Love in the Time of Dragons

Chapter Four

“I don’t want to go.” The lid of my traveling basket closed with solid finality, punctuated by the muted sounds of weeping.

“I don’t like him. He’s arrogant,” I added, watching as my mother’s tirewoman tightened the straps on the basket so it wouldn’t come open during travel. “Although he’s a much better kisser than Mark, the brewer’s son.” “He kissed you?” My mother moved into view, her face pinched and white as she glanced around my bedchamber. Margaret sat on the bed, weeping into her sleeve.

Sorrow at leaving her filled me, but anger at the sudden upheaval in my life was the emotion that rode me. “Yes. I don’t see why I have to go with him.” “Mama, can’t she stay?” Margaret begged, looking up with red-rimmed eyes.

I sat next to her on the bed and hugged her. Margaret and I had sometimes had a turbulent relationship, but she was the only sister I had, and I would miss her. Especially since I was being taken from my home against my will.

“I promised your mother—” Mama choked on the word before continuing. “I promised the one who was your mother that I would raise you as my own to ensure your safety. I have done so, but I know she would not have wanted me to keep you from your true family. I would not let you go, but indeed, I have no choice in the matter. And Lord Baltic said that no ill would come to you, not that I told him anything about your past. Still, he swore that you would not be harmed, and that is what we must hold to.” “I don’t care what that Baltic says,” I murmured, holding tight to Margaret. “I’m not an animal.” “I’ve explained to you, dear — dragons do not take their bestial form very often. They prefer to be in human form, and live amongst us as a mortal would.” She gestured to the maids to carry down my traveling baskets. “Come, Ysolde. It is time. Lord Baltic is waiting, and I do not wish for his anger at a delay to fall upon your father.” “Lord Baltic can go stick his head in the pig’s wallow for all I care,” I said, stalking out the door after the maids.

Mama made noises of distress, but followed after me, speaking to herself as she ran over the things I was taking with me. “I asked him if he wanted the bed, but he said no, he wanted to travel fast. I have done my best by her, I hope he knows that.” Margaret hurried after me, wiping her face. “Ysolde will be able to visit us, won’t she, Mama?” “Of course I will,” I said as our little procession marched down the stairs to the great hall below. “No one can stop me from seeing you whenever I want.” “Is that so?” a deep male voice asked.

I turned my head as I stepped off the last step, meeting Baltic’s ebony gaze with a level look. “Yes, that’s so.” He watched me for a moment, then gave a jerky nod of his head. “We will do our best to make you happy, chérie.” “Stop calling me that,” I hissed through my teeth as I passed him.

His laughter rolled out across the hall in response.

The leave-taking that followed was not something I ever wish to live through again. I clung first to my mother, then my father, unable to keep tears from spreading tracks down my cheeks, their wetness blending with that of Margaret’s when she hugged me, her face pressed to mine as she whispered her desire that I not be long in returning.

By the time the imperious Baltic lifted me onto my horse, I wasn’t in much better shape than Margaret, although I had enough presence of mind to glare at him when he gripped my leg as he adjusted the stirrups.

“I am not a strumpet to be handled such,” I snapped, my emotions frayed and irritated, placing my boot in the middle of his chest and pushing him backwards.

One of his guards, the one he called Kostya, a black-eyed devil if ever there was one, laughed and said something in a language I did not know.

Baltic shot me a look filled with ire, but said nothing. Before I knew it, we were riding across the bridge over the moat, the only home I’d ever known slowly slipping away behind me.

I didn’t speak to any of the dragon men for three days.

On the fourth, I was sick of my own thoughts, tired of grieving for my lost family, and bored almost to the point of insensibility.

“Where are we going?” I asked that evening, when we passed through the gates of a small town.

Baltic, who was riding next to me, shot me an amused glance. “You’re speaking to us?” “Since I have no other alternative,” I said in my most haughty manner. “I would like to know where these other parents of mine are.” We stopped in front of a small inn. The three guards dismounted; one of the men, a short, stocky man named Pavel, disappeared into the low opening of the inn. Baltic tossed the reins of his horse to a stableboy before helping me off my mount. “I am not taking you to your parents.” I stared at him in surprise. “Why not?” He put his hand on my back and gave me a little shove toward the inn. Since it looked like it was about to rain, I went inside, ducking at the low beam at the doorway. The inn was of modest size, smoky and dark inside, but there were no foul odors as you will sometimes find in such places. To the right was a rough staircase leading to a floor above, while to the left was a common room filled with benches and rough-hewn plank tables.

“We do not yet know who your parents are. The mortal woman would not tell us the name of the dragons who left you with her, and although it would have been possible to get that information from her, such methods can take time, and I wished to be on my way. We will go to my home in Riga, and from there begin the search for your true parents.” I felt like a dog hackling up at his arrogant tone. “I suppose you expect me to be grateful you decided not to torture my mother!” “No.” He looked nonplussed. “She was not your mother. She was merely a mortal who had sworn her fealty to a dragon.” “Did you even talk to her?” I demanded, grabbing his arm when he was about to walk away from me. “Did you even ask her why I was left with her? You didn’t, did you? You couldn’t be bothered to find out what really happened!” His eyes glittered dangerously, but I was never one to take heed when I should, and I saw no reason to start now. He leaned close, his fingers biting hard into my arm, his breath fanning my face as he growled, “You will not address me in such an insolent tone. I am a wyvern. You will show me respect at all times.” “I will respect you when you prove worthy of such an honor!” I snapped back.

His jaw worked as if he wanted to shout at me, but all he did was release me with a muttered oath. He started off toward the innkeeper, but I wasn’t through with him.“Finding out the truth may have been beneath your concern, but it wasn’t beneath mine! My mother told about the woman she knew from her youth, a woman who was gravely injured, and whom she healed. She told me about how they had remained friends until one day, the woman arrived covered in blood, bearing a baby — me — and begged her to hide the child away lest it be discovered by her enemies. She told my mother the name of that enemy.” Baltic froze and turned slowly around to face me, his expression blank.

I squared my shoulders and met his gaze without flinching. “Baltic. The woman said the one who would destroy her and the child was named Baltic.” With a snarl, he lunged at me, moving so fast I could barely follow him. I didn’t even have time to scream before he spun me around, ripping off my cloak and shredding my surcoat. I ran forward, sobbing, intent on escaping the suddenly mad warrior, but he caught me, pressing me into the wall as he tore the cotte until only my chemise hid my skin from his view.

Even that wasn’t enough. As I clutched the wall, terrified that in his animal frenzy he would tear the flesh from my bones, he jerked down my chemise until my back was exposed.

“Silver!” he snarled, releasing me suddenly. I half collapsed on the stairs, clutching my clothing to my chest, trying to understand what brought on this brainstorm.

“What is silver?” I asked, flinching when he kicked tables and chairs out of his way as he stormed across the room.

“The mark you bear.”

“On my back?” I snatched up the cloak that lay on the ground, wrapping it around myself.

At the sound of wood being smashed, Kostya burst into the room, his sword in hand. “What is it?” Pavel stood at the top of the stairs, silently watching as his master literally destroyed the meager furnishings in the common room.

Kostya frowned, looking from Pavel, to me, and finally to Baltic. “What’s wrong?” Baltic swore, profanely and with a fluency that I couldn’t help but admire. He slammed a chair into the wall. It exploded in a thousand little splinters. “Ask her!” he snarled, kicking debris out of the way. The innkeeper had run into the back room the second Baltic had become enraged. He peeked out of the door, quickly hiding when Baltic pulled out his sword and started hacking away at a barrel of ale.

“What have you done?” Kostya asked me, sheathing his sword.

“Nothing. Baltic is upset over a birthmark on my back.” “That is no birthmark!” Baltic yelled, his face red with fury as he started toward me, his sword still in hand. I backed up, stumbling over a broken chair, wanting nothing more than to get out of the way of the madman. He stalked forward, menace rolling off him, his eyes narrowed and focused on me.

I thought briefly of running, but knew I wouldn’t make it more than two steps before he would be on me.

“I’ve done nothing to anger you,” I said, putting on a brave front.

His lips curled. “You bear the mark of a silver dragon.” Behind him, Kostya looked shocked.

“Silver, not black! You are the spawn of a traitor, one who has betrayed us! I should kill you where you stand!” He raised the sword until the tip of it was pressed into my throat.

I stood still, confused why he should be so angry with me, but aware that if I showed the least sign of weakness, he would kill me.

“Baltic—” Kostya approached, stopping just short of us. His expression was wary, but I did not see in him the unwholesome fury that was in his master. “She is innocent of wrongdoing.” “No silver dragon is innocent,” Baltic said in a low growl. Pain pricked my neck as the sword tip pierced my skin. I lifted my chin, keeping my gaze steady on his. “They will either rejoin us, or they will die.” “But this one knows nothing of our ways. She has not even accepted that she is a dragon,” Kostya argued, gesturing toward me. “What purpose is there in killing her?” Baltic opened his mouth to answer, but I was through being tolerant.

“His purpose is to bully and frighten,” I said loudly. “He is a coward, nothing more.” His breath hissed in as he leaned forward. “No man has ever spoken those words to me and lived.” “I am not a man,” I said, gritting my teeth against the burn of the sword as it slid deeper into my flesh.

“You would be dead if you were,” he snarled, lowering the sword and stepping back.

“You wish to challenge me?” I asked, shoving him hard in the chest.

He looked so surprised by the action, I had to bite back the urge to laugh. Kostya’s mouth dropped open into an O as I took two steps forward until I stood toe-to-toe with Baltic. “I will meet your challenge, warrior, but on my terms.” An odd look crossed his face. “What terms?” “No weapons,” I said, lifting my chin. “If you wish to challenge me, I will meet you body to body, but with no weapons, no armor. Just your fists against mine.” Pavel gave a short bark of laughter. Kostya’s frown relaxed into a smug smile. Baltic’s face remained expressionless, nothing but his eyes giving away any indication of what he was thinking.

“Very well,” he said after a minute’s silence. “But you must make it worth the ridicule I will suffer for such an indignity.” “Indignity!” He actually had the nerve to smile when I hit him on the chest. “Because I am a woman, you mean?” “Because I am the wyvern, and you are merely a young female who has not yet learned her place.” He handed Kostya his sword. “I will be happy to teach it to you, but I must have payment.” I eyed him as Pavel came down the stairs to help divest him of his mail and armor. Both guards were smiling. “What form of payment do you seek?” “When I win the challenge, you will disavow your fealty to the traitorous bastard who rules your sept.” “I don’t know any bastards other than Jack, the carter’s brother, and he is simpleminded and hardly could be called traitorous.” “I refer to Constantine of Norka,” Baltic said, all but spitting the words out.

“Well, I don’t know him either, and I certainly haven’t sworn fealty to him.” “Your parents must have, else you would not bear the brand of the silver dragons on your back.” Baltic peeled off his leather armor and stood before me wearing nothing but boots, braies, and jerkin.

It struck me for the first time that he was quite comely for a man. The high, sharp cheekbones gave his face a measure of strength. His nose was thin and sharp, sitting below a broad forehead from which dark hair swept back. Twin slashes of straight black eyebrows drew attention to his deep, dark eyes beneath. His jaw was angular, but blunted at the chin, as if God had decided that he had too many angles in his face and wanted to soften the sharpness a little. But it was his mouth that seemed to hold an unholy attraction for me. His lips were full, the lower creating a down-turned crescent, while the upper had a gentle curve that belied the anger held within him.

“Do you agree to the terms?” he asked, and I realized I’d been staring at his mouth.

I cleared my throat. “You have neglected to state the full terms. I must have a boon if I defeat you.” All three men laughed loud enough that the remaining guard came in from where he had been tending to the horses.

“Lady Ysolde has accepted Baltic’s challenge,” Kostya told him when he entered casting curious glances around the now-destroyed common room.

“What challenge?” the guard asked. His name was Matheo, I remembered from the brief introduction Baltic had made when he took me from my home. Kostya leaned over and whispered to him. Matheo smiled broadly.

“You will not defeat me,” Baltic said, and once again, I was possessed with the desire to slap him. “But let us live in the world of the impossible, and say that you do. What boon would you like of me?” “I wish to go home,” I said, my gaze steadfast.

He was silent for a moment, then made me a bow. “I accept the terms of the challenge. When would you like to begin?” I looked around the room. It was only four warrior dragons and myself, the innkeeper wisely keeping himself out of sight.

“Is there anything wrong with now?” I asked, pinning my cloak so my hands were free.

“No.” He waved a hand around the room. “Would you like to fight here, or would you prefer we go out—” I moved swiftly. He dropped like a sack full of bulls, his body curling into a circle as he clutched at his privates, unable to speak except to gasp for air.

“You should never have taken off your codpiece,” I said, gesturing toward that piece of armor that lay half hidden by the leather cuirass that had been discarded a few minutes before. “And I believe this qualifies as a win.” His guards, all three of them, stared with open-mouthed surprise as Baltic stopped writhing on the ground, his eyes open and glaring at me with promised retribution. He uncurled himself, his face beautiful and deadly.

“You… will… pay…” he finally managed to get out.

“No, I think you will pay — you will take me home.” I kept my ground as he got painfully to his feet, his body hunched as if… well, as if he’d just taken a very hard kick to the privates. “Do you deny that I won the challenge?” His face worked again, and I was certain that he was going to either spit at me or strike me, but he did neither; he simply turned and slowly made his way up the stairs to where the bedchamber was located.

The guard Matheo, after a long look at me, followed him. Pavel shook his head and gathered up Baltic’s armor before doing the same.

Only Kostya was left with me, and he watched me with an expression that I found difficult to read.

“You do not approve of my method of winning?” I asked him.

He was silent for the count of six, then shook his head. “You are a woman. He is a wyvern. I would expect you to use whatever method you could to disable him. It is not how you struck the blow that you will regret.” “Then what?” I asked, feeling more than a little ashamed at the way I’d taken Baltic off guard.

Slowly, Kostya smiled. “There may come a day when you wish to enjoy those parts you have this day so grievously injured.” Heat flooded into my cheeks as he, too, made a bow, then went outside.

Had he seen me staring at Baltic’s mouth, and assumed I was a woman of no virtue? I couldn’t blame him if he did. I didn’t feel particularly virtuous around Baltic, not with my mind reliving over and over again that kiss in the forest.

“By the rood,” I swore to myself. “Kostya’s right. But the saints help me, Baltic is driving me insane.” Guilt ate at me later, as I sat alone in a cramped bedchamber, nothing more than a closet, really, with a pallet crammed up against the eaves, a three-legged stool, and a cracked chamber pot.

The inn boasted two rooms — this one, and the larger room that took up the remainder of the upper floor — but as it was a communal room, one containing several pallets upon which Baltic and his guards would sleep, I had been given the closet. I walked the two paces that was the available free space, turned, and paced back, listening with half an ear to the sounds coming up through the floorboards.

Kostya had evidently made things right with the innkeeper, because earlier, when I had come in from using the privy, two lads and a frightened-looking woman were clearing away the debris left by Baltic’s fit, and shortly after that, three new benches appeared. Two hours later the locals slowly arrived, no doubt reassured that the mad lord was safely asleep upstairs. The soft murmur of conversation drifted upward, livened now and again by a hearty laugh that was stifled quickly, as if the patrons feared causing too much noise.

“This is silly. He challenged me. He held a sword to my neck. I shouldn’t feel the least bit sorry for what I did,” I told myself, touching the spot on my neck where the sword had pierced my flesh.

The wound wasn’t there. It had healed almost immediately, and if a thin trickle of blood hadn’t seeped into my chemise, I might have thought I imagined it. I had changed my torn clothing once Pavel brought my traveling basket, but my chemise lay on top of it, the rusty stain a glaring accusation. I rubbed at the dried blood and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt and shame.

“It’s no good,” I said finally, and straightening my shoulders, opened the door and entered the main chamber.

There was no light but the moonlight that came in through the shutters. I held high the candle from my closet, scanning the pallets to locate the one Baltic had chosen. To my surprise, they were all empty, all but one.

I approached the dark shape cautiously. I couldn’t tell which man it was — a fur was thrown over him, leaving only the tip of his head showing, and all the guards had varying shades of dark hair.

Setting the candle down on the ground next to the pallet, I reached out to pull back the fur just far enough to see who lay there, but before I could touch it, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist in a grip that came close to grinding my bones. I cried out, and the man sat up, releasing my wrist when he saw it was me.

“What are you doing?” he snarled.

It was Baltic, and he didn’t look any too pleased to see me.

“I came to see if you were hurt,” I said, suddenly feeling very awkward. I gestured toward his legs. “In your… place.” He stared at me a moment just as if two carrots suddenly sprouted from my ears. “You came to see if I was hurt?” “Yes. I know men are sensitive there. Well, you would have to be, wouldn’t you? I mean, it’s all just hanging there, right out in the open, not tucked away nicely like women. And I knew it would disable you, but I was thinking about it, and I realize that perhaps I took you by surprise, and that even though I said we’d start right then, you weren’t ready for my attack. So I thought I would see if you were hurt. Seriously hurt, that is, because I know you were hurt, or else you wouldn’t have rolled around on the ground as you did.” He sat through that entire speech without saying anything, but when I was finished he shook his head, and said in a quite reasonable tone of voice, “Yes, you hurt me. You damn near kicked my stones up into my belly. But you didn’t permanently damage me, if that’s what you’re having this attack of conscience about.” “Are you sure?” I asked, kneeling down next to him. I wanted to check his parts, but couldn’t think how to suggest that without sounding like I just wanted to ogle him. Which, sadly, I had to admit I wouldn’t mind. “Perhaps I should make sure. My mother — Lady Alice — taught me much about tending ailments. I’m known throughout the keep for my healing skills.” He muttered something that sounded like a blasphemy against healers, then suddenly sat up straight. “You want to look at my cock?” “I think it would be best if I examined your man parts for signs of injury, yes,” I said, trying my best to look knowledgeable in the area of genitals. “After all, I caused the injury. If anyone should look at your… er… area, then I should.” He scooted back until he was leaning against the wall. “Go ahead,” he said, crossing his arms.

I licked my lips nervously, biting my lower lip as I pushed the fur down his legs. He was dressed in a thin tunic and braies, and unless he had donned his armor, he would have no codpiece on under the tunic. Carefully I lifted the edge of his tunic. “Oh. My. Um. I was expecting… hmm.” “What were you expecting?” he asked, pulling up his tunic in order to stare down at himself. “What are you hmming about?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” I said, frowning just a little at his man parts.

“Like hell it is!” he said, sounding quite incensed.

I looked at him in confusion.

He sighed, closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them back up, and with a tight jaw, asked, “Are you going to examine my cock or not?” I eyed the part in question. “I don’t want to touch it if it’s bruised.” “It’s not bruised,” he snapped.

“It looks… angry.”

“For god’s sake, woman, it doesn’t have emotions of its own!” “Of course not. All right then. I will just check to make sure everything is as it should be.” I put one hand on his shaft. He didn’t move, the expression on his face suspicious.

“Well?” he demanded.

There was nothing for it. I put my other hand on his parts, lifting them to look for signs of damage.

A noise at the door had Baltic jerking up the fur, my hands trapped beneath it.

Kostya stood at the top of the stairs, giving us a puzzled look. “I heard loud voices. Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes!” Baltic answered through gritted teeth.

Kostya looked pointedly at me.

“Baltic’s man parts are angry, and I was seeing if there was something I could do to ease the pain,” I explained, not wanting him to think me wanton.

Kostya’s expression went absolutely blank. Baltic ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to maintain a grip on his formidable temper. “It’s not like that. She wanted to see if she had seriously hurt me. I told her she could look for herself to see that I wasn’t.” “I see,” Kostya said in a voice that sounded as if he were choking. “I’ll just leave you to that, then.” He disappeared. A roar of laughter came up from below that had Baltic swearing under his breath as he shoved the fur down again. “For the love of the saints — get on with it, woman!” “Very well.” I lifted his shaft, looking for signs of injury, but saw nothing. Despite the knowledge that I was renowned in the village and by folk of the keep as a healer, I couldn’t help but feel wicked as I touched him. I was no stranger to the sight of man parts — the male villagers frequently wore short tunics that left little to the imagination when the wind was high, but my mother had kept Margaret and me from bathing visitors, as was the common custom. Baltic’s parts were… interesting. “You don’t appear to have any injury,” I added, suddenly feeling a bit breathless. I let his stones slide slowly from my fingers, and was surprised by both the sudden hitch in his breath and the fact that his shaft began to harden.

“You are becoming aroused,” I said, looking at it.

“I’d have to be dead not to. Are you stopping?” I trailed my fingers down the length of his shaft. It was gaining in stature, the skin of it sliding like the softest silk over a piece of polished ivory my mother kept in her sewing box. “Do you want me to stop?” “Hell, no.”

I continued to lightly run my fingers down it. “How much bigger will it grow?” A short, pained-sounding bark of laughter escaped him. “I’ve never measured it. Why do you ask?” “Idle curiosity. That part is pushing back. Is it supposed to do that, or did I damage it?” “It’s supposed to do that.”

I slid one hand underneath the shaft, stroking it like I would a cat. Baltic groaned and closed his eyes, his hips rocking forward. “I’m enjoying this,” I told him, feeling a sense of pride in the fact that I could arouse him with my hands.

Eyes of purest black regarded me, shimmering with something I couldn’t put a name to. His lips quirked. “So am I.” “It seems rather monotonous, however,” I said after a few minutes of repeated stroking. His shaft was fully aroused now, and I marveled to myself that he ever fit it into his codpiece.

“There are… variations… you can do,” he said in a choked voice.

“Oh?” I looked down at the shaft. “Changes in pressure and speed?” “No. Instead of your hands, you could use your mouth.” “You’re jesting,” I said, staring at him in disbelief.

His lips quirked even more. “I thought that would shock you.” I eyed his shaft again. “I’m not shocked. I’m just a little taken aback. If I were to use my mouth, that would give you pleasure, too?” “Chérie, if you were to use your mouth, I would probably spill my seed within two seconds of your tongue wrapping around me.” “It’s a sin to spill your seed outside of a woman,” I said, parroting Father David, the priest at our keep.

“That is a human belief. Dragons do not hold with such foolish dogma. If you weren’t a silver dragon, I would be happy to do as you suggest.” I touched the very tip of him with one finger. A bead of moisture had formed there, a tear that glistened as I spread it about the head of his shaft. “I don’t wish for you to bed me, if that’s what you are implying.” “Why not? You seem to enjoy touching me.” I met his black-eyed gaze with calm assurance. “One day I will marry, and I must save my maidenhead for my husband.” “Marriage is also a human tradition, one dragons seldom follow. Ysolde?” “Hmm?” I spread the moisture around a little more, enjoying the sensation of it, wondering what he tasted like, and whether it would be a sin to find out.

His jaw tightened. “Nothing. Go back to your bed. I’m not injured, as you can—” I bent over him and took the tip of his shaft into my mouth. He stopped speaking. In fact, for a few seconds, he stopped breathing. He just sat there stiff as a plank, staring with wide eyes as I tasted him.

It was… different. Different, but pleasant. He tasted hot, somewhat salty, but it was the feeling of his silken flesh against my tongue that gave me boldness. I slid my tongue around the head of it, and Baltic groaned loudly, clutching with both hands the linen covering the pallet.

“Stop!” he cried, his voice sounding as if he had a mouthful of stones.

I released him from my mouth, worried I had done something to harm him. “Did I hurt you?” “No. You just have to stop, or else I’m going to—” I took his shaft in my hand again, sliding my fingers around the flesh now made slick by my mouth. He groaned again, his hips thrusting forward as he growled, “Too late.” “I don’t see how that’s not going to count as a sin,” I said, my hand full of his seed. “You’ll have to do penance for that.” “I already am,” he muttered, jerking up one edge of the pallet linen to clean my hand. He rose when he had done so, pulling me up and swinging me into his arms.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panicking slightly as he marched tense-jawed toward my closet.

“Taking you to bed.”

“I told you that I don’t wish for you to bed me.” “I heard you the first time,” he said, his voice sounding rough and harsh.

He shoved open the flimsy door and dropped me onto the pallet.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you again, but I will defend myself if you make me.” He dropped down onto his knees. “I don’t bed silver dragons.” “Then what—”

“I’m just going to reciprocate.”

I frowned as he pushed my feet apart in order to move between them. “Reciprocate what?” His face lost its tense look as he suddenly grinned at me. “Bliss.”