Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

One man I recognized. The other two—one blond, one dark-haired—were strangers, as was the woman, who was clinging to the dark-haired man in a manner that bespoke of intimacy. The dragons spoke together for a moment. I stepped out, wary lest the plea Kostya had made was some sort of a trap.
    “We were not sure you would come,” he called to me as I made my way through the boggy ground to where they stood on a small hillock. The woman squawked when one of the men disengaged her from his person and tried to shoo her away.
    I accepted the hand Kostya held out to help me over the remains of an uprooted tree. “You knew I was in Paris. Why wouldn’t I meet with you?”
    “Come back to the inn with me,” the woman cooed to the tall, dark-haired man. She was all but falling out of her bodice, and the look she gave him would be clear to a blind man.
    “Go away, woman. I told you that I have business to attend to,” the man answered, trying once again to shoo her away.
    “With her?” the woman asked, glaring at me.
    “Yes, but not the sort you understand. Leave me now or you will make me angry.”
    “What will you do if I don’t?” she asked coyly, trailing her fingers up his arm. “Will you paddle my bottom?”
    “No.”
    “Then what?” Her hand moved around to the front of his breeches.
    He turned and breathed fire on her.
    She ran screaming from the field, the hem of her skirts smoking.
    “Mortals,” the dark-haired man said in a disgusted tone, and proceeded to turn his attention to me. Both he and the second man eyed me with frank curiosity. I returned the compliment.
    “This is Allesander de Crovani,” Kostya said. “He is the younger brother of Mercadante Blu, the wyvern of the blue dragons.”
    Allesander made a bow, his light blue eyes watching me with amusement. He was slightly taller than me, had hair almost as pale as my own, and was slight of figure, but I sensed strength in him that I would not underestimate.
    I murmured the polite responses and was introduced to the third man, the fire-breather. “This is my brother, Drake Fekete. He is heir to Fodor Vireo.”
    I looked at the man in surprise. “You are not a black dragon?”
    “No.” He had a different sort of accent, one that reminded me of Eastern Europe. He shared Kostya’s height and general coloring, but his eyes were a pure, brilliant green. “Our grandmother was a reeve. She mated twice.”
    “I see. And Kostya is Baltic’s heir . . . how unique it will be to someday have wyverns of two different septs in the same family. Does it cause competition between you and Kostya?”
    “Only with women,” Kostya said, shooting his brother an irritated look.
    “There is no competition,” the latter said with blithe indifference.
    “True words.” Allesander laughed, giving Kostya a little nudge. “The women all go for Drake and give your scowls a wide berth, eh?”
    I had no doubt of that. Drake seemed like the ultimate lady’s man, if the tavern wench was anything to go by. “Do your wyverns know you are here?”
    Both men nodded. “Merca wishes for an end to this battle between septs,” Allesander said stiffly. “If you can bring it about, you will have the gratitude of the blue dragons.”
    “And green,” Drake said quickly. “We, too, are tired of fighting our brother septs. We wish for peace in the weyr once again.”
    “I’m surprised the war continues if everyone is so desirous of its end. Certainly the mortals must be praying peace will return to the dragons,” I said softly.
    “It would end but for your mate and Constantine,” Allesander said with an edge to his voice. “If they would settle their differences, we could band together and force Chuan Ren into an accord. But divided as we are . . .” He shrugged and looked away.
    “Then we shall have to pray that the dragon heart can do what the dragons themselves cannot,” I said, glancing at Kostya. “Baltic does not know I am here, but he is suspicious of your absence. I fear that he may discover I have come to Paris.”
    His eyes held mine with a fervor that made me uncomfortable. “We will have to risk that. Do you have the Modana Phylactery?”
    “Yes.” I touched a spot on my cloak. Beneath it, the phylactery hung between my breasts. “I have it with me. Were you successful with Chuan Ren?”
    “I was.” He reached into his doublet and removed a small box. “This is the Song Phylactery.”
    “I shudder to ask what it cost you to borrow