Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

others,” I said, sliding my arms around his waist and leaning into his back, pressing my cheek against it to hear his heart beating so strong and true. “You are my life, Baltic. I do not want to be Constantine’s mate any more than I want this endless war to continue. You must find a way to end it, to make peace amongst the weyr. You are the only wyvern strong enough to do it.”
    “There can be no peace for me so long as Constantine lives.”
    “The war between you and Constantine is private, but the results of it are going to tear apart the entire weyr. This war did not begin with me, and I will not have it end with me!”
    He turned, the muscles in his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with black fury. “What would you have me do? Go to Constantine with my tail between my legs and beg him to spare the black dragons? Would you have him absorb our sept into his without so much as a whimper? Would you have him strip everything from me?”
    “The silver dragons have been autonomous for over a century now,” I argued. “You never sought to force them to rejoin this sept until Munich!”
    Baltic snarled an invective. “That was the day I knew the true depths of his treachery. To steal you two days after you had been brought to bed—”
    Pain laced through my insides at the reminder. I looked down, tears welling in my eyes at the memory of that time. My poor little babe who did not live through the birth. Baltic grieved the loss as much as I did, but he did not see the truth behind the tragedy. I knew it was a sign that I should not bring life into a world that was filled with so much hate, while he went almost mad with rage and an intense need for revenge.
    He stopped speaking, taking me in his arms and holding me so I could weep silently into his chest. “There will be other children, chérie . I swear to you there will.”
    “There won’t be if there is nothing left for them,” I said, looking into his eyes “You are using the war as an excuse to hurt Constantine. It has to stop, Baltic, or there will be nothing left for us.”
    “Do you have so little faith in your own sept?” he asked, his arms tightening around me.
    “I have only faith in the black dragons, but you are not being honest with them.”
    He pulled back, strapping a leather scabbard around his waist. “We are at war. They know that.”
    “But you are allowing them and everyone else to believe you have some grandiose plan for domination over all the septs. You should ask yourself why you are so hesitant to tell them what your true purpose is.”
    Fire flashed in his eyes, manifesting itself in tangible form as it twisted up my body. “I will do anything to keep you safe. Anything!”
    “Including sacrifice innocent lives? It isn’t right, Baltic! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were mad!”
    A slight noise heralded the arrival of Pavel, who stood in the open doorway, his eyes watchful. “My pardon for interrupting. All is ready. Do we ride?”
    “Yes.” Baltic bent down to kiss me, his lips sweet, but my heart broke nonetheless. “You will be safe here, chérie . No one has ever breached Dauva, and no one ever will. I will send word to you as soon as I can.”
    “Don’t go,” I said, knowing it would do no good.
    “Constantine approaches Warsaw. I can’t let him cross the Vistula.”
    I bowed my head for a moment while he slid his sword into its scabbard. “If you will not stop this war, then I will,” I warned as he strode across the room to the door.
    He paused and looked back at me, a question in his eyes.
    “I will bring together the five shards of the dragon heart, and I will use them to end this battle between you and Constantine.”
    “The rumors about the dragon heart are grossly exaggerated,” he said simply, and left. Pavel gave me a thoughtful look before turning to follow him.
    “Stay safe, my heart,” I whispered even as my own was shattering.
    It took me two weeks to travel to Paris from Riga. The city was still in a shambles; the plague that had been triggered by the dragon war a century before continued killing mortals without prejudice. Rotting corpses of nobility and serfs alike festered in the streets, the stench almost unbearable. Outside of the city proper, the air was a bit cleaner, although carts laden with the dead rumbled by with a frequency that was unnerving.
    From the safety of a clump of birch trees in Montfaucon, I watched the small group of people gathered, three men and a woman.