Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

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