Bastian swam back to consciousness, found blissful contentment in Saina’s presence and the harmony of his hoard, and went immediately back to sleep.

The second time he came awake, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him, and he recognized that the smell of the food she was holding was what had woken him.

She smiled when he stirred.

“I thought that something tasty from Chef might coax you back to the waking world,” Saina said.

Bastian groaned as he sat up. His wounds had all healed into fresh scars, but he felt very much as if he’d been tenderized by something large and unfriendly.

And he was famished.

Saina fed him the first few bites, and he could feel his energy begin to return, rising with his appetite. It was some sort of creamy, herb-flavored pasta, with thick, homemade noodles.

He took the fork from her and fed himself when she seemed too slow.

“You slept for two days,” she told him, handing him a tumbler of cool water to wash it down with. “But you certainly look better for it.”

Bastian downed the water and handed the glass back. “I should have known better than to challenge Keylor.”

Saina balled up a fist and hit him in the shoulder. “Damn straight.”

It didn’t hurt as much as Bastian had feared.

“And what was with having a knock-down, dragon-out fight? I thought you dragons just listed your hoards to each other and the winner was the one worth more!”

Bastian snorted. “Maybe that’s what those anemic European dragons do, but New World dragons have never had to worry as much about collateral.” He looked around his hoard, feeling ashamed. “And I would have lost that fight, anyway.”

“Because Keylor has gold?” Saina scoffed. She ran her hand along the sea glass that hung above the bed, making it chime. “Your hoard is tuned.”

She touched a shell nestled in the netting above the headboard. “You have a perfect unbroken ammonoid shell.”

She rolled off the bed and danced across the room to the anchor. “This anchor is from the Morning Star, lost north of Australia in 1814. The wreck was never found!”

“Keylor wouldn’t even know what to do if I started listing these,” Bastian laughed. “He’d sprain something laughing.”

“His loss,” Saina said with a shrug, returning to the bed.

“You are the crown of my fortune,” Bastian said, reaching for her.

She came willingly into his arms, tickling his neck with her kiss.

“Do you accept that you are my mate now?” He had to ask.

She drew back and gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know about mates,” she confessed. “It seems like a far-fetched fairy tale to me. But…” she placed her hand on Bastian’s chest. “I cannot deny that you are a part of me. The very best part.”

Bastian put hands on either side of her face and kissed her. “My treasure,” he said happily.

He kissed her until his muscles ached, then drew back. “What are we going to do about your Voice?” he asked soberly.

Her eyes grew shadowed. “I’ll think of something,” she vowed. “I have to.”

Bastian brushed her hair back from her face. “We’ll think of something,” he said confidently.

Saina’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Your parents, they are very strict, and honorable?”

“There’s a reason that draconian is a term for being harsh and exacting,” Bastian said dryly. “I think that the only thing my parents value more than honor is the nobility they lack.”

“They aren’t royalty? I sort of assumed that because of their edict for your return, they were trying to keep their lines clean.”

“Rich, of course, but neither has ever really forgiven themselves for their own low origins. I guess they hoped to gain some sort of royal stink for themselves if I married into it.”

“Intriguing,” Saina said. “But I’m not sure how to work that to our advantage. Now, when you were disgraced, did you forfeit your hoard?”

Bastian gave a dry bark of a laugh. “I would have, but no one wanted it.”

“That’s more useful,” she said thoughtfully.

“What do you have in mind?” Bastian asked suspiciously.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said slyly. “But I think we may need Chef’s help.”