“But you think I’m wrong?” I asked without moving my lips from the smile I’d presented to the camera.

“Not so much wrong as perhaps imperceptive.”

There was a click from the camera, and the photographer emerged. He got out another large, glass square plate and swapped it into the camera. I turned my head to look at Terrin. “Imperceptive? So you believe that all the stuff here, at the GothFaire, is real?”

“Yes.” He didn’t look at all disconcerted by admitting that. His face held the same placid, pleasant expression as it had all evening.

“Hold the pose, please.”

We held our pose. I waited until the photographer emerged a second time from the depths of the camera cape and rose when he told us that the photos would be ready in fifteen minutes. We exited the booth just as an older couple entered.

“So, you believe in that?” I asked, pointing at the booth next to us.

“Scrying? Of course. Have you ever had someone scry for you? It’s fascinating, truly fascinating.”

“I didn’t even know what it was until the first day here, and then I had to ask the lady who does it.”

“It’s a shame the booth is closed, or I’d treat you to a session.” We strolled along the one long arm of the Faire. I noticed that Terrin didn’t take my hand again and damned myself for questioning him about his beliefs.

And yet… dammit, I was trying to decide if I wanted to pursue a relationship with him, and in order to do that, I had to know if we were going to be compatible. Which is why I nodded to the booth across the broad center aisle and asked, “That doesn’t strike you as just a wee bit too Harry Potter?”

“The spells and charms booth, you mean?” He gave it due consideration. “I see where you might think so, but I blame popular culture for that more than the woman who runs that stall selling tangible forms of magic.”

“Uh… yeah.” I had many other things to say but kept them behind my teeth.

“The proof is all around you, my dear, if only you choose to see it. For instance…” He gestured toward something behind me. I turned to see a tall man with shoulder-length black hair striding across the open space of the center aisle, obviously heading for the parking area. Next to him was another man, also dark-haired, who kept glancing around as if he was looking for someone. “Dragons.”

I stopped admiring the way the first man filled out his black jeans and turned back to Terrin with an obvious gawk plastered all over my face. “What about them?”

“Those two men,” Terrin said, gesturing again toward the two men in black. “They are dragons. Black dragons, I’d say, although they could be ouroboros. I’m afraid I’m not terribly up-to-date on the happenings within the weyr since it was destroyed.”

“And a weyr is…?”

“The collective group of dragon septs.”

“Of course it is. So, you’re saying—” I stopped, shook my head, then pointed at the two men in question as they disappeared behind the booths. “You’re saying those two guys—those two perfectly normal-looking guys—are dragons? The big-scaly-wings-and-tail-and-eats-medieval-virgins dragons?”

“I’m sure the virgin sacrifices stopped a long time ago,” he said gently. “But to answer your question, yes, they are dragons.”

“They looked like men,” I couldn’t help but point out.

“If you had the choice of appearing in dragon form or that of a human, which would you choose?”

He had me there. “Point taken.”

“So you see? There is more to be seen than what’s on the surface. The same can be said for auras.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, unable to keep the words from escaping my mouth. It was pretty clear to me that he wasn’t going to be boyfriend material. He had the right to believe what he wanted, of course, but I could see that there would be countless arguments and debates about the differences in our respective points of view. Opposites may attract, but that didn’t mean they could live together in harmony.

His eyes twinkled at me, positively twinkled at me when he dug into his jeans’ pocket before holding out his hand, palm up. Lying on it was a gold and beigey-white object. “Still don’t believe me, hmm? Perhaps I can change that. Would you like to see some magic, Aoife? Real magic?”

I looked from the ring that lay on his hand and back to his eyes. The latter were still full of amusement. “You have a magic ring.”

Disbelief fairly dripped off the words.

“I do. In fact, I have no doubt that it is this very ring that has drawn the pair of dragons to the area. You may touch it if you like. It won’t harm you—since it was remade, it has developed what, for lack of better words, might be described as a mind of its own. It cannot be used if it does not wish the user to do so and thus far has shown affinity with very few people. Its original creator was one, and the woman who re-formed it is another, but she has no wish to use it and turned it over to me for safekeeping. I’ve been trying to find out if it is simply inactive or choosy about who it reacts to.”

I took the ring, of course. I like jewelry, and it looked old and worn, and I wanted to get a good close look at it, but I really didn’t expect anything magical to happen the second I touched it.

And nothing did.

“I guess I won’t be joining those two special people,” I said, running my fingers around the outside of the ring. It appeared to be made of ivory, or something like that, with the outer edges bound in gold. There was nothing inscribed on it, and no design scratched into the ivory, but it still felt nice in my hand. “Wouldn’t the person who created it want it back?”

“The originator?” A fleeting expression of amusement passed over Terrin’s face. “I’m quite sure he would give much to have it in his possession again, but that would not be at all wise.”

“Oh?” I slid the ring onto my finger and admired it. “He’s not a giant orange eyeball, is he?”

“Nothing so dramatic to look at,” Terrin said with a little laugh, glancing over my shoulder when, behind me, someone gave a little screech. It was impossible to tell if it was just some kids being kids or someone who just discovered what a Prince Albert was. Given that the piercing tent was down that way, I thought nothing of it. “But nonetheless, extremely dangerous.”