Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

onto the field of white.
    My eyes blurred. I turned my face out of the stinging wind and noticed a trail of crimson spots that led away from my dead form, away from Constantine, but before I could say anything, the sound of Baltic’s cry echoed in my ears. The whiteness darkened, thickening and reforming itself into a dark, dank, confined space.
    Baltic was on his knees, his head thrown back, in the same position of anguish, but now it was he who held a sword in his hands.
    The last few notes of the echo faded away, and I realized I was in one of the caves beneath Dauva.
    Baltic slowly turned his head and looked beyond me. “It is over.”
    “It should have been over a century ago,” a voice said, the shadow behind me resolving into Kostya. “But you would not listen to me. No more black dragons will die for you, Baltic. You are the only one who will die, and with your death, the sept will be free.” Kostya raised his sword high. “You need not fear for the fate of Ysolde. I will see that she is taken care of.”
    Baltic merely laughed, the sound of it horrible, filled with hopelessness and anguish that had no end and no beginning. He bowed his head, letting his sword fall to the stony ground with a dull clatter. “At least I will be with her again.”
    I screamed and leaped forward to stop Kostya, tears streaming down my face, but I was just as unsubstantial as Baltic had been at the scene of my death. I heard the sword cut through the air, but could not watch the sight of Kostya killing my love. I spun around, a spray of blood hitting my cheek, mingling with my tears as I collapsed, sobbing as if my heart had been destroyed.
    “My love, do not do this. It is over. I am here. You must return to me now. Ysolde, heed me!”
    I opened my eyes, finding myself on the floor, cradled against Baltic’s chest, my face and his shirt wet.
    “I’ll kill him,” I said, my throat aching and my voice hoarse.
    “Is she all right?” May asked. “Did she hit her head when she fell? Gabriel, maybe you should look at her.”
    “Now you know how I feel,” Baltic said, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.
    I pushed myself away from him, the memory stark in my mind as I got to my feet.
    “You,” I said, my voice low and ugly as I started toward Kostya. “He was unarmed when you killed him!”
    Kostya’s eyebrows rose, and he had the nerve to look shocked as I grabbed my chair leg and raised it over my head.
    “No, mate.” Baltic caught me as I ran toward Kostya, intent on destroying him.
    “You dropped your sword! You weren’t even holding it when he killed you!” I yelled, fighting Baltic to get to Kostya.
    “Eh . . .” Kostya looked startled for a moment, then frowned. “What are you talking about?”
    “I was dead by then,” Baltic said, wrapping both his arms around me and pulling me tight against his body. “Ysolde, I was dead. Constantine had killed you. I could not exist without you. It didn’t matter that Kostya struck the blow—I could not have survived without you.”
    “It seems I have arrived at a most interesting moment,” a light Italian voice said.
    I spat out a word I would never have said in front of Brom, dropped the chair leg, and turned in Baltic’s arms to hold him tight.
    “Apparently, Ysolde just had another . . . er . . . dream, for lack of a better word,” Aisling said slowly. “And I think Baltic went with her.”
    “Ah,” Bastian said, obviously confused.
    “Constantine did not kill Ysolde,” Gabriel said, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.
    “We saw him,” Baltic said as I sniffled one last sniffle into his shirt, turning to face the others who stood in a semicircle around us.
    “You’ve taken Jim?” I asked Aisling, noticing that the demon wasn’t present, although my spirits were too dulled to care much.
    “No.” She gave me an odd look. “We had an agreement, and we’re standing by it. Jim will remain with you until the sárkány is over. Right now it’s in the kitchen, no doubt trying to mooch food away from your son.”
    “You saw him?” Drake asked us, frowning slightly. “You saw Constantine kill Ysolde?”
    I hesitated for a moment, remembering the trail of blood that led away from my body.
    “Yes,” Baltic said, his arms tight around me. “We saw him standing over her lifeless body, a sword in his hand that dripped with blood. There was no one else there, just him.”
    I said nothing. The situation was too charged to discuss the