The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

by Katie MacAlister

  He wrapped his arms around me, hoisting me up so I could kiss him properly, his fire racing through us both, wrapping us in a blanket of arousal, love, need, and a sense of rightness that almost made all our troubles seem to fade into insignificance.

  Almost.

  “Given Fiat’s madness, and the fact that he slaughtered four blue dragons who had been tasked with guarding him, as well as Chuan Ren, we are willing to readdress the question of Baltic’s involvement with the slaughter of the sixty-seven blue dragons earlier this year.” Drake’s gaze held impersonal interest as I disengaged myself from the sweet lure of Baltic’s mouth. “For that reason, I have called a sárkány to discuss rescinding the declaration of war between the weyr and your sept.”

  “Woot!” Aisling said, flinging herself on Drake. “I knew you would make it all right.”

  “It is far from all right,” Kostya said as Drake gave Aisling a swift kiss. “The cessation of hostilities is contingent upon agreement of all the wyverns, and that will not be given until we have interviewed again the two survivors of the attack. In addition, an investigation will be launched regarding Baltic’s lieutenant, specifically the reason she wanted Fiat free.”

  “But once that’s done, then we’ll be a part of the weyr?” I asked, sighing in relief.

  “No.”

  The word burst my happy fantasy world where everything turned out all right. “Why not?”

  Kostya’s nostrils flared as he nodded toward Gabriel. “Evidently you have an agreement that you have not yet fulfilled.”

  “What sort of an . . . oh.” Enlightenment dawned as Gabriel’s gaze locked with that of Baltic.

  “The silver dragons are willing to accept, contingent, as Kostya noted, upon a further interview with the survivors, that Baltic’s involvement with the deaths of the blue dragons is circumstantial rather than actual, and for that reason I am prepared to agree to a provisional cessation of the war. However, admittance to the weyr is another subject, and we cannot condone such an act without a good-faith gesture from you.”

  “The curse.” I slid a look up at Baltic. “It’s time it ends, Baltic. I’m alive, Constantine is dead, and we’re together.”

  I swear he just about turned to stone. “I have no reason to lift it, mate.”

  “We won’t get into the weyr if you don’t,” I pointed out.

  His gaze was as stony as the rest of him. “The silver dragons were responsible for your death, and the destruction of our sept. I cannot simply forgive that.”

  “But—”

  “No. About this I will not yield.” He shook off my hand, and with a glower at Gabriel, left the room, a silent Pavel on his heels.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll work on him,” I told Gabriel and May. “Don’t give up yet.”

  “You are the only hope we have,” Gabriel told me, taking my hand and bowing over it. “Do not fail us, Ysolde.”

  “I really wish people would stop telling me that,” I murmured as I hurried after Baltic. “It’s starting to give me a complex.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The drive home was conducted in silence, except for a brief interchange that began with Baltic’s insistence that he would drive.

  “I have done as you asked, and against my better judgment, allowed the wyverns to question me about my time in Europe when Fiat was slaying his sept. Now you will tell me about your agreement with Kostich,” he said as he narrowly missed plowing us into an elm tree that grew perilously close to the edge of the country lane upon which we were driving. He shot me an irritated look when I screamed, clutching the seat belt that crossed my chest, jabbing at the window with a frantic finger. Luckily, the ditch a bicyclist flung himself into (rather than be mowed down by Baltic) was filled with tall grass. “Mate, you will cease reacting as if I am not competent to drive this car.”

  “Glory of god, Baltic! If you kill, maim, or otherwise injure anyone on the way home, I swear I’m never getting in a car with you again! Stop! It’s not our turn to go!”

  Baltic ignored both the blast of a car’s horn and its occupant, who was making several rude gestures as he proceeded through an intersection toward the main highway that would take us home. “I am a wyvern. We do not take turns.”

  “For the love of—ack! You almost hit that cow!”

  “Cows should be in fields, not on roads,” Baltic said, glaring at the bovine in the rearview mirror.

  I watched the cow in the side mirror, relieved to see it moving in a manner that indicated it was startled by its near-death experience but not hurt. “Agreed, but that doesn’t give you the right to almost run them down. Look, you scared the cow and now it’s bolted and knocked down that poor cyclist you flung into the ditch. We should stop and help him. He’s just lying stunned in the middle of the road. He could get run over.”

  “You should stop trying to change the subject and tell me what Kostich wants you to do for him,” Baltic countered.

  Pavel, sitting in the backseat, had turned around to watch the drama between the cow and the cyclist, but now turned back with raised eyebrows. One look at my face had him hunkering down with a book.

  “Are you willing to discuss lifting the curse on the silver dragons?”

  “No.”

  “I can be just as stubborn as you,” I told him, crossing my arms and trying not to notice how close he came to sideswiping other cars as he merged onto the main road.

  “I have had ample proof of that,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I am sitting right next to you. I can hear everything you say.” I damned his stubbornness, and wondered how on earth I was going to convince him to lift the curse.

  He switched to Zilant before falling silent. Although the rest of the trip was fraught with innumerable death-defying moments, we made it home in one piece.

  “Mate, you will tell me now what it is you have undertaken for the archimage,” Baltic said, holding me back as Pavel headed for the house. “Is it to do with the light sword?”

  “No.” I stopped trying to pry his fingers from my upper arm, admitting that he had done as I had asked and it was my turn to acquiesce. “He asked for my help with his granddaughter.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why would he seek your help for that?”

  “Because she’s half dragon, and I was handy. She’s involved with some ouroboros dragons, and he wants her away from them. I promised to find out what’s going on and to aid her as best I can.”

  “An ouroboros tribe?” His gaze turned contemplative. “Is that why you were asking about them? Which tribe?”

  “I’m not absolutely certain, but I suspect they are the ones who imprisoned Kostya in his aerie.”

  He shook his head; then, taking my hand in a gentler grasp, he escorted me toward the kitchen door. “Ouroboros dragons are dangerous. I do not want you becoming involved with them.”

  “Dangerous how?”

  “They have no respect for septs, or the weyr.”

  “Neither do you,” I pointed out as we entered the kitchen to find Nico and Brom seated at the table, while Pavel was obviously about to prepare some paninis. “We’re technically ouroboros, too, so I doubt if we have much to fear from them.”

  Before Baltic could answer, Thala burst into the room. “There you are! You are late! You said you would be here two hours ago!”

  Baltic looked taken aback for about three seconds, before his expression darkened. “We were detained.”

  She tossed an angry glance my way, then took his arm and tugged him toward the hall door. “No doubt it was intentional. Isn’t Kostich friends with the green mate?”

  “Not according to Aisling.” I eyed the red peppers and turkey breast that Pavel was slicing.

  Thala ignored my comment. “The green dragons summoned you while Kostich was moving my mother’s sword to safety.”

  Baltic froze at her words. “He has moved the sword?”

  “Yes.” Her lips compressed as she shot me an unreadable look before continuing. “
I told you that we needed to do more than simply establish the level of security at Suffrage House. Your woman obviously spoke to the green mate, and she told Kostich of our plans to take the sword. He has moved it from the vault there and taken it to the sepulcher.”

  “I would never betray Baltic in any way,” I said, slamming down a quarter wheel of Swiss cheese before marching over to Thala. “And if you ever again imply I would do so, you’re going to be one sorry necromancer.”

  She straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at me. “Do you threaten me again, human?”

  “You bet your buttons I do,” I said, making a fist and gathering myself for a lunge.

  “Ysolde, remember our son,” Baltic said, pulling me backward against his body. “You do not wish to fight in front of him, do you?”

  His words acted like a bucket of cold water tossed on my head. I sent a reassuring smile to Brom, who sat watching with wide, delighted eyes. “No, of course not. But you know full well I didn’t betray you any more than Aisling did.”

  “I care not what the green mate did, but I know that you would never do such a thing,” he agreed, patting me on the behind before releasing me and giving Thala a long look. “I have asked you to cease tormenting my mate. You will not make me repeat myself.”

  Her eyes were hot with anger, but after a few moments during which I thought she might just challenge Baltic’s dominance, she dropped her gaze in a gesture of submission. “The fact remains that the sword has been moved to a safer location, and now it is beyond our reach.”

  “Not beyond it. More difficult to obtain, perhaps, but not out of the question.”

  “Where exactly is this—” My phone ringing had me pausing in the middle of the question. “Oh. I . . . uh . . . I have to take this call. It’s about that business we just discussed,” I added with meaning to Baltic, who simply shot me a warning look and allowed himself to be urged away by Thala.

  “She and I are definitely going to have it out one of these days,” I said softly as I went out to the kitchen garden. “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon. I am Maura Lo, and I’m told you wish to hire me for a summoning?”

  “Hello, Maura. Yes, I do. I’d love to talk to you in person about what I’d like you to do for me—are you near London, by any chance?”

  “Er . . . no.” Her voice had a kind of husky quality that reminded me of Lauren Bacall at her most seductive. “Actually, I’m in Estonia at the moment. Which is one of the reasons I was calling—I’m afraid my schedule is a bit hectic, so I won’t be able to undertake any new projects for a while.”

  I just bet she was busy. Busy with things like orchestrating the theft of objects from the L’au-dela vaults and keeping dragons imprisoned in their own residences. “That will never do. I’m afraid my job is quite urgent.”

  “I’d be happy to recommend another Summoner since you have such a great need—”

  I interrupted her offer with ruthless disregard. “I was told that you are the only Summoner in Europe who is capable of bringing back the ghost of a dragon.”

  “You want a dragon’s spirit summoned?” she asked cautiously. “Which dragon?”

  “The former wyvern of the silver dragons, Constantine Norka.”

  She sucked in her breath. “Why?”

  I blinked at the tidy rows of fresh basil and mint that Pavel often teased me were cosseted. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked why you want Constantine Norka’s spirit summoned?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that was none of her business, but I reminded myself that a little honey went a long way. “The First Dragon has charged me with a task that involves Constantine. I’ve decided the best way to accomplish that task is to speak with Constantine directly.”

  Silence followed that statement. “I see. Well, I won’t deny that the challenge is an intriguing one, but I’m very sorry, Miss . . . er . . . I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name from the message left for me.”

  “It’s Ysolde.”

  The silence that met my ears was one filled with surprise. “Ysolde de Bouchier?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh . . . I thought you were dead.”

  “I was. Temporarily.”

  “All right. Er . . . one moment, please.” A hushed conversation followed. Listening carefully, I thought I could detect two other voices, both male. Just what was she doing in Estonia?

  “Ysolde? I’m sorry, but I’ve just consulted my schedule again, and I really won’t be able to take your job for at least three months.”

  “Are you engaged in another summoning job?”

  “No, but I am terribly busy with . . . er . . . a little side project.”

  “I see.” I hadn’t anticipated that she’d turn me down flat. Now what? I glanced along the edge of the house, catching a quick glimpse of Baltic as he moved to his desk in the study, Thala right next to him, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. Take a leaf from Baltic’s book, I thought to myself with a little smile. I straightened my shoulders and adopted a cold, imperious tone. “That is not acceptable.”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “No.” I cut off her excuses with determination. “Your little side projects do not interest me, Maura Lo.”

  I heard a small gasp as I invoked her full name, embellishing it with a little flash of arcane magic that must have been tangible even given the distance.

  “I have hired you to do a job, and if you refuse to do it, you will leave me with no other alternative but to notify the Akashic League of your denial. I’m sure they will have a thing or two to say to a Summoner who refuses to honor her contract with them. I haven’t had many dealings with them, but I remember someone telling me that the Akashic League takes its contracts with members very seriously, and the penalty for breaching them is very inventive . . . and quite irreversible.”

  “I . . . that’s . . . you . . .” Anger was evident in her voice, but she bit it back. “If you can hold for a minute, I’ll speak with my colleagues and see if we can’t work something out.”

  “Of course,” I agreed, absently plucking a weed from the lemon balm and noting that the dill needed to be cut back. More murmuring was audible in the background, a full three minutes’ worth before Maura spoke to me. “Ysolde? I’m happy to say that my colleagues understand the importance of attending to League business over our own projects, so I will be available to summon the spirit of Constantine Norka for you after all. I will need a few particulars first, however. First and most important, where did Norka die?”

  “You don’t know?” I asked, somewhat surprised, since she recognized his name . . . and mine.

  “No. Should I?”

  “I suppose not. I just assumed that all dragons knew where Constantine died.”

  “Ah. I see someone told you about my father.” The faint thread of humor in her voice had more than a hint of irony to it. “I’m afraid that I don’t have much to do with the weyr.”

  “Isn’t your father a red dragon?”

  “He was, yes,” she said cautiously. “He was thrown out of the sept when he displeased the wyvern. That was before she killed him, naturally.”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea Chuan Ren would do that to her own people. Well, my memory is a bit faulty, but based on my discussions with the First Dragon, I believe Constantine died in Latvia. Outside of Riga, in fact.”

  “Riga? Do you mean Dauva? Of course you do; what am I saying? You were Baltic’s mate, weren’t you?”

  “I still am.”

  The silence that met that statement was profound. “I see,” she said slowly. “I think the best thing is to meet you at Dauva. We can search for the spirit there. Would it be possible to meet you in . . .” The muffled voices indicated a short conversation. “How about we meet in two days in that little suburb of Riga. What’s the name . . . Ziema?”

  “Ziema will be fine. I’ll let you know if I’m unable to make it.”

  She murmured something
polite, and gave me information about a hotel she said was on the fringe of the town, near the forest that had consumed Dauva’s crumbled remains.

  I hung up a few minutes later, staring blindly at the herb section of the kitchen garden, not really seeing anything but my own murky suspicions.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I gave a mental shake and glanced at Pavel. “Sorry?”

  “I asked if something was wrong. You have the oddest look on your face.”

  “Ah.” I thought for a moment more, then asked him, “If you were the person who captured and imprisoned Kostya in his own house, why would you be interested in me?”

  He didn’t even blink at the bizarre question. “The common link between the two of you is Baltic, so I assume that would be my focus.”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, turning my gaze back to the herbs. “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “Who is interested in you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “A half-dragon Summoner who may or may not be the leader of a notorious band of ouroboros dragons. I’m going to meet her in Riga in a couple of days. I don’t think I’ll tell Baltic, just in case.”

  He pursed his lips. “In case he would refuse to let you go?”

  “No.” I snapped the stalk of an amaryllis that grew in a pot next to the kitchen door, flinging away the leafy stem. “In case she tries to harm him.”

  It wasn’t until the waxing moon was high in the night sky that Baltic finished his dealings with Thala. He found me standing in a small, seldom-used room, staring blankly at nothing.

  “Did you have another vision?” He hesitated at the door before approaching me.

  “No. Are you done with Thala?”

  “I have been for the past hour. She went into town.”

  I watched him walk toward me, his movements smooth and sinuous, like a big cat on the prowl. There was something about Baltic, a sense of coiled power on the verge of being released, that heightened the general feeling of danger surrounding him. It was simultaneously frightening and very erotic. “When I first saw you, I thought you were a warrior, not the mage my sister told me about. Then I found out you were a dragon.”