The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

by Katie MacAlister

  The Italian dragon hesitated for a moment before saying, “It is not for the weyr to interfere in sept business, but there is tradition to be considered. I don’t think there is precedence for a wyvern simply disappearing with no claim of his death. Is it your contention that Constantine Norka is not dead?”

  “It is not,” Sial said firmly. “Were he alive, he would be here before you. We have sought him for a century, but we have come to the much-regretted conclusion that he met with harm, either from another sept or from an accident that was beyond our knowing.”

  Silence filled the room for the count of seven. “As I said, it is not for the weyr to interfere; thus so long as you have the consent of your sept to be named as wyvern, we will so recognize you. How say you, wyverns?”

  The other wyverns murmured their assent.

  “Then Sial Fa’amasino is so named as wyvern of the silver sept. Our last business concerns the silver dragons as well, specifically the attacks made upon members of the sept by ouroboros dragons.”

  “I thought they must be black dragons, but they are not,” the new silver wyvern told the others. “I sent one of my guards to track them after the last attack, and he said their former sept was not discernible without closer contact.”

  “The weyr would recognize Gabriel Tauhou and question him about this,” the blue dragon said politely, obviously giving Sial the opportunity to grant his permission.

  “I didn’t think you guys could be more formal than you are now, but I see I was wrong,” I told them as Sial graciously allowed Gabriel to speak before the weyr.

  “Where did the attacks originate?” the blue wyvern asked him.

  “Cape Town, in the Transvaal. With my father’s help.” Gabriel nodded toward the small collection of people who sat along one wall. One of the men, I noticed, was dark-skinned and similar in appearance to Gabriel. He sat with two other men, all of whom watched the proceedings with grim expressions. “We tracked them northward, to Vereeniging, but lost their trail.” Gabriel slid an unreadable glance toward Chuan Ren. “That’s where we found two red dragons, obviously following a similar track.”

  Chuan Ren pursed her lips for a moment before answering with a languid wave of her hand, “The red dragons have also been attacked by these ouroboros ones, but we do not go running to the weyr to solve our problems.”

  Sial stiffened, but said nothing, although ire flashed for a moment in his eyes.

  “And did you find where the ouroboros were based?” the blue wyvern asked.

  One shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “No. My men lost them in the bush as well. It matters not. We have taken steps to protect ourselves from attacks by any sept.”

  Drake’s gaze flashed to her. She smiled at him, a cat-with-a-giant-bowl-of-cream sort of smile. What on earth did that mean? I added that to my mental notes to ask Aisling.

  “If you are implying that we welcome a war with the red dragons, I will assure you yet again that such an assumption is false,” Drake said.

  “Bah! You do everything you can to instigate a war with us!” The smile faded from Chuan Ren’s face. “We are not stupid, nor are we blind to your machinations!”

  “What machinations?” Drake demanded. “State just one thing that the green dragons have done to harm your sept!”

  “Oh, lord, this is going to take forever,” I muttered to myself, and turned to look for a chair since this vision was evidently going to take a bit.

  Kaawa sat behind me, separated from Gabriel’s father, dressed in a flowing robe and matching turban, her hands clasped in her lap as she watched the sárkány. Another woman sat on her far side, similarly dressed, and just as obviously a member of the silver sept. Next to them was a little girl of about four who sat in a stiff blue dress with a ruffled white pinafore, her black hair twisted into two stubby little braids, her bright silver eyes marking her as another silver dragon.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I sit next to you,” I told Kaawa, taking the chair on her free side.

  “No, of course not,” she murmured, causing me to freeze for a moment before looking at her in astonishment.

  “What’s that?” the other woman asked her, leaning toward us, speaking in a soft voice so as not to disturb the sárkány.

  “You can hear me?” I asked Kaawa. “You can see me?”

  “What was what?” Kaawa asked her friend in a whisper.

  “You said ‘Of course not.’ ”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I say that?”

  My spirits fell. She couldn’t hear me after all. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Or was it? I leaned close to her, my mouth just a few inches from her ear. “Gabriel looks much better with his goatee.”

  “I told him not to shave it off. It gives him such character, but—” Kaawa froze, blinking wildly as she slowly looked around. I waved, but her gaze went right through me.

  “What’s wrong?” her friend asked, poking her on the arm.

  “I don’t quite know,” Kaawa answered.

  The little girl slid off her seat and said something in a language I didn’t understand, tugging on the arm of the woman I assumed was her mother.

  “Hush, Maata. Kaawa is not feeling well.”

  “Maata?” I grinned at the little girl as she, looking incredibly bored, climbed back onto her seat and, with a defiant look at her mother, stuck her thumb in her mouth. I laughed, thinking that even then Gabriel’s guard showed signs of doing just as she pleased.

  Kaawa shot a look to the side nearest me even as she assured her friend in whispers that she was fine.

  I turned back to the dragons, momentarily distracted when Chuan Ren leaped to her feet, yelling something about Drake trying to take things that were not his. Drake, looking bored, crossed his arms and let her rant.

  “Boy, that gets old fast,” I said.

  “Who are you?” Kaawa’s voice was so soft, I almost didn’t hear it.

  I waved a hand in front of her face, but she obviously didn’t see it, and I suspected she heard me only now and again. “It must have something to do with you being a shaman,” I told her. “I’m Ysolde.”

  She heard that all right. She sat up very straight, her eyes wide and staring at nothing in particular. Her friend was busy trying to get Maata to remove her thumb from her mouth, and didn’t hear when Kaawa, speaking without moving her lips, said, “You are a shade?”

  “I’m not dead, no. Well, I was, but then I was resurrected. It’s a long story.”

  Her expression didn’t change, her gaze not moving one whit. Thinking she must not have heard that explanation, I leaned in close and added, “I know you, Kaawa. You’re my friend.”

  “I will befriend no shade. That way lies madness,” she said simply, and turned to her friend, clearly dismissing me.

  I felt bereft for a moment, separated by time and space from everything going on around me, from the noise and furor of Chuan Ren in full hissy fit as she stormed around the sárkány table, trying to get a rise out of Drake, to the blue wyvern trying to restore order, to Sial as he chimed in when some slurs were evidently cast his way.

  Gabriel turned to share a smile with his mother, immediately looking concerned when she didn’t respond.

  I was alone, separated from the dragons around me by centuries of time and understanding. I shivered, suddenly cold and filled with sadness. I knew I couldn’t change any of the events that would unfold, but that knowledge did little to comfort me. I covered my face with my hands, wishing the vision would end, wishing the noise would stop, needing Baltic to restore order to the world.

  “Why do you weep?” a disembodied voice asked me.

  “All those blue dragons who will die . . . if only I could warn them. If only I could make Kaawa understand me. She could stop it. She could stop it all.”

  “Who is Kaawa?”

  The words were whipped away on the wind almost before I could hear them. I turned toward the voice, the sting of spray making me squint. I was on a ship, strands
of hair flying around me, partially obscuring my view as we plowed through the waves. “What?”

  “I asked you whom you spoke of, and why you are weeping.”

  Baltic’s large body blocked some of the wind and spray, allowing me to wipe my wet face with the edge of my damp cloak. “I wasn’t weeping. I was thinking about retching, but thankfully that seems to have passed.”

  His arms surrounded me, pulling me into the safe haven of his chest. “Our babe is giving you grief again?”

  “Not so much anymore. I thought I would have been horribly sick because of this awful sea, but it seems to make the illness better.”

  “Good. I dislike you feeling unwell and blaming the babe. And me, for putting him in your belly.” His voice was a rumble that started deep in his chest. I turned my face into the soft linen of his tunic, smiling into his collarbone.

  “I didn’t really mean what I said, you know. I’m not sorry that you ever came to my father’s castle, or that I didn’t set you on fire while you were sleeping after the first time you bedded me.”

  Laughter was rich in his voice as he kissed the top of my head and pulled me tighter. “Or geld me with a blunt knife?”

  “Especially not the gelding. In fact”—I wiggled against him, the scent and feel of him doing much to stir my passion—“just the opposite. I don’t suppose you have time for a little dalliance?”

  He pulled back to give me a wicked look. “Are you attempting to seduce me, chérie?”

  “Oh, yes.” I tipped my head back to nip his lower lip. “And to thank you for taking me to England so I may see my parents. My mother will be thrilled to know we are to have a child.”

  His lips thinned for a moment. “Not as thrilled as my father.”

  “Your father is an ass,” I told him, sliding out of his embrace and giving him a come-hither look as I moved toward steps that led down to the cabins.

  “Do you have any idea what would happen if he heard you say that?” Baltic asked, following with a glint of appreciation in his dark eyes. “Heads would roll at the very least.”

  “I prefer something else be rolled,” I said with a hint of a leer as I slipped down the stairs.

  “I have heard that women who are breeding often have unnatural appetites for men. I am pleased that you are experiencing this, although I will remind you that you must not be too inventive with your ways to drive me insane with lust, lest you harm the babe. I insist that you allow me to decide what is safe for you to do, and not try to coerce me into performing intricate acts of lovemaking, as you did last night. Ysolde! Cease that! I just got through telling you that you are not to do that! Or that. For the love of the saints, what are you doing with . . . oh, very well, just this once, but this is the last time, do you hear me? After this, you will do as I say!”

  I giggled at the arrogance in his voice, feeling warm and loved, and pleased with the world despite the many cares that burdened me.

  “You are happy, my love?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said on a breath, snuggling down deeper into the soft warmth of the mattress.

  “As am I. I, too, missed you.”

  Heat started to lick up my back, spreading outward in a slow glow of passion. Warmth nuzzled my neck in a way that left me simultaneously boneless and lit by a fire from within.

  “I have to say, much as I love these visions, the real thing is so much better.”

  “Mmm.” The heat suddenly pulled away from me, leaving me feeling bereft. “Ysolde.”

  “Make love to me,” I pleaded, moving restlessly in the warm cocoon of the bed.

  “Not until you wake up.”

  I opened my eyes to see our bedroom, not the small, dark-paneled cabin of the ship upon which we’d sailed so many hundreds of years ago. “Baltic?”

  “Yes. It is the real me, not the past version, which you seem to be obsessed with watching in moments of lovemaking. And now you demand that you participate in those past moments?” He rolled me over onto my back, all warm, and male, and infinitely desirable. The emotions of the vision lingered enough that I purred as I stroked my hand up his bare chest despite his frown and outrageous accusation.

  “I did participate. We both did, so you can stop looking at me like I’m some sort of Peeping Tom pervert. And besides, I can’t help it. You were extremely sexy, you know.”

  His frown deepened.

  I licked his lower lip. “But now . . . mrowr.”

  “I approve of your mrowr,” he said, letting me kiss him. I pushed him over onto his back, reaching under his pillow as I reveled in the taste and feel of him.

  “Fire?” I murmured, twining my tongue around his. His fingers were busy pushing up the satin of my nightgown, stroking a path up my legs that left me squirming.

  “You have your own—” he started to say, but I wouldn’t let him finish.

  “Fire!”

  He tried to flip me over onto my back, but I held him down. “You are becoming entirely too demanding, mate. And I have been too accommodating. You forget that I am the wyvern.”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten that,” I cooed, nibbling along his jaw. His hands caressed my hips, then moved around to my behind when I bit his earlobe. “Before we died, did I ever tie you up and have my wanton way with you?”

  “I am a wyvern. I am the one who is dominant, not my mate.” He groaned when my hand swept down his chest to his belly at the same time I gently bit the tendons of his neck. “I would not have allowed you to restrain me.”

  “Good. Then this should be a novel experience for you.” I slid back enough for him to see the object I’d pulled out from under the pillow.

  “No,” he said, giving it and me a stern look.

  “Oh, yes, Baltic.”

  “No. Where did you get them?”

  “Pavel’s room.” I looked at the leather-and-sheep’s-wool wrist restraints. “I was looking for . . . er . . . Did you get my text message about Thala?”

  “Yes. I am pleased that you convinced the other mates to go against their wyverns and free her. She’s here?”

  “Yes. She’s . . . uh . . . sleeping,” I answered, thinking about the sleeping aid I’d managed to slip into the beverage she had demanded once she came out of her shock-induced stupor.

  “I will see her in the morning. But first, we have been parted, and I must claim you now.”

  I laughed at the matter-of-fact way he said it. “That’s just exactly what I’m planning, only with a little twist.”

  “What part of ‘I am the wyvern’ do you not understand?” he asked, pinching me on the behind. “I will use the cuffs on you. Perhaps someday I will allow you to reciprocate, but for now—”

  “Oh, no. It’s my idea, so I get to go first.” I wrapped one cuff around his wrist and tried to pull his arm up toward the headboard. It didn’t budge. I looked from the rounded bulge of his bicep to his face. “Please, Baltic? You’re always telling me I’m obsessed with our past sex life. I just want to try something we haven’t done before. I promise you will get great pleasure from it.”

  “I always have great pleasure making love to you,” he pointed out.

  I leaned down and kissed him again, swirling my tongue along his lower lip. “I’ll rouse my dragon fire if you let me do this.”

  He narrowed his lovely dark eyes at me. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed, and reluctantly let me pull his arm upward, over his head. “I am growing too soft with you. I would say that you have no respect for me, but the truth is that you never did. This is the last time, though, mate. I will allow you to have your way in this because you wish to separate your memories of our past from the present, but this is the last time I will be so cooperative.”

  I smiled and dipped my head to swirl my tongue around one pert little nipple that seemed to be begging for just such attention. He sucked in his breath, and quickly I put the other cuff on his wrist, securing that arm, too.

  He looked from one arm to the
other, then to me. “I do not like this. You will hurry and satisfy yourself upon me so that I may claim you as is right and proper.”

  “Oh, I’m going to satisfy more than just me.” I moved off the bed and padded over to a discreet stereo system.

  “First you demand to restrain me, and then you leave? What is this torment?” Outrage dripped off his words as I contemplated a small collection of CDs. I picked out one and popped it on the player, turning back to face him.

  “This, my darling, is Shania Twain. She and I are going to make sure that you’re receptive to all the things I want to do to you.”

  “Music? You desire music now?”

  “We never had music while making love before,” I pointed out, tossing my head as my favorite song started. “It all goes along with things we haven’t done in the past. Did I ever do a striptease for you?”

  “No. I am not aroused by such things, and my old Ysolde would never have lowered herself to attempting to distract me suchly.” His eyes widened as, moving to the bouncy music, I ran my hands down the slinky satin nightgown, mouthing “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” to him as I started to hike the material up my legs. I accompanied the move with a few hip shakes that had his eyebrows raising.

  “Perhaps I was overly hasty in my assessment of your dance,” he finally said, watching with an avid light as I danced closer to him, leaning over his head so my breasts almost popped out of the thin material.

  He tried to reach for me, but Pavel’s cuffs stopped him. He made a noise of unhappiness, and was about to yank himself free when I stopped him by stroking my hand down his chest, from his collarbone, all the way down to where his penis was saluting. “Oh, no, you don’t. You said I get to be in charge, and I say you have to lie there and take this.”

  “Take wha—” His eyes rolled back in his head when I bent down and took him in my mouth, letting my tongue dance along the length of him, making him moan nonstop.

  “We will purchase a new pair of these restraints for Pavel,” he said when I danced away, twitching the skirt of my nightgown even higher. “I wish to keep this set.”