Bastian knew he’d made an error of exhaustion, just as he turned too late to protect his neck and saw Keylor lunge for him, teeth bared.

Then, finally, the substance they’d put in the goldshot brick that Saina had scraped together from her sodden suitcase took hold and Keylor was an ineffective human, surprised and dismayed by his unplanned shift.

As Keylor fell from the height of a dragon, Bastian twisted to catch him in one clawed foot.

The temptation to squeeze the life from his brother was as painfully keen as his desire for the goldshot that he still reeked of. Keylor had tried to hurt his mate, and had held her dearest relative hostage. He deserved death. He deserved painful death.

But Bastian uncurled his claws and put Keylor on the ground, then shifted to face him.

“What are you doing, brother-not?”

As a human, Keylor was less impressive than he was as a dragon; a pasty, thin man with an unpleasant sneer and a tremor in his voice.

“I have no taste for your death,” Bastian said gently. “I know that goldshot can make you do vile things, and you have already been stripped of your hoard and your family. I know how that feels.”

Keylor gnashed his teeth, hunched himself over miserably, then launched himself desperately at Bastian’s face with an incoherent cry of rage. His eyes were still red with the goldshot, even in human form.

Bastian, with the human muscles and reflexes of a swimmer, easily backhanded him away into a wall, where he crumpled into unconsciousness.

Saina’s voice had died to a cough; the courtyard was filled with acrid dragonsmoke.

Bastian turned to limp towards her, and glowing eyes appeared through the smoke above her curvy form.

Finish your bargaining, Bastian said to them. Saina’s Voice shall be returned to her safely and we will leave you in peace.

He wondered at the authority in his own mindvoice. His parents had always awed and intimidated him, but now he found that they occupied no place in his thoughts. Only Saina mattered, and he wanted nothing but to turn his back for the final time on the place that had taught him only his weaknesses.

What did you do to Keylor? his mother asked. Was there concern in her voice? Did she love her children, or were they only parts of her own glory, little more than an extension of their hoard, to be judged for their value and nobility?

He wanted a drug, we happened to have one that would constrain him to his human form for a time. Bastian had no desire to explain that the drug had been liberated from the zoo prison of an insane shifter collector who had been hell bent on adding Bastian himself to his collection.

Trickery, his father rumbled, and Bastian found himself bracing for the pang of guilt he should feel for disappointing his progenitor. It was oddly missing. Perhaps he was more tired than he realized.

All an aside to the deal at hand, Saina swiftly interceded. I offered you my exposure of your son’s true nature in exchange for my Voice.

They returned their attention to her as Bastian staggered the final steps to her side and took her hand in his own.

Riches are a more standard exchange for dragons, his father told her coldly. There is no value in your part of this exchange.

I base my offer on your past behavior, Saina said with no kindness. You cast out your eldest son for something as trivial as compassion. Clearly you value your family reputation above any treasure.

You are blackmailing us, his mother exclaimed. You are threatening to tell people about Keylor’s dishonor!

Bastian felt Saina’s grim smile. Blackmail is such an ugly word.

He tightened his hand in hers. This was the part of the plan with the most uncertainty.

You are a remarkable woman, his father said thoughtfully, and Bastian relaxed. They were impressed by Saina, as they should be. It is a pity you are not a royal dragon. That would simplify this situation considerably.

There is a story that sirens were once dragons, his mother added, cocking her head at Saina as she lowered her face to inspect her more closely. Are you royalty among your kind?

Saina looked back at the dragons without flinching or stepping back, despite her small comparative size and their impolite crowding. We have a similar origin story, she conceded. But sirens do not have royalty.

Then she laughed dryly. But my name does mean ‘princess’ in Hindi.

Bastian’s parents exchanged a significant look and a private exchange, then turned to Saina.

We would accept this as fulfilling the terms of the contract, his father said proudly.

Bastian had been trying to decide which of his shoulders hurt worst, and whether he could gracefully go sit down on the bench to recover for a moment while his parents treated with Saina, then realized where the conversation had moved.

He blinked up at his father. You… you’d take me back?

Even as he tried to wrap his tired mind around the idea, Saina spoke.

You can’t have him.

She was drawn up to her full height, tiny against his monstrous parents, and she brought them to silence with her statement.

Bastian is mine, by bonds more powerful than family blood or title, Saina snarled. He is better than any of you, by any standards of human or dragon or siren, and you may not have him. He has a family of his own making, in a place that accepts him as he is, where he has a hoard that puts your gaudy pretension to shame, and if you try to take him from me and from his true family, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and sing the sky down on you.

Her words echoed in their minds and in their ears. Bastian was not sure when she had started singing the words out loud, but the magic in the courtyard was tangible and full of anger.

She took two firm steps forward. I came here to treat for my Voice, taken from me by your dishonorable son, and you try to take from me the treasure that you discarded in foolishness. I will give you one chance and only one to redeem yourselves.

Bastian’s parents gaped at her.

Give. Me. My. Voice.