked, “Why’d you lie to me the other day, James?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked back, knowing full well I was walking into a setup.

  “You told me Beth found the dragon in you,” he continued, suppressing a giggle. “What you didn’t say was that she was going to look for it every day here, too.”

  Zoey couldn’t help but giggle at Kyle’s question.

  “Can I let you in on a secret, Kyle?” I asked. He nodded, so I answered my question while staring at the blonde sitting beside him at the table. “Beth enjoys being toyed with by the dragon. Zoey’s the one who searches for the dragon’s limits.”

  Zoey turned scarlet, but Kyle only laughed harder. “I wouldn’t have imagined it any other way,” he said between breaths, “but I’ll appreciate it if you spare me the details.”

  I just smirked and enjoyed the moment of Zoey’s embarrassment. She wasn’t upset with me — she was simply mortified that Kyle might be aware that she existed in that way. Eventually, though, I stopped procrastinating, finished my drink, and made my way to the hallway, where I knocked on Zenya’s door.

  “How can I help you, James?” Zenya responded, looking over to me a second later after she paused her management sim.

  “Well, actually, I had two things to ask you.”

  “Alright,” she said, turning her chair to face me directly.

  “Right, so, first, I need an audience with Aisling.”

  “I can arrange that for you,” Zenya said with a nod. “Do you have a preference for a timeframe, and do you want to share the topic with her in advance?”

  “As soon as possible, and yes, I suppose. I want to talk with her about the labor market.”

  Zenya furrowed her brows and stared me down. “Labor market?”

  “The market that sure feels like it blurs the line between skilled contract hirings, indentured servitude, and outright slavery.”

  “Ah. Yes. Not something you’re fond of.”

  “Kind of thought that it had been eradicated in every democratic country in the world. This country fought a pretty bloody war with itself over it. I was informed this afternoon that Juliana, in a really misguided attempt at an apology, has put a deposit down for me to purchase a household attendant and will cover any costs beyond the deposit if I follow through with the purchase.

  “Against my initial judgement, Sam convinced me to at least start the process because I could remove someone from that cycle on someone else’s nonrefundable dime. As a compromise, I want to get some kind of assurance from Aisling that it isn’t what I think it is.”

  “What do you think it is?” Zenya asked.

  “Well, from what I could when I was first invited to see it, there were some genuinely skilled people willing to trade their labor for adjacency to a lifestyle they couldn’t otherwise acquire on their own. Then there were a number of profiles that really seemed like human trafficking in a package that could let wealthy people ignore the exploitative realities of their actions.”

  Zenya pursed her lips for a moment before replying, “I think you have an accurate grasp of what it is, James.”

  I sighed. “I thought I did. I’m open to being wrong, but if I’m right, I want to know why she lets it continue to exist. I need to schedule a meeting with her to discuss this, and I would like her to be aware that the meeting is likely to be contentious. I would appreciate her understanding and consideration of my words and demeanor, especially given how unfamiliar this entire world is to me. If she tells me that I have a reasonable, if incomplete, understanding of the situation, I’m going to be frustrated and annoyed, and I’m going to need her to recognize that it flies in the face of everything I was raised to believe in when she reacts to me. I’m going to do my best to not immediately demand that she change how she’s running her magical country if she can allow me some latitude to be frustrated about how she is.”

  “I believe I can relay that request to her, James. I cannot guarantee—”

  “No, Zenya, I know. I know you can’t guarantee anything. But giving her the warning that I’m likely to be upset and reminding her that I’m literally not of her world should buy me some margin to play with, and part of my compromise was bringing Sam with me to help me temper my emotions if I do get belligerent while meeting with her. It’s not like I want to have my brand new life go up in flames immediately, but I’m also not going to simply bend over and bury my head in the sand to pretend that things I thought were true are still true even after I’ve been forced to dirty my hands with their reality. I know this world is different, but I don’t see how this is acceptable, even with the fantastic elements changing some of the parameters.”

  “I’ll make the request,” Zenya replied conclusively.

  “Thank you. I don’t know if you want to be there or not, but you’re welcome to join me if you do.”

  “Won’t you require my attendance?”

  “I’m not going to say that I don’t think your presence will be useful, especially given your history and perspective, but I can’t imagine that listening to a heated discussion about a situation you’ve essentially been in before between your current employer and your previous employer would be comfortable for you.”

  “I’d like to be there,” Zenya said, looking me firmly in the eye. “I want to hear what you have to say to her. I didn’t question it when I was in that situation, and I want to understand why you’re so vehemently against it. I want to understand why you’re willing to entertain the idea of getting into an argument with the Seat over it.”

  “That makes sense,” I conceded. “You, me, and Sam, then.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements. Now, James, you had a second thing to ask of me?”

  “Ah, no,” I muttered. “I had two things to ask you but only one thing to ask of you. My second question is: Zenya, would you like to sleep with me and my mates tonight?”

  Her eyes opened wide, and she blinked twice before answering my question with a question. “Tonight?”

  “If you’d like to,” I responded. “I talked with everyone, including taking some time to talk with Marjorie, who seemed to think that we were a lot more involved than we are.”

  Zenya didn’t flinch from what I said. “I told her the truth. Perhaps not all of it.”

  “It’s not my business what you have or have not told her. I’m merely sharing what I told her so that you’re aware the next time you talk to her. She seemed to think it was a good idea, admittedly partially because she thought we already were. Every one of my mates has told me to stop dragging my feet about it and to give you what you want since it’s clearly what I want, too.”

  “You want me to join you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I answered simply.

  “I’d like to rinse myself before getting in bed with you,” she said softly. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

  “Probably,” I answered. “I know Sam and Beth are getting ready, and Zoey should be tired from our time at the gym this morning. I’m more mentally fatigued than physically, but cuddling is a good solution for that, and with five of us in the bed, cuddling won’t be avoidable.”

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then, James, to see if the bed is the same as the slumber palace.”

  I smirked at the reminder of Sam’s creation before nodding and heading back to my room. Walking back in, Sam was absolutely right — the room did have a bit of an unmistakable odor — so I changed the sheets quickly. It was frustratingly satisfying how easy it was to do with magic. Holding the mattress in the air and having the sheets unroll themselves and fit exactly where I wanted them to go around it made a mockery of every time I had ever made a bed before in my life.

  Given that I had been a dragon for some time before Beth had drawn him out of me, it made me wonder how many times I had done a chore in the months leading up to my awakening that could’ve been made trivial by magic. Would’ve been a lot easier to get across campus if I could’ve flown, that’s for sure.

  I was a little surprised that Zenya was the first to join me. Her jet black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her pale skin was a touch pink in spots, whether from the warmth of the water she had used or from the circumstance, I couldn’t tell. She was wearing the pajamas she had on during our sleepover in the living room, though she seemed slightly anxious now that she was in my bedroom rather than hers.

  “How is this going to work?” she asked as she paused in the doorway.

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  “I believe that my mates are willing to work around you for tonight. Eventually, if you enjoy this, you’ll have to work with them to figure out how you want to share, but, for tonight, you get first pick of where you would like to be.”

  “At your side. With your wings around me. Or, just one, I suppose, as someone will be on your other side.”

  I smiled softly at her. “Around here, we call that the Half Beth.”

  As she climbed into bed and cautiously moved to my side, her eyes focused on me. She thought about what I said for a few seconds before gathering her courage to ask, “What, then, is a Full Beth?”

  “Both wings, but with me on top, so that she’s in a cocoon of me, all of her body in contact with all of mine.”

  “Your contact is surprisingly comforting,” she started as she slid under the blankets and moved against me. I could feel the silk of her garments glide against my skin. I was wearing boxers, at least for the first night, but nothing else, and feeling her drift into place in my bed inch by inch, her progress marked clearly against my body, felt right. “But I don’t know how I’d feel about being completely surrounded by you like that. I think I’d enjoy it for a few minutes and then panic and feel smothered.”

  “I am the only one who enjoys it,” Beth said as she stepped into the bedroom. She was, only a little surprisingly, completely naked. “Sam gets too warm, and Zoey only likes being held like that if it’s going somewhere, you know? If she’s being constrained, she wants to be taken, too.”

  Zenya tilted her head for a second before shaking it. “No, that sounds unpleasant.”

  Beth smiled softly as she crawled on top of me, her face ending up on my chest, only a few inches from Zenya’s. “Zoey finds the loss of control exciting. I find it soothing. It’s probably more reasonable to not find it that way, and no one’s going to push you into doing things you don’t want to do. Not here, anyway.”

  “I know. It’s very different from everywhere else I’ve ever been and the antithesis of every piece of knowledge I had about people like him.”

  “People like him?” Beth asked.

  “Powerful men. Dragons. Men with numerous partners. The wealthy and influential. Take your pick, I suppose, because with none of them would I have expected the last few months to have developed like this.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

  “Not tonight,” she replied, shaking her head. “I want to see this through. I want to see if I’m too strange for you.”

  “You’re nervous about it,” I said. I had opened my mouth intending to ask a question, but a statement came out instead.

  “Yes.”

  “Evgenia,” Beth said firmly, “We want you here. You’re lying on James’ wing, right? Zoey has a tail. Nothing besides James can actually touch my skin. Sam’s pretty normal, for a sorceress, but someone has to be the odd one out.”

  “What does that mean?” Zenya asked.

  “Strange is normal here, Zenya. We want you here. A little quirkiness isn’t going to send us running.”

  “We’ll see,” the vampire replied cautiously. “I believe that all of you will be fine — that James’ presence will be enough to offset any discomfort I bring.”

  “But you think that you’re going to unnerve James,” Sam said as she and Zoey entered the bedroom. “And that’s going to ruin it for all of us.”

  “It’s a concern,” she replied. “I want to be wrong.”

  I wrapped an arm around her. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Evgenia settled into me, and Beth let her head fall onto my chest.

  At least, for a few seconds, because after only a few moments, Beth lifted her head back up and asked, “Are you two getting into bed, or are you going to stand there all night.”

  Zoey and Sam looked at each other, but neither moved.

  “You should be next to him,” Sam suggested.

  “You’re his princess,” Zoey replied. “Besides, I get time alone with him almost every day at the gym.”

  “To work out, not to actually get time alone with him. And you won’t even get time alone now since we’re all here. You’re not even here every night, so you should capitalize when you can.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds in silence.

  “I can go,” Zenya whispered. “You can both have him.”

  “No!” every other woman in the room replied insistently. I didn’t say anything, but my arm and wing held the vampire tightly to my body to signal my agreement with the consensus.

  Sam slipped out of her bathrobe and got onto the bed, staring firmly at Zoey as she did, as if to challenge her to say something. Zoey didn’t, merely watching Sam as she took her place in the bed — her place behind Zenya, leaving my right side completely open for the werewolf.

  “Hi, Zenya,” Sam whispered. “Is this alright? Do you want me to put something on?”

  “It’s your bed,” the vampire responded neutrally while Zoey began getting undressed.

  “Not what I asked,” Sam insisted.

  “I don’t want to intrude. It’s your space. I want you to do what you’ll be comfortable with, Samantha. If you’re comfortable being around me as exposed as you are, I’m actually relieved.”

  “Relieved?”

  “Vampires and ghouls don’t typically inspire such trust.”

  “You’re a one-of-a-kind vampire,” Sam replied as Zoey wiggled into the bed against me. “Unlike all the others. If you can find comfort in the wings of a dragon, why couldn’t we find companionship with a vampire?”

  Unlike Sam, I could see Evgenia’s face. I could see the contemplation evident as she processed what Sam was saying. I could also see her very mild embarrassment as she caught me watching her.

  “Sam,” Beth whispered, interrupting the silent eye contact I had with the vampire. “You didn’t turn the lights off before you got in.”

  Sam twitched slightly, and we were plunged into darkness as she telekinetically flipped the switch without getting out of bed.

  “And the fan, please,” Zoey whispered.

  Another twitch, and we were enveloped in the cooling flow of air, which made having all our bodies together more comfortable, accompanied by a subtle dose of white noise. Sam reached one of her arms around Zenya’s waist, dragging it across my hip until she found Beth’s hand, grasping it insistently. Otherwise, the room fell to silence and stillness as my three mates and one question mark drifted towards slumber.

  I understood why Zenya was concerned that we’d find her unnerving about fifteen minutes later. I had drifted into my sleeping twilight for a few minutes, lulled into unawareness by the gently slowing breathing of the two girls against me. I could feel it as their bodies calmed, their pulses settled, and they slipped into unconsciousness.

  Zenya, though, wasn’t alive like Beth or Zoey were. In some ways, she wasn’t alive at all. Which is why she simply stopped breathing after several minutes. The change from very minimal movement of her chest rising and falling against my body as she feigned breathing to absolute stillness was what brought me back to wakefulness. I glanced to my left and found two eyes staring back at me with fear unmistakable even in the darkness.

  She was worried I was unnerved by her.

  The truth was that I wasn’t particularly bothered by it once I had understood about it. Instead, in my mostly asleep state before, the sudden change to not breathing had made me think something was wrong, that she needed assistance, that I needed to act. My body had roused me to help her.

  Now, though, with full cognition of what was going on, I knew the only help she needed was acceptance. I didn’t know the whole truth of her history, but it was quite clear that she wasn’t happy being a vampire. She was very obviously concerned about how it affected her relationship with us. Hell, one of her first comments that first morning I met her had been about how she believed that both vampires and lawyers weren’t trustworthy. It was framed as from Aisling, but Evgenia didn’t contest it, either.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how I had gotten here. I had three lovers, committed together with me for the rest of their lives, and they had encouraged me to court another and give a tentative invitation to a fifth. I had a confused vampire clinging to me, uncomfortable in her own skin and projecting that fear onto us. Maybe Zoey was right, and I was just terrible at saying no because every instinct in my body was to try and hug Zenya closer, to emphasize that I didn’t find her inhuman physiology offensive.

  I couldn’t do that, though. Zoey had one of my arms, and Sam was pressing my other into Zenya’s back. I simply rubbed my fingers along Zenya’s shoulder, stroking the soft silk nightie as her eyes met mine in the darkness. And then, when I felt myself succumbing to the soothing feeling of the rhythm I had set and could no longer fight my drooping eyelids, I leaned my face over and nuzzled it against the top of her head, falling asleep to hints of whichever conditioner the vampire preferred to use. It was going to take me more than one night to grow used to her completely still, unbreathing body against mine, but my final thoughts were of wanting to get the chance to.

  ~*~*~*~

  “My saliva,” was the answer to the question Antonin asked.

  “You want to test what, drakeling?” was the question.

  “But, we know how it works. You apply it to the site of the trauma or ingest it for chronic injuries and illnesses, and it returns the patient to a healthy state,” was Antonin’s response.

  “Right,” I replied. “But how? How does it actually work? Are there limitations to what it can heal? I’ve seen it close cuts in seconds — what’s the limit to its near instantaneous healing, and why are chronic injuries healed over time? Can it reduce allergies? What about chronic conditions that aren’t from injuries, like type one diabetes? The fact that it fixed Beth’s eyes suggests it could heal a non-functioning pancreas, but we don’t know.

  “And then, how does it affect different people? We know what it does to dragons. We know what it does to mundane humans and wizards. Elves? Dwarves? Goblins? Dryads? Arachnae? What about the undead? I’ve seen it heal Evgenia, but what about ghosts? How do I apply it to something incorporeal? How about weres? I’ve used it on them, but do we know how it heals injuries between their shifting forms? There are questions to be answered here, Antonin, and I have been stumbling blindly enough through this world as it is.”

  “Why are you so interested in this?” he asked bluntly.

  “First and foremost, because I want to sell my saliva. It was suggested that I could begin supplying hospitals and emergency responders with it and basically name my price for however much I could end up providing. Before I do that, though, I want to know exactly what I’m selling. I want to be able to go to whatever skeptical, scrupulous administrator comes to me with questions before they’ll sign off on the purchase and show them that I’ve done my due diligence and have something that isn’t merely a myth. I’m not selling snake oil — okay, maybe literally I am, but not with that meaning — so I want to have the proof to counteract any reluctance the fact that I’m a dragon might induce.

  “Secondly, I gave Evgenia a flask full of it, enchanted to keep it fresh for as long as she needs it.”

  “The vampire needs help healing?”

  “Yes. She has an aversion to blood, and I haven’t asked more questions about why. But, I wanted to know what the long-term effects of exposure were because I’ve given her a supply. Obviously, I can get some information from Sam, Beth, and Zoey, but they’re not undead.”

  “What do I get out of running this for you?” he asked bluntly.

  “Saliva was the most obvious answer I had ready. If there’s something beyond saliva for your own use and the value inherent to the knowledge, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”

  He stroked his chin.

  “Full access to the medical records of your werewolf.”

  “Why?” I responded.

  “Because I’ve heard through the grapevine that she’s had some abnormalities they don’t understand, but they won’t release the information to me, even though Aisling ordered them to cooperate with my efforts to both teach you and understand you. ‘Outside of my operational scope,’ they replied, as though understanding how you’ve interacted with your mates can just be ignored because her salary is paid by their department. She could release the information to me voluntarily, and we could simply move on.”

  “I can’t offer you that,” I replied, having thought about the question more as he offered his explanation.

  “And why not?”

  “Because it’s not mine to offer, Antonin. You’re not asking for something from me. You’re asking for something from Zoey that isn’t mine to offer you.”

  “You could—”

  “I could go and ask and put her in the terrible position of either agreeing to let me use her as payment for something minor or to have to tell me that she isn’t comfortable sharing her personal information. I’m not going to ask her to tell me no to something I don’t agree with. You can ask her, but I will not be the messenger, and I won’t be framing it as if I need it to do something I want. I’m not going to push on that emotional lever. Find something else.”

  “Hmm,” the old elf mused. “That is a reasonable response, drakeling. I suppose I should expect no less from you. It does put me in a bit of a bind, though. Does the reasoning apply similarly to inviting a colleague of mine to examine Beth’s warding?”

  I inhaled and had to think about it. “I don’t know. If it were just you, I would say it feels different. It would still be her decision, and therefore not particularly suitable as my payment to you for helping me, but since it is something that is new from our introduction to this world and we’re trying to understand it as best we can, it feels less personal to her — less invasive to share with you. At least it does to me. She may have her own opinion. I’m open to having that discussion with her the next time we have a lesson, but I don’t think it should be used as a payment, particularly since she could simply say no, and then you’re out compensation.”

  “I figured as much,” he sighed.

  We sat in silence for a few more seconds, and I focused on the magic he was teaching me. Throughout the conversation, he was having me conjure an illusion while he tried to break it. I had struggled the first few times — given that illusions were his natural area of talent, and he had hundreds of years of experience, I was at a natural disadvantage initially.

  Of course, that initial experience disadvantage quickly waned when I figured that I could simply be less elegant than he was. Antonin’s illusions were precise, framed perfectly for his target, and perfectly wasteless. He was like a modern graphics engine, only using resources on what his target could perceive, making what would show up to them as flawless as he could.

  In contrast, I was like a rank amateur’s first ignorant attempt at graphics display. I simply made everything. I was making it appear as though we were inside the grotto in the basement of the building for the exercise, and I had modeled each stair in the stairway all the way to the roof simply because they existed in my memory, even if Antonin wouldn’t ever be able to see them from where he was sitting. The stone beneath our chairs had a bottom, even though they were necessarily impossible to see. There wasn’t any reason or benefit to making these things — although, arguably, my lack of experience with illusions meant that it took less cognitive strain to simply make everything instead of only what would be visible — but the extra mana cost it took to maintain them as a part of the illusion was negligible to me. I was the supercomputer that could simply render the entire level all at once, and when a more experienced programmer came over to tell me it wasn’t the best practice to use system resources like that, I could simply respond with, “But I’ve got another four cores just idling if I don’t.”

  Antonin wasn’t content to simply sit with my lesson, though. He was an active participant, or perhaps antagonist, in the illusionary practice. Instead of merely trying to perceive his way through the illusion, he did things like conjure his own mist within my illusion, making me think about how the water would settle on the stone and on us and how the light would be distorted and reflect, and how it would smell, taste, and feel. He moved various summoned lights around the area, forcing me to deal with the reflections and shadows intermingling with his attempts to break the illusion.

  “Unless you’ve given someone the idea that they’re in an illusion,” he said after explaining where some of my shadows had given away that they weren’t real, “they won’t pick up on details like that. One or two missteps won’t be noticed by all but the most observant and vigilant targets. But you need the practice in order to make sure that you’re only making minimal errors, even on the fly. The average person won’t notice that the edges of your shadows aren’t flickering because the open flame that is supposed to be casting them instead acts like a static lightbulb, especially if you don’t give them time to dwell on it. They won’t notice if what is supposed to be satin actually feels like silk from your memories. They won’t notice if the whole milk they’re drinking in your illusion tastes like your memory of 2%. But if you give them a dozen of those little hints, they’ll feel that something is off and may get inquisitive.

  “So, they’re unlikely to actively try to break it, like I am. But you need the practice in order to respond and react to what they do so that things continue appearing mundane to them.”

  “When am I going to ever need this?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ve been instructed to teach you, and this is what I’m good at. I couldn’t find another instructor with availability this week, so we are working on your illusions because we can. And because it’s so very rare that I get to go up against someone of my own capabilities.”

  “Surely I’m not—”

  “No, drakeling. I can see things you’ve missed. But you clearly have potential, and you have the resources to not need to worry about practicing exhausting you. You have the resources to allow me to practice myself, something I haven’t felt the need or desire to do in a long time.”

  “Is this what you want, then?”

  He smiled smugly. “No, drakeling, because I can simply tell you to show up and do this without having it be considered payment. No, this isn’t it. But I won’t pretend like it has no value to me. Nothing else particularly comes to mind, so I’ll ask you to do a favor for me.”

  “A favor? I’m afraid I’ll need a little more information than that.”

  “Of course. My third cousin came to the States long before I did. I owe him several favors, too. One of his hobbies is rearing racing animals of both magical and mundane varieties. He owns a farm west of here, a little more than an hour’s drive, and he’s having new facilities installed there to expand his capacity. He asked for my help in giving them a little bit of a magical touch.”

  “And that’s what you want me to do in your stead?”

  Antonin smirked but shook his head. “No, drakeling. You don’t yet have the precision to do that. I would like you to come to do the heavy lifting so that I can perform the magical installation. If Samantha would like to come to watch either of us, and perhaps to get some instruction from me about the comforts that you might desire having done in your own home someday, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

  I smirked in return. “I thought I was supposed to be your apprentice?”

  “Ahh, drakeling, you are. Both of you are, in different ways.”

  “So, labor on your cousin’s farm and you’ll organize and run a broad study on my saliva and teach Sam a few things about magical amenities?”

  “Yes.”

  “Makes me wonder how much labor is actually involved if it’s worth it to you, but I’ll gladly take that deal.”

  “A lot,” Antonin admitted freely. “He was going to hire a team of dwarves to help him. Getting your labor instead means I can cross one of the favors I owe him off my list, presuming your work is acceptable. Now, look at how the fog obscures the light as I pass it through. You seem to have a very simple mental on-and-off approach, where the light is either on this side of it or on the far side of it, with no gradual shift over time. It should look something more like this.”

  The lesson continued for another few hours, as Antonin enjoyed being able to flex his mental muscles in a safe environment. When he was satisfied sharing his experience with me and simply wanted me to continue practicing maintaining an illusion, I brought up another topic I had questions about.

  “Can I ask your opinion on something political?” I asked as we watched the zeppelins arrive and depart with the gently blowing winds atop Thunder Bluff.

  Antonin was distracted somewhat by the landscape I had conjured. “This is a terrible place for a city. Where do they get their fresh water? Where do they grow their food? It seems far too easy to besiege. Two puny little elevators handle all of the foot traffic?”

  “It’s from a game, and logistics were much lower on the designers’ priorities than impressive visuals and unique appearances were. Will it trouble you if I ask a personal question?”

  He shook his head. “Do their enemies not have flying capabilities themselves? There are no defenses for that.”

  “I think most of the enemies were land-based — centaurs and gnolls, I think — and not particularly organized, though I think there were harpies around, too. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any thoughts about the labor market, given your history here.”

  “Labor market?” he asked for clarification, glancing away from the illusion to look at me. After a second, it seemed to connect for him. “Ahh. That labor market. They reached out to you?”

  “Not this time, actually. They did that a while ago, and I simply ignored them. At the time, I had bigger things on my mind and was so overwhelmed with everything changing that I simply ignored them. I saw their offer and wanted nothing to do with what I saw, so I put them out of my mind. Now, though, I’ve been brought into contact with them against my wishes. I’m going to meet with Aisling and make her give me an explanation, but before I do that, I want an opinion from outside my household. I was hoping to get your thoughts on it as a set of eyes that have quite a different set of experiences in this world than I do.”

  “Hmm,” he mused initially. “In the past, they were useful. They were a neutral connection that provided skilled labor between regions, between people isolated by politics and language and religion and knowledge. They served as a bridge for people with skillsets common where they lived but that were rare in the world overall — dwarves from continental Europe looking to do steelwork in the new world, eastern shrine spirits looking to find a church to oversee in Europe, and so on.

  “Nowadays, there are plenty of other methods for skilled labor to find their way to the projects they’re suited for if they want to find work. They’ve shifted their practices in the last hundred years, functioning as a pseudo debt management agency. They’ll pay your immediate debts and find you long-term employment to repay them over decades. Remove you from your old life and old problems to ensure you can be productive.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that isn’t just a polite veneer over systemic slavery?”

  “Yes, mostly, drakeling. For the most part, the system is voluntary.”

  “So, it’s not slavery, it’s indentured servitude.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m indifferent to it,” the old elf replied with a sigh. “I come from a different world, James. This is the most polite and toothless version of something that was prevalent in both of our worlds when I was born. There are safeguards in place, perhaps not enough to satisfy you, but enough to satisfy those of us who have seen, lived beside, and sometimes experienced versions of this ourselves. Aisling has done what she felt was right to keep the process as safe and well-intentioned as it could be.

  “It is slavery, in some ways. But, James, most of us live a lot longer than mundane humans do. Trading twenty years to live another hundred without debt, with experience and references, with someone else managing your finances so that you’re ensured to have a solid start at the end? That doesn’t sound like a terrible exchange. Tell me, James, honestly: how much money were you trading for your education before you awakened as a dragon? How much debt were you accruing to have a better future? How long were you committing yourself to work for in order to afford the schooling you were receiving, to afford a home, to afford a vehicle, to afford everything you wanted in life?”

  “It felt different,” I replied solemnly.

  “Indeed. I’m not saying otherwise. I’m not suggesting you blindly accept it and bypass talking to Aisling about how you feel. I am just saying that it’s in an unpleasant grey area that most of the people in power, who are from my time, if not older, feel has been brought to an acceptable place. Talk to her. Voice your opinion. Do what you feel you need to. Don’t be surprised when she remains unmoved, as even if she feels personally swayed by your words, there are many moving pieces she has to balance. There are times she has to permit distasteful things to make more impactful progress in other areas.”

  “Alright, let me ask this then: Isn’t it just illegal? I can’t say I know the exact circumstances, but I know from my interest in the history of baseball that Koufax and Drysdale got the money they wanted from the Dodgers in the 60s in exchange for not challenging the contract rules at the time in court. Personal contracts couldn’t be extended beyond seven years in California to prevent predatory movie contracts or something like that. So how on earth is this even allowed, Antonin? Ignore the obvious moral issue I have with it for the moment — doesn’t Pennsylvania have some kind of labor law that would make this illegal? I know there are powerful people who benefit from it, but surely someone has an incentive to change it, don’t they?”

  “The answer’s simple, James. The mundane laws don’t apply to us.”

  “That’s how law enforcement was permitted to tell my parents I’m dead.”

  “Among other questionable decisions, yes. There are limits to how we can influence the world so as to put us on a level playing field — that is, to put us in the magical world on an even playing field with ourselves and to control the level of exploitation of the mundane world. Mundane humans, at least those ignorant of our world, are not permitted to be entrapped in the system you’ve been invited to use, for example. There are significantly more protections for those who are both residents of Aisling’s realm and U.S. or Canadian citizens, and there are a number of exit valves designed to allow for abusers of the system to be removed. You’ll need to talk to Aisling, or perhaps Evgenia, about the specifics.”

  “I figured you’d say that.”

  “Unfortunately, while a scholar, I’m no legal expert, drakeling. Evgenia was a mundane attorney, though she is likely familiar enough with the magical laws to give you some generalized ideas.”

  “But,” I concluded, somewhat disappointedly, “you’re saying that the average denizen of Aisling’s realm doesn’t find this objectionable.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Exploitative?”

  “Not any more than anything else we partake in with magic, no. No one would say that it isn’t at least somewhat perfidious, but not an order of magnitude more than anything else we permit.”

  “So there won’t be many who support me if I challenge this,” I stated.

  “I think that it’s unlikely that there will be any who rally to your banner regardless of how just the cause objectively is, simply because of who you are and what you remind them of. There will be significant questioning of your motives from the masses regardless of what those who know you proclaim. In fact, insistence that you have noble intentions by those around you will simply have them branded as tainted, bought, or otherwise untrustworthy narrators.

  “Still, there is no reason for you to do things through public discourse. You can speak with Aisling at nearly any time you desire. She will, so long as you remain nearby and mostly docile — which isn’t an insult, especially given your peers — likely be open to discussion about anything. Now that it has been shown that you will be influential among the dragons, not just as a dragon among the peons, she will be interested in remaining in your esteem. Don’t forget that.”

  “I thought you worked for her,” I replied hesitantly.

  “I do. But I am not her. My tasking is to teach a dragon magic and get him to be a useful member of her realm. Getting you to see your position as accurately as I feel is useful is something I will endeavor to do, too. She knew what she was doing when she gave you to me. She knew I would, in time, push you against her when you felt you wanted to. You will find a reason eventually. You need to know that you can do so to her face.”

  “Why?”

  “Drakeling, if you felt strongly about something and yet felt you had no outlet for that, what would you do?”

  “Get on with my life?”

  “Perhaps you would, for a time. Your general agreeableness would make you question why no one else found it objectionable. But eventually, you would return to your conclusion and decide that, with your newfound powers as a dragon, you could melt the system down if it wasn’t made in an image you deemed worthy of protecting. You want this system changed. I want you to pressure her to be better, however you feel you need to. And she wants you to know that you can do that with her instead of through her corpse.”

  “Dragons aren’t regarded highly,” I replied glumly.

  “Dragons. Suddenly all-powerful twenty somethings. Men who have lost that which they held dear and now feel they have nothing more to lose. Take your choice.”

  “I have a lot to lose.”

  “Aye. From where I’m sitting, that’s what it looks like. But you did just find out that your family believes you to be deceased. There are those who would take that news poorly.”

  “I’m not happy about it. I have a new family here, though. Not that they’ve replaced my parents for me, but I’m not interested in throwing either set away. With one taken from me, I’m going to cling my damnedest onto the second one.”

  “As you should, drakeling. It’s a terrible injustice, in some ways, your ascension.” He shook his head slightly, then continued, “Not that I think any of the women in your life would agree with me. Some sour, I suppose, to make the sweet stand out. Talk to Aisling, James. Ask for what you need to know, tell her how it makes you feel, and ask for her to change it. Just don’t expect those changes to actually happen, and especially not anytime soon. She has a thousand spinning plates in the air; altering one takes care.”

  As I let my illusion fall and gathered my belongings to leave the lesson, I expressed my disappointment that my expectations had been confounded. “Honestly, Antonin, I thought you were going to tell me that I was full of myself and needed to let this go. Or that, perhaps, I was right and this was a problem for everyone. I wasn’t expecting you to say that it might be a problem and that I should continue the course.”

  “I’m no political scholar, either, drakeling. I cannot tell you exactly what is right and what is unjust. Only what is possible, what is historical precedent, and what is fictional. If you want to change the status quo, talk to Aisling. Or gather enough wealth and acquire the companies operating these services. Or get your werewolf to instruct you in covert operations and damage their properties in this country in the dark of night. You have options, drakeling. Find the one you can stomach.”

  I pondered Antonin’s words as I returned to the apartment in silence, as I had gone to the lesson alone. That did, unfortunately, mean that I returned home exhausted, magically and mentally. I had learned some with the drow, but I hadn’t been rejuvenated by my loves as I had practiced with them.

  Beth and Cynthia, thankfully, made dinner — with Cynthia borrowing a crystal’s worth of energy to try and see what happened if she attempted to replicate Sam’s techniques.

  She wasn’t as successful as her daughter, which, frankly, I found rather relieving. It was comforting to see someone else, particularly someone as experienced and comfortable with manipulating magic as Cynthia, struggle to repeat Sam’s deeds in the kitchen. Sam somehow figured out how to make our food taste amazing immediately, and yet, when I tried, I overpowered everything. Cynthia’s attempt had a different issue — the mana didn’t really affect the taste at all. None of us could determine which was the batch of pasta she had made with extra mana and which was the one made with more effort put into the seasoning. Both of them simply tasted like decent, not amazing, dishes.

  And then I was in bed.

  With my three mates and Zenya. Zoey was behind me, nuzzling her face against the back of my neck. My arms were around Zenya, cautiously holding her against me as she settled into her stillness, trying my best to appreciate how soft, cool, and refreshing her skin felt against me without allowing lust to creep into me. Surrounded by my mates, feeling Zoey’s breasts pressed into my back and pushing me forward against Zenya’s body, I was fighting a losing battle.

  And then, in front of the vampire, in an attempt to convince her that she was welcome here, Beth was curled up. I could feel her feet wrapping around the vampire’s long legs, feel her fingers brush against me as her hands wrapped around Zenya’s hips, and feel the vampire’s midnight hair moving slightly as Beth placed her head against Zenya’s collarbone, her tired exhales blowing Zenya’s hair toward me.

  I could feel that Beth wanted Zenya here. Beth wanted her to feel like she belonged. Beth didn’t want Zenya to feel doubts about us wanting her here. My sunshine wanted to shine a light on Zenya.

  She wanted the vampire to have a family she belonged in — the same one she had found for herself.