The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons ld-2

by Katie MacAlister

  Baltic interpreted it differently, feeling it was Gabriel’s intention to undermine his relationship with Brom. It took three weeks of negotiation between Gabriel and Baltic before he agreed to the event, and then only after making some fairly obnoxious statements to Gabriel about what he would do should Gabriel not take care of Brom in a manner that Baltic felt reasonable.

  Brom looked thoughtful for a moment, slid me a quick glance, then leaned forward and hugged Baltic. The latter looked so surprised that I did laugh, although I covered it up with a little cough.

  “I’ll be back Sunday night,” Brom told Baltic, releasing him. “I promise I won’t like Gabriel more than you.”

  Baltic blinked at him for a moment or two, then clapped his hand on Brom’s shoulder and said, “You are my son. Of course you will not honor anyone more than your mother or me. It will be good for Gabriel to see that, however, so you are right to wish to demonstrate such. Pavel will be ready to drive us there shortly. Do you need money?”

  Brom wasn’t at all a mercenary sort of child, but he did have eclectic—and very expensive—tastes, and despite the fact that he received a generous allowance, his eyes lit up with hope.

  “I’ve already given him money to see the museum and buy a few mementos.” I shooed Brom toward the house. “He doesn’t need any more.”

  “Aw, Sullivan!”

  “Your mother has spoken,” Baltic told him, then pulled out a money clip.

  “Baltic!” I protested when Brom quite happily took the bills he offered. I took the money from Brom and gave it back to Baltic. “He’ll just spend that on things he doesn’t need.”

  Baltic handed it back to Brom. “He is a boy. Boys need spending money.”

  Brom nodded rapidly.

  “And you’re trying to raise funds to restore Dauva,” I pointed out, retrieving the money and stuffing it into Baltic’s pocket. “That’s not going to happen if you don’t stop slipping him money every time he leaves the house.”

  Brom’s face fell.

  “No pouting, buster,” I told him. “Go get your things packed.”

  “My son does not pout,” Baltic said with a stern look bent on Brom, interrupting him as he was about to protest. “Ysolde does not wish for me to give you cash. I will not go against her desires. We will both do as she bids.”

  “Thank you. I know you just want Brom to be happy, but I appreciate your upholding my authority despite that.”

  “You are my mate and his mother. I could not do anything else,” Baltic answered, watching as Brom, with dragging steps, slowly made his way to the house before yelling after him, “Tell Pavel to give you one of my credit cards.”

  Brom cheered and raced off.

  I put my hands on my hips and glared.

  “You did not wish for me to give him cash. A credit card is not cash,” he pointed out, blithely ignoring the obvious.

  “You are incorrigible. You’re just lucky that you’re so incredibly handsome, I’m willing to overlook that fact now and again.”

  “I know what it’s like to not have money,” Baltic said with a half shrug.

  That stopped me in my tracks. “You do? I thought all dragons were rich as sin. When were you poor?”

  “When I was resurrected. There was only a handful of black dragons, most of whom were in hiding, so none of them could help me. Then I located Pavel, but he had taken to robbery to survive.” Baltic made a face. “He wasn’t very good at it. He was in a mortal prison when I found him.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I had no idea. So you and he got together and started raising money?”

  “Yes. Our first concern was our safety, then Dauva. Now that has changed.”

  “Changed how? You still want Dauva back.”

  “Yes, but now my first concern is you and Brom. Dauva will wait until I know you are safe and content.”

  I looked up at him, this man who for centuries was reviled by other dragons as a murderous madman, my heart full to overflowing with admiration and love. “Without a doubt, that is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me. Kiss me.”

  “Gladly, but I will point out first that you said the very same thing last week when I told you that the sight of you makes my stones tighten.”

  “Putting aside your own desires so that Brom and I will be happy definitely trumps your testicles,” I answered, licking his lower lip. “Fire?”

  “You have your own fire,” he murmured, interest lighting the dark depths of his black eyes as I wiggled against him, reveling in the way my body fit against all of his hard planes. “You should give me your fire, mate.”

  “All right, but it’s your turn next time.” I bit his lip gently, my fingers working free the leather thong that held back his shoulder-length brown hair, concentrating as I did so on rousing the dragon that lived deep within my psyche. I had yet to master the skill that came so naturally to all dragons—harnessing their fire—but Baltic insisted that I practice it every day in hopes that one day I would return to being the dragon I once was.

  I focused on the moment, allowing the scent of him to sink into me. The feel of his body moving restlessly against mine did much to stir the embers, but it wasn’t until he took charge of the kiss, possessing my mouth in a way that left my toenails steaming, that I felt able to pull on my dragon fire.

  Baltic gently bit my neck, knowing how much I loved that, and, sure enough, the dragon fire rose within me until it erupted from me in a belch of flame, splatting against Baltic’s chest, then dissipating immediately.

  I eyed his chest with a critical gaze. He stopped nuzzling my neck and sighed. “You have not been practicing as you ought.”

  “I haven’t had time, what with moving every couple of weeks. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t find anything wrong with the security of this house, because I don’t plan on moving again for a long time.”

  “You are changing the subject,” he said, his sleek ebony eyebrows pulling together. “You swore to me that you would practice taming your fire. You have not done so.”

  “I’ve been busy, as I just said.” I pinched his arm, just to let him know I didn’t appreciate either the frown or the arrogant, bossy tone of his voice. “Besides, we have your fire. That’s enough for me.”

  “The fact remains that you promised me you would do something, but have not.”

  I glanced up at him, suddenly curious about an unfamiliar note in his voice. “Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

  His face was hard and closed, but there was a devilish light of enjoyment in his eyes that he couldn’t disguise, much though he tried. “You must be punished, mate.”

  “Punished! Are you out of your ever-livin’ . . . wa-a-a-ait a minute. What sort of punished? Punished as in you’re going to go all Drake on me and tell me what to do all the time, which will only serve to piss me off, or punished as in something naughty we used to do three hundred years ago, but which I’ve forgotten?”

  One corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes downright wicked now. “Perhaps a little of both.”

  I squirmed against him, the unspoken intent in his eyes making me shiver with anticipation. “Well . . . Brom is going to be gone for three days. I suppose I could put up with a little dominance in order to explore our past relationship. Who knows? It might help me find the dragon inside me. Hmm?”

  “There’s going to be a dragon inside you—that I promise,” he answered, flames licking up my body as he leaned forward, about to kiss me again.

  A voice interrupted us. “Phone for you, Ysolde.”

  I sighed into Baltic’s mouth and turned to accept the phone that Pavel, Baltic’s guard and oldest friend, held out to me. His face was unreadable, but amusement danced in his dark eyes. “I wouldn’t have interrupted you, but it is the silver shaman. She says it is important.”

  “Kaawa?” I asked, taking the phone. “I wonder what she wants. Hello, Kaawa? How are you? Is everything all right?”
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  “Mate!” Baltic demanded.

  “One moment please. Baltic has to vent his spleen, and I’ve found if I don’t let him do it, he gets more unreasonable than usual,” I told her before she could answer my questions.

  “I am not unreasonable. I am never unreasonable, as can be seen by the fact that I am allowing my son to leave my protection. Must I remind you that you agreed, when you begged me to permit Brom’s visit, that you would have no other interaction with the silver sept?” Baltic asked, frowning fiercely.

  “Yes, but this is just Kaawa. She’s not really a dragon.”

  “She is the mother to the silver wyvern. What I do not understand is why you would be happy to have Brom visit Gabriel, when it was he, along with the other wyverns, who accused me of killing blue dragons and named you ouroboros.”

  A little pang spiked into my heart. Even though I didn’t remember anything about my past as a dragon other than what the visions had shown me, the moment when both Gabriel and Kostya formally severed my ties with their respective septs was painfully strong in my memory.

  “I’m going to talk to her, Baltic. She’s a nice woman, she’s learned in dragon lore, and she wants to help me resolve the issue with my inner dragon. And before you say it, I know you’re learned in dragon lore, too, but you haven’t been able to help me deal with this whole ‘I used to be a dragon’ thing, and Kaawa has. Kind of. Oh, and speaking of that, I have something I want to ask you about the past, but that can wait until I’m done with this call.”

  He looked for a minute like he was going to argue the point, but a quick glance at my forehead had him muttering under his breath instead as he turned and stomped off, Pavel following in his wake.

  “I’m so sorry about that, Kaawa. You know how Baltic is.”

  She chuckled in my ear, her voice, thick with an Australian accent, warming me even though we were continents apart. “Not really, but from what Gabriel has told me, you have your hands full. How are you, child?”

  “We’re fine. Brom is about to visit Gabriel and May for the weekend, as a matter of fact. It’s very kind of them to invite him for a stay, considering the war and all.”

  “Pfft. That is more of a formality than anything, don’t you think?”

  “Well, that’s what Aisling and May say, but Baltic takes it very seriously. He’s busy with plans to free his friend Thala from wherever it is Drake has her stashed. I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but I figured not only would you not carry tales to Gabriel, but the wyverns probably already know that Baltic wants Thala back.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I would not carry tales, no, but I will tell Gabriel anything that I feel endangers him or his wintiki.”

  “I would expect that. I can assure you that despite the animosities all around, I wouldn’t condone a plan to harm any dragon, let alone people I like.”

  The smile came back into her voice. “You did not tell me how you were feeling.”

  I thought about the strange vision. “I’m fine as well.”

  “One of my dreamings spoke of you. You have a great confusion inside you, child, and it is growing if it can reach to my dreaming.”

  “It’s growing?” A little shiver skittered down my back. “I don’t know what to say to that other than it makes me feel more than a little freaked out. What confusion? The dragon, you mean?”

  “That is part of it, yes.” Her voice, normally so warm and soothing, went a little rough. “I do not know. . . . I am not sure, but I believe that something has changed. What would that be?”

  If anyone else had been so nosy, I would have had a thing or two to say to them, but Kaawa had tried for the last few months to help me discover why the dragon I used to be was buried so deep inside me that it manifested itself only with visions of my past.

  “As a matter of fact, something did happen a short while ago. I had another vision.”

  “That is significant, but not such that it should affect my dreaming,” she said slowly.

  “This wasn’t a vision of things that happened in the past, Kaawa. Or rather, it probably was, but it didn’t concern me. It happened before I was even born.”

  “Tell me,” she urged, and I sat back down on the stone bench made warm by the sun and leaned against the side of the house, the drone of bees as they bustled about a nearby hydrangea bush providing a lazy, sonorous background as I described what I had witnessed.

  “I don’t know why my inner dragon would want me to see that—what does it care about Constantine before he had anything to do with me?—but I assume the significance must have something to do with the First Dragon having Baltic kicked out of the sept. Or do you think it was Antonia? She used to be his girlfriend, you know. Or maybe it was Constantine himself? It’s so confusing! It’s enough to drive me insane.”

  “You’re not insane,” she said slowly, obviously thinking it over. “But I do not think it was the dragon within you who gave you that vision, child. The events that happened were beyond its scope.”

  “No? What did, then?”

  “You are marked by the First Dragon. He is the only one who could have the ability to allow you to see things beyond your knowledge, and I can well believe that such an act would disturb my dreaming.”

  I rubbed the spot on my forehead where the First Dragon, the father of all dragonkin who ever were, or ever would be, had touched me. It had left a mark that was identical to the sept emblem that Baltic and I bore, that of an etched sun, but over the last few months, the mark on my forehead had faded until it disappeared entirely. “I’m sorry to be so ignorant about this, but I thought your dreaming was a representation of your faith, tied in to the land and animals. How could the First Dragon have an impact on that?”

  “I have two dreamings—the wintiki, or night bird, and light. It is the latter that was disturbed. I have long suspected that the First Dragon’s songline was located in Australia, although I have yet to prove it.”

  “A songline is . . . ?”

  She laughed. “I did not call to give you a lecture in Aboriginal history, Ysolde. It would take much time to explain it all, but for now I will simply say that a songline is the dreaming and trail created by spirit beings such as the First Dragon.”

  “All right. So because he left behind some sort of an ancient trail, that’s affected your dreaming?”

  “Yes. Only his touch upon you would result in such a thing. Tell me again what vision he gave you.”

  I described once more the scene between Constantine and the female mage.

  “I have heard nothing about the event Constantine described,” she said thoughtfully. “There is no record of Baltic being expelled from his sept. And it is unheard of for the First Dragon to interfere with the weyr. I wonder if Constantine . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Could he be lying?” I asked, and thought about that for a minute. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just going to have to ask Baltic about it.”

  She laughed. “It is always a challenge to get information from a dragon, and doubly so when it concerns something they do not wish to discuss.”

  “And well I know it. But this is too big for him to hide—at least I think it is. I certainly feel like being declared ouroboros is a life-altering event. If it’s true, what could he have done to piss off the First Dragon to that extent?”

  “That I do not know, and I suspect you will find it difficult to get Baltic to tell you. But I admit I would give much to know the answer.”

  “Let’s look at the facts: the First Dragon resurrects me when Constantine kills me.”

  “Yes,” Kaawa said.

  “Then he tells me, five hundred years later, mind you, which is a bit annoying, that I am supposed to do something for him.”

  “And you somehow let him down before—didn’t he say that?” Laughter was in her voice, taking the sting from the comment.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “There’s just nothing like knowing you’ve let down the one dragon ancestor you�
�ve failed in the past, and he’s told you to do something for him without telling you what it is, and oh, yes, don’t blow it. Again. You know, it’s a wonder I’m still sane, having that hanging over me.”

  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Ysolde,” Kaawa said slowly, her voice now meditative. “You have warranted his trust for some task. That is an honor, no matter how you look at it.”

  “With the bottom line that if the First Dragon sent the vision about Constantine to me, then it must be related to whatever it is I’m supposed to do.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is definitely odd.”

  “I agree, but what am I supposed to do about it other than try to worm the information out of Baltic?”

  “I am afraid I do not know, but I suspect you will find that answer for yourself.”

  “I wish I knew how I was supposed to do that,” I said, weary of constantly being in the dark concerning whatever task the First Dragon expected me to perform.

  “If I could answer that, I would be able to tell you what it is the First Dragon desires of you,” she said with a little laugh. “Talk to your mate. Encourage him to tell you about his past. The answer may well lie there.”

  “It might,” I said, a sudden insight coming to me. “But you know, Kaawa, if it was something Baltic did that is connected with my task, then it seems to me that the First Dragon would have given me a vision of that event, not of a discussion by two unrelated people casually mentioning it. No, I think this is a very big—if obscure— hint about something the First Dragon wants me to do about Constantine. He was the focus of the vision. But what is it I’m supposed to do? He’s dead, after all. He is dead, isn’t he?”

  “I believe so, yes. I have not heard otherwise.”

  “No, but you didn’t know Baltic was alive for almost forty years, either.”

  “Gabriel knew something was amiss in the weyr. He could feel a disturbance,” she pointed out.