The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons ld-2

by Katie MacAlister

  Aisling giggled. “You’re probably the only person in the world who can get away with saying that, Ysolde. Well, ladies, it looks like the menfolk are busy with their show of masculinity. Shall we move to an atmosphere that’s a little less testosterone filled?”

  I cast an assessing glance at the battle. Baltic’s left eye was swelling shut, and blood dripped out of his nose, but he looked in fine fettle nonetheless. The other three wyverns all seemed to fare similarly, and to my surprise, they all seemed to realize that there were limits to their fighting, and no one attempted to use weapons, makeshift or otherwise, but confined themselves to their fists.

  “I don’t see why not. I suppose when they get tired of beating each other up, they’ll come to find us and have their injuries tended. Let us go to the solar.”

  I led the way up the stairs to a room that sat above the library, designed so that it, too, caught the afternoon sunlight. It was furnished now in an atrocious manner, but I did my best to ignore the hideous bloated tea roses that adorned all the furniture, imagining how beautiful the room could be given the chance.

  We chatted for a few minutes about commonplace things, May explaining to Aisling what had happened to her twin.

  “Oh, man. Cyrene’s given him the brush-off?” Aisling shook her head. “He’s going to be hell to live with.”

  “I’d like to say that it’s just a phase, but . . . well, you know Cy. She’s always been fickle when it comes to matters of the heart,” May answered.

  “The question is . . .” Aisling paused in thought. “What impact is that going to have on the weyr?”

  “What do you mean? Why would there be an impact?” I asked.

  “This was before you were awake, Ysolde—or rather, before you went into your fugue—but Kostya named Cyrene as his mate in front of the weyr.”

  “That’s what he said. I don’t see what the problem is. Can’t he just unname her?”

  “I don’t think so, no. Dragons mate for life, you see. All but reeve dragons, but those are few and far between.” She must have seen my look of confusion because she continued. “Reeves are special dragons. They have an unusually pure bloodline, and they are the only ones who can mate more than once. That is, if they have a mate and she or he dies, the dragon continues to live and can take another mate. Drake’s grandmother was a reeve. She had two mates, one a black dragon and one a green dragon. That’s why Drake is a green dragon, and Kostya is black. But we were talking about Cyrene.”

  “There must be some sort of policy for the unnaming of a mate,” May said.

  “I don’t think so. Drake has never mentioned anything of the sort, and I think he would have when Kostya named Cyrene as one.” She sat in a horribly overstuffed chair while May and I took an adjacent love seat. “I don’t think the situation has ever come up before, which means there may be some trouble at the weyr when all the mates are present.”

  “Why would that be? Mates don’t do much, do they?” I asked, thinking back to the sárkány I’d witnessed a few months before. “Aren’t you just there as support?”

  “Yes, but it’s vital support. Mates are excused from weyr functions for only very limited reasons—childbirth being one of them, and illness or physical inability to attend another. Mates can also attend a sárkány in place of the wyvern.”

  May’s eyes widened.

  “Exactly,” Aisling said, nodding. “Can you imagine what would happen if something kept Kostya away from a sárkány, and Cyrene had the right to take his place?”

  “Agathos daimon,” May muttered, running a hand over her eyes. “I don’t even want to—”

  She was cut off as the door was flung open. Baltic stood in the doorway, blood dripping from his nose and eyebrow.

  “Mate! You left me!”

  “Of course we left,” I said calmly, quickly eyeing him for signs of injuries. He seemed to be favoring his left side, in addition to his other hurts. “You were all acting like idiots. You didn’t honestly expect us to stand there and watch you beat each other up, did you?”

  “A proper mate knows that her place is at her wyvern’s side,” Drake said, pushing past Baltic into the room. He limped slightly, and appeared to be missing a tooth.

  Aisling tsked and hurried over to him, wiping at the blood on his mouth.

  May raised her eyebrows as Gabriel, also limping, followed Drake, a little groan escaping him when he sat in the spot I vacated. “ ‘Physician, heal thyself’ has a particularly fitting ring to it right now, but I suppose you don’t want to hear that, do you?”

  “No,” he said, wincing as he flexed the fingers of one hand.

  Kostya staggered in last, striking a pose at the door that lasted for three seconds before he crumpled and collapsed.

  I looked at Baltic again. “I imagine you’re proud of yourself.”

  “I have nothing to be ashamed of, if that is what you are implying.” He nodded to where both Aisling and May (who had evidently given in to Gabriel’s pathetic appearance) were murmuring softly as they tended their men. “Aren’t you going to cosset me as the other mates are doing?”

  “I don’t think you deserve any cosseting, since it was you who started the whole thing by jumping Kostya.”

  A groan came from the direction of the floor. “It was completely his fault. He’s wholly to blame for everything. Oh, god, I think I’m going to puke.”

  Baltic looked at me out of his one good eye, the sadness in it sufficient that I pulled out a tissue and dabbed gently at the blood from his nose. “Sit down,” I said, pushing him into the overstuffed chair Aisling had been sitting in.

  “Careful,” he warned, easing himself into the seat. “A couple of my ribs are broken.”

  “They are?” I whirled around, suddenly furious. “All right, which one of you broke Baltic’s ribs?”

  Drake and Gabriel pointed to the floor.

  “He dislocated my shoulder and broke my collarbone, if that makes you feel any better,” Kostya said in a pained voice.

  “Tough noogies. You and I are going to have a little talk later on, Konstantin Fekete,” I said, glaring at him.

  “If I survive, you’re welcome to try,” he said in between groans.

  It took us a few minutes to get everyone patched up and relatively hale, although all four men had to be provided with dragon’s blood, an extremely potent spicy sort of wine that only dragons and their mates could drink, before their regenerative powers kicked in and healed the worst of their hurts.

  “Now perhaps we can get down to business and talk about this ridiculous war,” I said after everyone was comfortably situated. “I want to discuss the death of all those blue dragons, and what actual proof you have against Baltic regarding them.”

  Drake’s phone buzzed. With a cross between an oath and a groan, he got to his feet and moved stiffly to the far end of the room to take the call.

  “The proof was laid before you at the last sárkány,” Gabriel said wearily, sipping carefully from his glass. “Baltic was in the area at the time of the murders. He was seen by one of the survivors. He is known to have been working with Fiat, who we know also had a hand in the murders.”

  “Really? Then why haven’t you put a death sentence on his head the way you did mine?” I asked, more than a little riled at the thought of the way the entire weyr had jumped to erroneous conclusions.

  “Fiat is . . .” Gabriel glanced across the room at Drake.

  “Nutso.” Aisling finished the sentence. “Mad as a hatter, or so Drake and Bastian say. Jim would say he’s cracked, and for once, I agree with it. Drake tried to talk to Fiat last month, but he went off about a woman plotting his downfall, and how she’s arranged to have him killed after using him for her own purposes.”

  “Chuan Ren? I can see her wanting him dead after he stole her sept, but how has she used him? He has to be mad if he’s making paranoid claims like that. But perhaps he’s not so far gone that we can’t reason with him. Maybe we should talk to him again,”
I suggested. “Maybe someone could get through to the rational part of his mind.”

  “That’s doubtful,” Drake said, returning to us with only the slightest hint of a limp.

  “You think he’s that mad?” I asked him.

  “No.” He stood before Baltic, giving him a long, cold look. “You can’t question Fiat because he’s gone.”

  His words dropped like anvils in the silence of the room.

  “Dead?” Gabriel asked, his eyes watching Drake carefully.

  “No. Disappeared. That was Bastian on the phone. He called to tell me that Fiat has been extricated from his prison.”

  “Not again.” Aisling groaned. “What do you bet it was Chuan Ren who nabbed him just so she can poke him full of holes?”

  “If she did, there’s more to her than we knew. Chuan Ren is dead. Fiat killed her two hours ago.”

  A chill swept over me despite the warmth of the room. We all stared in surprise at Drake, all of us but Baltic, who looked mildly interested.

  Drake’s gaze was level on his. “Bastian says Baltic is the one who freed Fiat.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “ You bastard,” I told Drake, taking him and most likely everyone else in the room by surprise. I know I surprised myself with the sudden blast of fury that swept through me, setting Drake’s feet alight with dragon fire.

  His eyebrows rose as he glanced down at his feet.

  “You hate Baltic so much you would do anything to keep him from being part of the weyr, wouldn’t you?” I said, my voice husky with emotion. I wanted to strike him, to call down destruction and mayhem.

  “Mate—” Baltic said, getting to his feet.

  “Hey, now!” Aisling interrupted, stepping between Drake and me. “Drake wouldn’t do something like that.”

  I glared over her shoulder at him, my hands fisted. His jaw tightened, his eyes spitting green fire as I snarled, “You puling little worm. Do you think that because much of the past has been lost to me I do not know of the treachery you tried to perform on Baltic?”

  The memory rushed at me, hot and fast, and I jerked it forward, wrapping it around us all.

  I heard May gasp as the sunlight of the room shimmered and changed into that cast by a row of flickering torches along a stone passageway. Drake stood before us, but it was another Drake, a Drake of the past, clad in chain mail, holding a sword on a woman as she screamed at him.

  “Holy cow! Are we in another vision? We are! Is that Drake? Oh, my god! What are you doing to him, Ysolde?”

  We stood as shadows in the memory of that moment in the past, watching the scene that resonated deep within my soul.

  “Why do you not stop him? Why do you not stop this madness?” the past Ysolde demanded of Drake. “He’s your brother! Do you want to see him wyvern so badly that you would participate in Baltic’s death?”

  “I am not the one who is mad,” Drake growled back at her. “Your mate has brought his own end upon himself.”

  “Your brother and your blood brother have sworn to kill Baltic, and still you claim you are not involved? Who gave the silver dragons support when they needed it? Who has lent aid and men to Kostya when he would attack Dauva? Who betrayed Baltic and me in St. Petersburg? If Baltic dies, his blood will stain your soul, Drake Fekete, for you will be as much responsible for his murder as they will be.”

  “Move out of the way, Lady Ysolde,” Drake said in a low, mean voice. “I do not wish to do you ill, but I will if you press me.”

  “I will see you in hell before I let you harm Baltic!” she screamed, lunging at him, the glint of silver in her hand.

  “Drake! Oh, my god!” Aisling yelled as Ysolde attacked. She did no more than graze his neck with the dagger before Drake flung her off, sending her flying backward into the wall. She connected with it with a horrible bone-cracking noise, sliding down it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  “Brother! Where—Christos, is that Ysolde? What have you done to her?” Kostya emerged from the yawning black archway that led to the cellars, his armor and sword covered in blood.

  Drake knelt next to the fallen Ysolde. “She is unconscious only. She tried to kill me.”

  “Leave, Drake. This fight is not yours,” Kostya said, sheathing his sword in order to scoop my limp form into his arms. “I will take her abovestairs.”

  “You are my brother. I promised you support, and I will not withdraw now, when you have need of me.”

  “I don’t need your help. Can you not hear the sounds of battle? Constantine is at the gate. I will do what must be done, but you have already risked your future for my sake. I will ask no more of you. Return to Buda and the green dragons.”

  Drake hesitated. “I would see this to its end, Kostya.”

  “That will be upon us shortly. Go, Drake. Go out with Constantine’s forces, if you will, but I will not have Fodor say you participated in the death of a wyvern. Baltic is my responsibility.”

  “He is your curse, you mean,” Drake said, his face impassive as Kostya carried me down the hallway, calling after him. “If you do not end it now, I will do so myself.”

  Drake’s head snapped back, the sound of flesh striking flesh jerking us all out of the vision. “I . . . haven’t . . . forgotten,” I told him, rubbing my bruised fingers.

  “OK, that’s going too far,” Aisling said, shoving me aside. “No one hits Drake! I know that some stuff went on in the past that no one is proud of, but that’s no reason to hit him now! Are you all right, sweetie?”

  Baltic shook his head as he pulled me gently into his arms. “Always you were one to think with your heart and not your head. Ysolde, Ysolde . . . and people say I am violent beyond reason.”

  “He had it coming,” I said, nursing my fingers for a moment before sanity returned. “I apologize for punching you in the eye, Drake. I was caught up in the emotion of the moment, and that wasn’t well done of me. However, I don’t appreciate you making up lies about Baltic.”

  Drake stiffened under Aisling’s ministrations, gently moving her to his side as he glared at me, one eye slightly swollen and turning dark. “I do not lie!”

  “Baltic didn’t let Fiat out!” I said loudly.

  “His lieutenant did.”

  “He couldn’t have, because he wasn’t even in Italy. He’s been in Riga, and then here,” I told them all.

  “It’s true, mate.”

  “And I’m just sick and tired of you guys believing the worst of Baltic! What is it with you people that you can’t, just once, believe what we’re saying? Why can’t you—” I stopped and turned to glance up at Baltic. “What?”

  “Thala released Fiat.”

  I think my jaw dropped at that. I’m not absolutely certain, but I have a nasty feeling that I stood there for a good five seconds staring at him in openmouthed surprise. “She did?”

  “Yes.”

  I prodded his arm when he said nothing more. “Why did she do that?”

  “Did you ask her to free Fiat?” Aisling asked at the same time.

  “If I had wanted Fiat free, I would have seen to it myself,” Baltic told her with grandiose hauteur.

  “Then why did Thala set him free?” I repeated.

  “I don’t know. She has become secretive of late. She said only that it would help achieve our goals.”

  “You didn’t stop her,” Gabriel said, his body language showing just how angry he was, despite his placid expression. “Do you expect us to believe that you will not benefit from Fiat being at your beck and call?”

  Baltic sighed. “No, I do not expect you to believe that, but that is because you delight in attributing to me the most heinous of motives. And yet the truth is that Fiat threatened to kill Ysolde and Brom. I was delighted that he was in the custody of the blue dragons, and I did not want him released.”

  “He threatened to kill us?” My voice was downright squeaky with surprise. “Why?”

  Baltic maintained a stony expression.

  “Why?” I asked a
gain, nudging his arm.

  His brows pulled together. “I will tell you later, when we are alone.”

  “That sort of attitude is just going to make everyone suspicious. Why would Fiat want Brom and me dead?”

  “There are times,” Baltic answered, breathing heavily, “when I long for the days with my old Ysolde.”

  “Oh, I would have pestered you without mercy until you answered me back then, too.”

  He grinned, taking me by surprise. “Yes, you would have. You would have me bare my soul before other wyverns without the slightest regard for my consequence or tradition, just as you do now.”

  “I’m here to keep you humble,” I agreed, and waited.

  He flicked a glance at the other men, all of whom wore expressions of sympathy. “Fiat blamed me for his current situation. He knew the worst thing he could do to me was to take you from me, so he was plotting with a group of his followers to have you and Brom captured and killed.”

  My blood felt like ice in my veins. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “What good would it have done to do so? I would never allow anyone to harm you or my son, so it was of no concern to you. He was safely held by the blue dragons, and I knew his influence would not reach to you.”

  I slapped my hand on his chest, drumming my fingers with more force than was absolutely necessary. “We are going to have a little talk later about sharing important information, Baltic.”

  A familiar martyred look crept into his eyes. “I have no doubt that you intend to do so, but we have more pressing things to discuss.”

  “Was that where you were instead of Riga the other day? In Italy checking up on Fiat?”

  “Yes. I was uneasy when I heard that ouroboros dragons had been seen in the area.”

  “Why didn’t you stop Thala if you were there?” I asked.

  His lips tightened. “She wasn’t in Italy when I was, nor did I know that she intended to free Fiat.”

  “For the love of . . . Do you have any idea how hard it is to make people believe you’re innocent when stuff like this happens?”