Up In Smoke

by Katie MacAlister

  “If you should change your mind, cara, I will be happy to oblige you,” he murmured. I think he would have gone into full seduction mode, but at that moment he caught sight of us.

  “Gabriel, my old friend,” Fiat said, the emphasis unmistakable as he approached us. “I have not heard from you these long months.”

  Gabriel made a little bow. “I have been busy, as I assume you have.”

  Fiat’s cold sapphire gaze slid over me, appearing startled for a brief instant. “Either my eyes deceive me, or this lovely lady is identical to the one I just left.”

  I didn’t flinch at his close examination, although I badly wanted to shadow to escape his penetrating scrutiny. To my surprise, I felt his mind brush against mine. I quickly erected my mental defenses, glancing at Gabriel to see whether he had noticed.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched once. He’d noticed.

  “Identical and yet not identical,” Fiat continued in a soft voice. “A mate? Can this be?”

  “Yes, and she’s claimed,” Gabriel said with much less suavity than was the norm for him.

  Fiat blinked; then a slow smile crept over his handsome face. He embraced me with great care, pressing a cold kiss to each of my cheeks. I stiffened, bracing myself for the moment when he realized that I wore the phylactery, but Gabriel’s assurances were not false. Fiat didn’t so much as sniff in the region of my chest.

  “A mate at long last! I am so pleased for you, my old friend. And for you too . . . er . . .” He paused.

  “May,” I said, scooting over an inch or two until I was pressed against Gabriel. “Cyrene is my twin.”

  “Indeed.”

  I prided myself on my ability to retain an unbiased mind when it came to people, and despite hearing much from Aisling about Fiat, I was determined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Something about him rankled, however. Oh, he stood chatting politely enough with Gabriel, but there was a tension about him, an awareness of his surroundings and everything in them that made me wary. A sense of expectation emanated from him, leaving me feeling restless and itchy with the need to get away. I glanced around, wondering whether I was influenced enough by Aisling to attribute false motives to Fiat, or whether my senses were accurate, and he really was planning something.

  The dragons around us didn’t seem to notice anything. Gabriel spoke in a low tone to Fiat, Maata and Tipene hovering with an unworried air behind us. Kostya had moved over to stand with his brother, Cyrene chatting brightly to Drake’s men while the two brothers watched us with unreadable expressions. A small group of dragons entered the ballroom, all Asian, one woman and three men. They stood in the back assessing the situation, not approaching anyone.

  I watched them, listening with half an ear until Fiat flashed a smile that was nearly identical to the one he’d turned upon Cyrene. “A doppelganger. How unique. I never doubted that you would find a mate, Gabriel, although I always assumed you would simply take Ysolde.”

  Gabriel looked surprised for a moment. “Ysolde de Bouchier?”

  “Yes. She was the mate of your wyvern Constantine, was she not? Ah, what am I saying?” Fiat made a wordless noise of chastisement. “She was the mate of Baltic first. Perhaps you did not wish to taint yourself with her.”

  “The question is a moot one since Ysolde disappeared before Constantine was killed,” Gabriel answered, the muscles in his arm tensing a smidgen.

  “Just so, just so.” Fiat turned back to me with a little bow. “You have my felicitations, cara. I can only hope that someday I, too, will find such a mate as my dear friend Gabriel has done.”

  Gabriel’s expression was serene, but his arm slid around my waist, and Maata and Tipene moved a step closer behind us.

  “Thank you,” I said politely, my lips closing on any further comment I might be tempted to make. I waited before he moved off to greet a waiting clutch of blue dragons before addressing Gabriel. “I think he’s responsible for the kidnapping of Maata and Tipene.”

  Gabriel clearly wasn’t expecting me to say that, for he stepped back in surprise. “Why do you think that?”

  “There’s something about him, something expectant, as if he’s been putting things in motion and is sitting back like a giant spider just waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. And I have the feeling we’re the flies.”

  “It’s a big leap in judgment to go from someone who has an expectant air to someone who is responsible for kidnapping my guards. I’ve talked to both Maata and Tipene about their experience with the kidnapping. They maintain that the dragons who captured them were ouroboros—unconnected with any sept.”

  Maata nodded. “I’m sure I would have recognized a dragon belonging to a sept, and the ones who held us were completely unfamiliar. They were not blue dragons, May.”

  “There is also the fact that Fiat would have no reason to kidnap any silver dragon,” Gabriel added. “We have not come down formally on Bastian’s side, and there are no bad feelings between Fiat’s blues and our sept. In fact, we’ve had . . .”

  Gabriel’s voice trailed away as the small group of dragons in the back of the room moved forward en masse, the woman in the lead.

  “You are Tauhou, silver wyvern,” she said, stopping in front of Gabriel. She spoke with a clipped Chinese accent, the words shooting out of her as if they were bullets. As someone rather lacking in the height department, I seldom see women much smaller than me, but this dragon was a good couple inches shorter, something that was not reflected in her personality—there was an aura of power about her that made the air feel full of static.

  He made her a bow. “I have that pleasure. This is my mate, May.”

  The woman’s dark-eyed glance brushed over me with an indifference that relieved me. As a rule I disliked being the center of anyone’s attention—anyone but Gabriel—but especially so when I was wearing a valuable treasure in a room full of dragons. “I am Bao. I am wyvern of the red dragons. You will recognize me as such.”

  Chapter Eight

  I stared with everyone else as the small woman made her surprising statement.

  “Indeed. Chuan Ren is dead, then?” Gabriel asked politely.

  “No.” Bao tossed her head. She had short, spiky hair, and an attitude to match. “She remains in Abaddon. I have taken over the sept. This is Jian, her son. He will tell you that she wished for me to be wyvern should anything happen to her.”

  A tall, lanky man next to her placed his hand on his chest, giving both Gabriel and me a little bow, but he said nothing. I wondered how he felt about someone stepping into his mother’s shoes.

  “You must come and meet the others,” Gabriel said after acknowledging Jian. “They will be very interested to hear of Chuan Ren. How does she fare in Abaddon?”

  Bao gave another head toss and proceeded in front of Gabriel. “That is immaterial. I rule the sept now, not Chuan Ren. She is gone, and I wish to meet the others.”

  I took the hand Gabriel offered, glancing to the side at Jian as he followed his new wyvern over to where Drake and Kostya stood. Fiat moved to join them, making little coos of pleasure as he spoke to her.

  “Shouldn’t her son take over as wyvern?” I asked Gabriel in a whisper a few moments later, as Bao was meeting the other wyverns.

  “Not necessarily,” he said, a speculative gaze on Jian. His fingers tightened around mine. “Wyverns are picked by right of tanistry, not primogeniture, although the latter isn’t completely unknown. What I find interesting is that Chuan Ren has a child yet living. The others were killed in the Endless War.”

  Jian, a tall figure, his head meekly inclined, stood behind the tiny Bao. He was a handsome man, I mused to myself, with high cheekbones and a sculpted look to his face that hinted he might be a model if he had been born mortal. He looked to be in his thirties, but that meant nothing—most beings in the Otherworld could control their appearance, settling on an age at which they felt comfortable. “He doesn’t look overly sad about the loss of his mother. Were they not close?”r />
  Gabriel smiled for a moment. “I am not privy to the workings of the red dragons, but I sincerely doubt if anyone could be said to be close to Chuan Ren. Still, it is interesting, is it not?”

  “Very.”

  “The sárkány will start now,” Bao suddenly announced, plopping herself down in the chair at the head of the table.

  Drake gave her a level look. “The weyr is not yet complete. We cannot start the sárkány until all wyverns are present.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are here. The silver wyvern is here. So are the blue and black wyverns. How is it not complete?”

  “How indeed,” Fiat said smoothly, taking the chair on the side of the table. “I have no doubt Drake is referring to that tiresome relative of mine who persists in delusions of controlling my sept. But as my dear uncle Bastian is not present to face the decision of the weyr, I believe we can proceed without him. And speaking of troublesome relatives . . .” He turned to Drake. “Where is your mate? Does she have so little respect for the laws governing the weyr that she refused to attend?”

  “She is heavy with child,” Drake said, moving to stand behind the chair at the foot of the table. His two redheaded bodyguards accompanied him. “Although she wished to attend the sárkány, her condition is too delicate for her to travel. As you know, there is precedence for female mates to be excused from attendance at weyr functions in such a situation.”

  Fiat smiled at him. “Naturally, we would not wish Aisling to risk herself or your child. Please be sure to tell her I’m thinking of her.”

  If Drake interpreted that as a threat, he didn’t indicate it. Gabriel heaved a silent sigh, gave my fingers one last squeeze, and moved to the last remaining chair, but like Drake, he did not sit. “Since this sárkány has been called by Bastian to address the issues of your claim to the blue sept, I believe it will be in the best interests of all to wait for him to arrive, rather than begin without him.”

  “He did not conduct a challenge in the proper manner,” Fiat said, an edge of anger to his voice despite his placid appearance. “It is not valid. I am wyvern of my sept, and you may trust me to deal with the situation he poses.”

  “If I did not conduct it as weyr laws demand, it is because I had no need to,” a man called from the other end of the room. Everyone turned to look, many of the dragons who had not risen to greet Fiat now doing so as the man walked alone down the aisle. When he reached the end, two men joined him, clearly his personal guard.

  I blinked a couple of times as the man strolled up to us, glancing between him and Fiat. I gathered this was the missing Bastian, uncle to Fiat. The two were almost identical, and for a few seconds I wondered if there was a doppelganger I’d never heard of. That thought was dismissed as I realized that what I was seeing was simply two men who bore a close resemblance to each other. Both had the same blond Adonis good looks, although Bastian’s hair was a few shades darker, the slightly curly locks brushing his shoulders. Where Fiat was dressed in an expensive-looking navy suit, Bastian wore a mandarin-collared sapphire shirt and black leather pants.

  “Lies!” Fiat snarled, leaping to his feet as he slammed his fist down on the table. “You would face the weyr with your lies, but I will not allow it! I demand the weyr name this dragon ouroboros and remove him from our presence.”

  “You had me kept prisoner rather than face me in a true challenge,” Bastian said in a voice filled with scorn. “I do not have to challenge you, because you have not legally held the position of wyvern. I was named wyvern by Pierozzo Blu, not you. It was me the sept accepted, until you spread your poison and convinced those in power that I was mad. And rather than have them see the truth in a real challenge, you shut me away and claimed my position. But I will remain silent and hidden no longer, Fiat. I was named wyvern long centuries ago, and I have come to claim my heritage.”

  Drake gestured to one of his men. István took an empty chair that lined the wall and set it on Gabriel’s side of the table. “This weyr has been called to settle the question of who is wyvern. Until such time as a decision is made, you will both have a place at the table.”

  Fiat spat out something rude but sat back down, his eyes glittering dangerously at the other blue dragon. Bastian hesitated for a moment but nodded and took his seat. Gabriel cocked an eyebrow at Tipene, who fetched another chair, which he placed a few inches from Gabriel’s other side. He waited until I was seated before taking his own place, Tipene and Maata taking up positions immediately behind us.

  “We are now all present,” Gabriel said in his beautiful voice as he eyed the other wyverns. “As I have been asked to lead this sárkány, I believe we are ready to proceed.”

  “Not yet,” Kostya said, snatching up a chair and setting it down next to Fiat with a good deal more force than was necessary. His men lined up behind him as he threw himself into the chair, spreading antagonistic looks among everyone. “Now all are present.”

  “Hello!” Cyrene smacked him on the shoulder none too gently. “I’m standing!”

  “You have appeared to have forgotten your mate,” Fiat said with a hint of real amusement in his eyes.

  “I have not forgotten her,” Kostya said calmly. “Not that she is technically my mate, but I have not forgotten her. It is impossible to do so.”

  Cyrene gasped and whomped him again on the shoulder. “I am so your mate! You said I was!”

  Kostya stood up with a heavy sigh. “No, I said you could be my mate based on the fact that your twin is Gabriel’s, but I never said you actually were. I just . . . er . . . implied the possibility existed.”

  “So am I or aren’t I?” she asked, her hands on her hips. I noted the dangerous look in her eye and wondered whether she had been with Kostya long enough for him to recognize it.

  Evidently he had. He took her hands in his and said something in her ear that evidently placated her.

  “This is wrong,” I murmured to Gabriel. “He’s leading her on.”

  “Yes, but that is his own affair. It has nothing to do with weyr business.”

  “No, but it is important to me.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “And I’m not going to let him continue with a charade that is only going to end badly. Cyrene, I’m sorry, but the truth is that you’re not Kostya’s mate. You’re not any dragon’s mate.”

  “Oh!” she said, outrage dripping from every pore. “How dare you say that about me! If you didn’t have a dragon of your own, I’d say you were jealous.”

  “Well, I do, and I’m not. Cy, I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not lying now when I tell you that you are not a dragon’s mate. Gabriel tested you last month.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice rich with sincerity. “But May is right.”

  “But . . . but . . .” She cast a sorrowful glance at Kostya.

  “You cannot handle dragon fire,” Gabriel said gently. “You cannot even tolerate it. Any dragon mate can do so, especially a wyvern’s mate. There is also the fact that none of us sense in you any other attributes of a mate.” He cast a glance toward the other wyverns. They all shook their respective heads.

  A curious parade of emotions passed across Cyrene’s face. Anger, dismay, and sorrow were followed by a look of determination that had me slumping back into my chair.

  I turned to Kostya. “Will you please tell her the truth?”

  He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, but just made unhappy noises.

  I shook my head. “Why on earth do you let her go on thinking she’s your mate when she’s not?”

  He looked embarrassed and made a vague gesture. “It’s . . . er . . . complicated. She’s . . . she’s . . .”

  “It’s because I’m good in bed,” Cyrene suddenly announced, the determined look settling firmly upon her face. “Which you well know. Well, not from firsthand experience, but because you’re my twin, and if I’m good, then you must be good at it, too. At least I assume you are.” She turned to Gabriel. “Is May—”

&nb
sp; “Don’t you dare ask!” I interrupted with a look that, by rights, should have scorched the hair right off her head.

  She ignored it as she always does, clearly too involved in convincing herself of the suitability of a relationship with Kostya. “Physical compatibility is very important. Never underestimate that, Mayling. That, and Kostya obviously is head over heels in love with me. That’s why he wants me for his mate when it may possibly be that I’m not technically able to fill that position.” She hugged his arm and gave him a look that made me want to shake her. “It’s so romantic, I could just melt. Oh, Kostya! I knew we were good together, but I never knew I meant that much to you!”

  Kostya sat down with a comical look of disbelief tinged with resignation. Cyrene, not seeing a chair forthcoming, simply plopped herself down on his lap and spread a smile around at everyone.

  I sat down as well, sighing to myself. This day had all the signs of being one I suspected I could do without.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’d say Kostya deserves every little bit of discomfort Cyrene causes him, but I’m going to end up the one she comes to when he breaks her heart,” I whispered to Gabriel.

  He nodded but was obviously focused on what he felt were more important things.

  Drake, rightly interpreting Gabriel’s meaningful glance, said with reluctance, “Kostya, you know the laws of the weyr as well as I do. You have not been named wyvern, nor has your sept been recognized and accepted. You do not have a place at the sárkány table.”

  “I am willing to recognize both the sept and the wyvern,” Fiat said suddenly, smiling at Kostya. It wasn’t a nice smile in the least, but at least he wasn’t ranting or baiting the ever-volatile Kostya.

  “I knew I liked you,” Cyrene told Fiat, beaming at him. “Not enough to leave Kostya for you, you understand. I’m not fickle at all, despite May saying the opposite, but that is very kind of you to show such support for Kostya after you were so snarky to him earlier.”