The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

Chapter Two

“Ysolde. Brom.” Five seconds passed. “Baltic”.

“Hi, Gabriel.” I smiled at the small group of people standing outside a house in an elite section of London. “May, is that a leather catsuit? I’ve always wanted to wear one, but I just don’t have the figure for it. It looks fabulous on you. Hi, Maata. I hope you’re not going to regret offering to take Brom to the British Museum again. I thought he wore you out the last time he dragged you through it. Good afternoon, Tipene, it’s nice to see you again. Oh, Gabriel, I spoke with your mother a little bit ago—it seems one of my visions disturbed her dreaming and she was checking up on me—she sends her love to both of you. She is so sweet. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate her concern for me. For us. Is she coming back to visit you soon? I’d love to see her again if she does. Maybe we could get together for a clandestine dinner or something, one that no one in the weyr would have to know about. I have a new recipe for the most divine stuffed mushrooms that I’m dying to try out.”

Beside me, Baltic heaved a silent sigh. “Mate—” he started to say in protest.

“It’s called polite chat, Baltic. May and I are going to do it, so you can just stop seething.” I smiled again at May and Gabriel, both of whom were now looking amused. Gabriel’s elite guards, Maata and Tipene, stood directly behind them. Maata’s lips twitched, but she kept her face as stony as Tipene’s.

We made quite a group on the sidewalk.

Baltic, Brom, and I stood with Pavel, all facing the silver dragons. Although May had invited us inside the house, Baltic and Gabriel insisted that the terms of the arrangement called for the handing over of Brom to be conducted outside the confines of their home.

“You had another vision?” May asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes, a very interesting one.” I slid a glance toward Baltic, who was staring moodily at Gabriel. There hadn’t been enough time for me to broach the subject of the vision with him, but I fully intended to do so at an appropriate time. “I think it had something to do with what the First Dragon wants me to accomplish for him.”

“Really?” Interest lit up her blue eyes, and much to her wyvern’s dismay, she moved out of formation, took me by the arm, and tugged me toward the gate that led to the minute garden at the back of the house. “Tell me about it.”

“May!” Gabriel demanded, incredulity rife in his voice.

“Ysolde, this is a breach of protocol,” Baltic snapped. “You are violating the terms that the silver wyvern and I set down. You will come back here immediately and stand by my side, as is your duty.”

“Boy, they get cranky if you mess with their plans,” I told May.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Gabriel gets cranky, but he can be a teeny bit inflexible when it comes to Baltic,” she agreed.

“Mayling!” her mate said, clearly aghast.

She grinned and blew him a kiss.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Go get a latte or something,” I told Baltic as I followed May around the side of the house.

“I do not want a latte! Mate! Return to my side!”

“Oooh, you know how I love it when you get all domineering and pushy,” I told him over my shoulder. “Would you like me to call you Drake now or later?”

May snickered.

The word Baltic said in response wasn’t polite, but considering it was in Zilant, the centuries-old language used by dragons before English became the standard means of communication, I let it slide with a little giggle and a wave at Brom, who was in the process of disappearing into Gabriel’s house with Maata.

“I figure we have about five minutes before Baltic insults Gabriel to the point where they start duking it out,” I told May as I took the seat she pointed me to. “We’re going to have to make this fast.”

“I’m all ears.” She sat opposite me, saying not a word while I recounted the experience I’d had earlier in the day. Neither one of us thought anything about the fact that I would tell her something so intimate as the vision I had—through the dragon shard we had both once borne, there was a connection between us, a tie with the First Dragon that made it perfectly reasonable that she should hear about the vision he had given me. Her expression never wavered as I described the scene, but I knew she was as taken aback as I had been upon hearing Constantine’s statement regarding Baltic.

“So what do you think?” I asked when I had finished.

She was silent a moment. “I think we need Aisling.”

“Oh? Why? There was no demon or anything like that where we’d need a Guardian.”

“No, but three heads are better than two, and she has a way of getting information out of Drake that just might be useful. If Baltic isn’t forthcoming about what Constantine said, I bet Aisling can worm it out of Drake.”

“Good point.”

She pulled out a cell phone and punched in a number, holding it up to her ear as she spoke. “Plus, she’s kind of tied in with all of this. Kostya is Drake’s brother, and since Baltic and Kostya were friends—before Kostya killed him, naturally—that gives her a sort of an in, if you will. Hi, Aisling? It’s May. Do you have time in the next few days to meet with Ysolde and me? She’s had another vision, and I think you’re going to want to hear about it. Hang on, let me put you on speaker so Ysolde can hear, too.”

She pressed a button and held the phone out between us.

“I’d be happy to see you both, but you are aware that the boys aren’t going to like it.”

“Quite aware,” I told the phone.

“OK. Just wanted to make that point. In fact, Drake has forbidden me to see you, Ysolde. He seemed to think May and I might have something up our sleeves to end this stupid war. Honestly, dragons. So suspicious.” The laughter in her voice had both May and me smiling, since we had intended to get together in the near future for just that purpose. “Let me look at my schedule to see when I can get away without Drake knowing. . . .”

After exactly five minutes to the second, we heard a commotion from the street and hurried around the house to find the two wyverns nose-to-nose, shouting in Zilant.

“Do you understand what they’re saying?” May asked me as we watched.

I listened for a minute. “Not a whole lot, but I think Gabriel just told Baltic his mother was an ass. Or possibly a porcupine. And that, I believe, was an invitation for Gabriel to conduct an act that is anatomically impossible.”

Baltic stopped in mid-insult to glare at me. Gabriel didn’t follow suit, although his dimples were nowhere in evidence when he held out his hand for May.

“You are finished?” Baltic asked sourly. He didn’t hold out his hand for me, but I went to his side regardless, knowing that his feathers had been severely ruffled.

“Yes, we are finished. Thank you for being so patient.” I leaned into him and smiled at Gabriel. “Please let us know if Brom goes over the line with his demands for trips to the British Museum. And thank you both for offering to have him despite the state of things. We’ll be back to get him on Sunday night. It was nice to see you all again.”

Baltic felt enough pleasantries had been exchanged and hustled me into the back of the car, which was illegally parked a few yards away. “That is enough, Ysolde. When we were planning this, you did not say you wished to conduct a social visit with the silver dragons.”

“Would you have agreed to one if I had?” I asked, curious.

“No.” He got in beside me, telling Pavel to drive on. “They declared war upon us. It is for them to ask us, not the other way around.”

“When did you say Thala resurrected you?”

He shot me a curious glance at the abrupt change of subject. “In 1971. Why?”

“Because for a man who’s forty years old, you sure do act like you were raised in the Dark Ages.”

“I was raised in the Dark Ages.”

“That was supposed to be sarcasm, Baltic.”

“I know what it was. I simply chose to ignore it,” he answered, taking my hand in his. I couldn’t help but smile. He was so bristly when it came to other dragons, and yet I knew how much he had suffered over the years. I figured he was due a few bristles now and again.

“Speaking of Thala, what’s the latest on your epic plan to spring her?”

Pavel gave a short bark of laughter as Baltic, with great relish, answered. “We have located her whereabouts at a house in West Sussex. Pavel will reconnoiter there this weekend, and then we will attack.”

I sighed. “I don’t suppose you would like to try to release her without violence?”

“That did not work, which you know since you insisted on holding talks with Drake Vireo regarding the subject.”

I paid little heed to the acid in his voice. “It’s worth trying to reason with Drake and the others again. After all, Gabriel did make an effort to be civil by inviting Brom to stay. Perhaps the wyverns are trying to offer an olive branch.”

“I doubt it.” The look he gave me said much. “I know you do not wish for this war, but it is not of our making. We have taken no actions against any member of the weyr.”

“Nor have they done so against us. Well, except for Kostya breaking your nose again last week, but that had more to do with the fact that you called him a ‘house-stealing, backstabbing, traitorous whoreson pain in the ass’ than with the war against us.”

Baltic rubbed his nose. “The fact remains that it is for them to call off the war and make the first move.”

I was silent, but my heart wept for the state of things between us and the weyr.

Baltic, ever sensitive to my moods, put his hand on my leg and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If I were to tell you that we will kill as few dragons as is necessary to free Thala, would that make you happy again?”

“Oh, I know full well that despite your reputation as an unbridled maniac, you’re not a fan of killing just for the heck of it, but that isn’t my point. I don’t want anyone else to die, Baltic. That includes whatever guards Drake has put into place around your friend.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked, clearly exasperated.

“Well . . .” A thought occurred to me, one that would ease my conscience at the idea of sneaking around behind Baltic’s back and yet might well serve to achieve a much-desired end. “If you aren’t willing to talk with Drake and the other wyverns again about them releasing Thala, then perhaps I can. Or rather, perhaps I can talk to May and Aisling. And Cyrene, of course, although . . . did it seem to you that something was a little off in Kostya and Cyrene’s relationship when we ran into them last week?”

“Something is most definitely off with Kostya,” he growled.

I patted his knee. “Personal judgments aside, I got a feeling that we had interrupted an argument. I wonder . . . no, that doesn’t really matter. What was I saying? Oh, if I talk to Aisling and May about Thala, I’m sure I could get them to see reason. They don’t want a war any more than we do—wars are dangerous things, and they don’t want their respective loved ones in any danger. I’m willing to bet you that they can go a lot further in convincing their wyverns to release Thala than you can. After all, it was you the weyr was after, and now they’ve met you and seen you’re not the madman they thought you were, so they really have no reason to hold Thala prisoner.”

“I will not have you put in any danger,” he said stiffly.

“May and Aisling?” I asked, not bothering to finish the question.

He harrumphed. “I concede that neither of the mates is likely to harm you, but I do not trust the wyverns.”

“You trust Gabriel with Brom,” I pointed out.

“That is because no wyvern would attack a child. My son will be safe with the silver wyvern. My mate is a different matter.”

“I’m not proposing to stay with Gabriel, just have a little talk with May and Aisling. And I think I’ll call them when we get home and set up a lunch tomorrow to meet with them.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but I’m no actress. My voice sounded stilted and filled with the knowledge that we’d already set the meeting time. Luckily, Baltic was still considering the subject of his second guard, Thala.

“I do not like it, but if you insist on trying, I will not prevent you,” was all he said before he and Pavel turned the discussion to the best ways to infiltrate the house where Thala was being kept.

It wasn’t until that night that I had time alone with him.

“Where’s Pavel?” I asked as I set a deliciously scented beef bourguignon down in front of him.

“He will not be here for supper. He has gone to see a friend,” Baltic answered, holding out a chair for me.

I started to sit, but looked up quickly. “A friend? A romantic friend, you mean? A guy romantic friend?”

Baltic frowned at me as he took his seat. “No, female. I told you he did not have a preference as to gender.”

“Oh, a girlfriend. Drat. And you can stop giving me that look. I’ve told you for two months now that I don’t have bizarre sexual desires, and have absolutely no wish to participate in a threesome with Pavel or anyone else.”

“That is good, because I have changed my mind about allowing you to watch when Pavel is with a male partner. I have discussed the matter with him, and although he was willing, I have decided it is not seemly in my mate to be aroused by the thought of males with other males.”

“I’ve told you and told you that it’s just mildly interesting!” I slammed down the spoon I was about to use to serve him. “By the rood, Baltic, I’m not a sex-crazed pervert!”

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you’re implying that because a girl likes a little spice now and again, she’s a whack job. And I’m not. You know I am more than happy with our sex life.”

The irritated look on his face slid away to one of smug satisfaction. “Yes, I know. Last night you shouted your pleasure so loudly it almost deafened me.”

“Oh, I did not. Don’t exaggerate,” I said briskly, serving us both. I paused in the act of passing a bowl of salad, remembering the events of the night before, and a little flush warmed my chest. “Although I have to say that I highly approve of your use of the feathers. That was very inventive.”

He allowed a small smile to curl the corners of his mouth. “It was something I read in a book. I had wished to try it with you before that bastard Constantine killed you, but was unable to find suitable feathers.”

“Speaking of Constantine,” I said slowly, pausing to savor a mouthful of the bourguignon.

“We weren’t.”

“Yes, we were. You just mentioned him.”

“Mentioning someone is not the same as speaking of him. I do not wish to ruin my digestion by speaking of that murderous traitor.”

“Well, we’re going to have to risk that, because I want to talk to you about him.”

Baltic set down his fork and shot me a penetrating glance. “Why do you wish to do so? Are you fascinated by him the way you are with thoughts of Pavel and males? Do you regret me taking you from Constantine’s side? Do you wish I were he?”

“For the love of the saints, Baltic! Get over the thing with Pavel already! As for Constantine, no, I don’t regret anything. Well, that’s not true. I regret hurting him when you claimed me as your mate, but that was much of his own doing. And even if I did regret you de-mating me from Constantine, which I absolutely don’t, it wouldn’t matter because he’s dead.” I paused a moment. “He is dead, isn’t he?”

Baltic’s eyes narrowed. “I did not kill him, if that’s what you are asking.”

“It’s not, and stop giving me dragon answers.”

“I am a dragon. I answer. Thus I give—”

“Argh!” I yelled, slamming both hands down on the table. “You’re doing this deliberately, aren’t you? You’re trying to piss me off so I won’t go back to the subject you don’t want to talk about, but it’s not going to work, Baltic. You may be able to distract me other times, but not now. Not when it’s something this important.”

He looked completely outraged. “Why is Constantine so important to you? I should be the only one who is of that much importance in your life! Excepting Brom, and I allow that he is of primary importance as well. But other than him—”

“I cannot wait for you to stop being so damned insecure!” I yelled.

“I am not insecure! I simply wish to know why my mate is lusting after other wyverns!” he yelled back.

For a moment an image came to my mind’s eye: a man so overwhelmed with grief, he had dropped to his knees at the memory of his love, his anguish swamping everything around him. Instantly, I was on his lap, holding him tight to me, tears wetting my lashes as I kissed his face. “My love, my only true love, never have I lusted after anyone but you. Not in the past, not in my dreams, not even in those fantasies you consider so outrageous. I chose you in my other life, and I chose you in this one, as well.”

He allowed me to comfort him, not saying anything, but his grip on me was as hard as steel. Although I had treated the subject with some lightness when speaking to Brom, the truth was that Baltic’s emotional scars ran so deep, I began to wonder if they would ever heal.

Dinner was forgotten as I did what I could to provide a balm to his aching heart. It wasn’t until after he had allowed me to love him—dragons, I had found, are dominant even so far as intimate relations are concerned—that I felt comfortable again broaching the subject.

“Baltic, stop sleeping. I want to talk to you,” I told him, prying myself up from where I had collapsed against his chest.

He cracked one eye open and considered me with some annoyance. “I have just pleasured you within an inch of your life, or so you claim, and now you wish to talk? My Ysolde—”

“Yes, I know, your precious old Ysolde would have never bothered you at such a time, but since I am not as perfect as she was, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

He surprised me with a chuckle as he pinched my behind and shifted me so that I was draped more comfortably across him. Idly, I stroked my hand across the heavy pectoral muscles over his heart, tracing out the sept symbol that he bore there.

“You were hardly perfect, my love. You always wanted to talk after lovemaking then, as well, although usually you did not require much response from me.”

“Probably I knew I wasn’t going to get one. I seem to recall you going right to sleep after such acts,” I said, kissing his collarbone.

He grunted and closed his eyes.

“I want to talk about Constantine and you,” I said, propping my chin on my folded hands.

His eyes popped open to glare at me, and he probably would have come up with some outraged declaration or other if I hadn’t stopped him by continuing. “I want to know why Constantine was meeting with Antonia von Endres and, more important, why the First Dragon had you kicked out of your sept.”

He went absolutely still under me, not even breathing for the count of ten. Then he blinked. “How do you know about Constantine and Antonia?”

“You want to tackle that subject first? OK. I had a vision today. Not a vision like before, but one where I wasn’t even born when the action happened.” I gave him a quick outline of the events I had witnessed.

His face adopted a shuttered expression. “Why did you have that vision? It does not make sense. Neither that bastard Constantine nor Antonia has anything to do with you.”

“They do if the First Dragon wants me to perform some task related to one or both of them.”

He was silent again, then finally said, “I did not know they had met, although I suspected it. Antonia was very ambitious, and she expected me to be the same.”

“Ambitious how? Becoming the heir, you mean?”

“No, I was already fighting for that,” he said, lazily stroking my back. “She wanted more for me than to just be the wyvern of the black dragons. She wished for me to control the entire weyr, so that we could join our power and rule the Otherworld.”

“Good god. So she thought she could do that by offing the competition?”

His shoulders twitched. “I told her it was folly, that I would challenge Constantine for the position of heir and win it rightfully, but she was not known for her patience.”

“So what happened that you were booted out of the sept?”

“A complicated circumstance that has no bearing on your vision” was his answer after a long pause.

“I don’t want to pry into something you’d rather not talk about,” I said slowly, moving a little so I could trace the lovely thick muscles of his chest. “But knowing what happened might give me some insight into what exactly I’m supposed to do about Constantine.”

“I assure you that the situation had nothing to do with the traitor.”

I looked at the face that I loved so dearly, reading in the set of his jaw and the obstinate glint to his eye that I would not get further information. That didn’t stop me from asking one last question, however. “That’s how the First Dragon knew you, isn’t it? You did something he didn’t like and he asked your wyvern to boot you out. Why has no one ever mentioned that? At the sárkány two months ago, Drake and the others seemed surprised to find out that the First Dragon knew you.”

“No one outside of Alexei, Constantine, and a few others knew of the circumstance,” he said reluctantly. “All but one are dead.”

I pounced on a name I recognized. “I thought you said that whatever you did had no impact on Constantine.”

“I said it was not his concern. That is not the same thing,” he said with usual dragon caginess.

“Will you tell me someday what happened?” I asked as his body relaxed once again, his eyes closed, and his arm wrapped securely around me.

He pinched my behind again; then one side of his mouth went up and he pulled me up to kiss me. “When the time is right, yes.”

I couldn’t help but wonder just how many hundreds of years from now that would be.