Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

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    A horrible feeling came to life in my gut. Before I could warn him of it, the wyverns marched over to the table, Kostya taking up a spot at the head. “The wyverns are all present. The sárkány can commence.”
    “Would you pass the crème fraiche cherry apricot scones?” Aisling asked May, who sat diagonally across the table from her.
    I moved to stand next to Baltic, slipping my hand in his to both offer and receive comfort. His fingers curled around mine, making the fire in me stir just a little.
    “This sárkány is called to order to address the issue of the deaths of the sixty-eight blue dragons in France.”
    “This olive tapenade is fabulous,” May said, moaning with delight as she popped a tapenade pinwheel into her mouth. “Almost orgasmic with the touch of cognac.”
    “Present are the wyverns of all five septs, with the exception of Chuan Ren, who has sent her son Jian to act in her stead.”
    Jian acknowledged the comment, taking a bite of a pesto, basil, and tomato freschetta.
    “Who has the arancini?” Aisling asked, looking around.
    “Lemon thyme, or mozzarella and basil?” Cyrene asked, holding up two plates.
    “Oooh. Lemon thyme, please. Sweetie, would you like more arancini?”
    “This is like a bizarre love child of Martha Stewart and the Nuremburg trials,” I whispered to Baltic, noting that a couple of glasses were empty. I slid my hand from his and fetched a covered pitcher.
    “Baltic, former wyvern of the black dragons, you have been charged by the weyr with the deaths two months ago. How do you plead?”
    “I do not plead anything,” he said loudly, his voice once again normal due to the ice pack I’d made him hold on his nose. “I do not need to answer the charges. They are ridiculous, and without proof.”
    “More iced tea, anyone?” I asked, holding up the pitcher. No one said anything, although Kostya looked like he was about to explode. “No? Champagne, then?”
    “Christos!” Kostya swore, slamming his hands down on the table as everyone held up their glasses for a refill. “This is a sárkány , not a brunch! Can we get on with the meeting?”
    “There’s no need to be quite so testy,” I said as I poured champagne, making sure to splash his over the side. “I don’t see why we can’t do this in a civilized manner.”
    “Civilized coming from a dragon . . . that’s certainly an oxymoron,” a voice said behind me.
    “I thought you were going to get rid of him?” Baltic asked as Dr. Kostich strolled up.
    Kostya sank into his chair, banging his head gently on the table a couple of times.
    I narrowed my eyes at my former employer. “I did. I called him a taxi and saw him get into it.”
    “I decided it would be wiser for me to remain here, where I can keep an eye on you and the hefty wyvern until the watch comes to detain you both,” he said, looking over the buffet table. “Does that herbed goat cheese have garlic in it? I’m allergic to garlic.”
    “I give up,” Kostya told Cyrene. “I can’t fight herbed goat cheese and champagne.”
    “It’s very good herbed goat cheese,” she said, offering him a bite.
    “Mate!” Baltic said, his hands on his hips, clearly expecting me to do something.
    “What do you want me to do?” I asked. “He’s an archimage!”
    “A fact neither of you seems to give its due respect,” Dr. Kostich said, somewhat garbled since he’d just stuffed a mini cherry scone into his mouth.
    “He’s placed an interdict on me. You’ve seen how it makes my magic go awry—I couldn’t make him vanish, even if I had that sort of power.”
    “You never were much of an apprentice, although I will admit you tried,” he said, taking a loaded plate to a free chair at the table.
    “Not to mention the fact that he’s the head of the L’au-dela,” I finished.
    “Is he supposed to sit with us? I thought this was just for wyverns and their mates,” Cyrene asked Kostya, frowning at the archimage.
    Dr. Kostich ignored her. “Hence the fact that the watch is, at this very moment, speeding its way here to arrest you.”
    “What does it matter?” Kostya answered, his features set in a pout. “No one is listening to me. No one cares about anything but their bellies. No one wants to see justice done. I’m the only one here who is actually concerned about making Baltic pay for his heinous crimes—are those crab and papaya rice rolls any good?”
    “Your watch cannot touch us,” Baltic told Kostich, who