Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

speculation. “He particularly seems to like calling you daughter. I wonder if you really are?”
    I shook my head. “My parents were first black dragons, then silver when they left the sept with Constantine. There’s something . . .” I bit my lip, trying hard to remember something that was said to me relatively recently. “Kaawa, I think, told me that the dragon septs were originally formed by the First Dragon. His children were the first wyverns.”
    “I think I remember reading that in one of the weyr history books,” she said, looking thoughtful. “He had one daughter and three sons, and they formed the original four septs. But I never remember seeing Constantine’s name included, although it makes sense if all the other original wyverns were children of the First Dragon. I wonder why Gabriel never mentioned it?”
    “That’s a very good question. Another good one is what the hell I’m going to do. ‘Death of the innocent stripped honor from my youngest son.’ That has to be Constantine killing me. So how on earth am I supposed to return honor to my own murderer? Does it even matter since he’s dead?”
    She hesitated, then pointed out, “It’s the First Dragon’s son, Ysolde. I’m sure it matters to him.”
    “Good point.” I thought for a moment. “How do you return honor to a dead man? I could formally forgive him for killing me, but beyond that, I’m totally at a loss.”
    A slam of a door nearby had us both smiling wryly.
    “That sounds like the end of patience on the part of one or both of them,” I said as we left the library. Baltic stood by the front door, his arms crossed and a fierce scowl on his face as Brom chatted enthusiastically with Gabriel.
    “I hope he hasn’t talked you guys silly,” I said with a smile at my son.
    “Not at all. We enjoyed having him, and I know Maata gets a kick out of taking him to the museum to see the mummies. I’m pleased Baltic let him come visit us despite all the stuff going on with the weyr. And speaking of that, I assume we’ll see you tomorrow?”
    “Er . . .” I eyed my volatile mate with some misgiving. He really did look at the end of his not-very-substantial patience. “I haven’t told Baltic it was tomorrow, but he knows he’s going to have to attend, so, yes, we’ll be there. I look forward to seeing the house again, although I have to admit I’m a bit surprised that Kostya is allowing us there.”
    She paused as we entered the foyer. “I think he wants some help with Cy,” she said slowly, an unhappy look in her clear blue eyes.
    “It seemed to me the last time I saw them together that all was not well there.”
    “No,” she said slowly, her expression brightening when she glanced at Gabriel. “I expect Cy has done what she always does and moved on to another love interest, although I really had thought this time she’d stick it out. . . .”
    Baltic transferred his frown to me. “Mate, we have been here long enough. I have stood as many insults as I will tolerate. We will leave now. Brom, take your things to the car.”
    “Thank you for having Brom stay with you,” I told Gabriel as I moved to Baltic’s side. “From the increased amount of his luggage, it looks like he was far too indulged, but I’m sure he couldn’t have had a better time.”
    “It was our pleasure,” Gabriel said, wrapping an arm around May. “I hope you will allow him to visit us again.”
    I looked at Baltic. His lips thinned. I elbowed him.
    “No,” he said.
    “Yes.”
    He sighed. “Ysolde, one day you will go too far. Must I remind you again that I am the wyvern, and you—”
    “I am only the lowly mate, yes, I know, but as a wyvern, you must have some inkling of common good manners, so let’s see them.”
    He pinned me back with a glare for a few seconds before squaring his shoulders and making one of those elegant bows that all the dragon males seemed to know how to make. “My mate and I thank you for taking care of our son during his visit.”
    Gabriel, obviously fighting a smile, inclined his head politely. “We were happy to do so.”
    “We’ll see you both tomorrow,” May said, waving as Baltic escorted me from the house. “Bye, Brom!”
    “Tomorrow?” Baltic’s eyes were glittering with speculation as he held the car door open for me.
    “What’s tomorrow?” Brom asked from the backseat.
    “A meeting Baltic and I have to go to.”
    “Oh, the weyr thing.” Brom promptly lost interest and spent much of