Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

dropped like anvils in the silence of the room.
    “Dead?” Gabriel asked, his eyes watching Drake carefully.
    “No. Disappeared. That was Bastian on the phone. He called to tell me that Fiat has been extricated from his prison.”
    “Not again.” Aisling groaned. “What do you bet it was Chuan Ren who nabbed him just so she can poke him full of holes?”
    “If she did, there’s more to her than we knew. Chuan Ren is dead. Fiat killed her two hours ago.”
    A chill swept over me despite the warmth of the room. We all stared in surprise at Drake, all of us but Baltic, who looked mildly interested.
    Drake’s gaze was level on his. “Bastian says Baltic is the one who freed Fiat.”

Chapter Twelve
    “ Y ou bastard,” I told Drake, taking him and most likely everyone else in the room by surprise. I know I surprised myself with the sudden blast of fury that swept through me, setting Drake’s feet alight with dragon fire.
    His eyebrows rose as he glanced down at his feet.
    “You hate Baltic so much you would do anything to keep him from being part of the weyr, wouldn’t you?” I said, my voice husky with emotion. I wanted to strike him, to call down destruction and mayhem.
    “Mate—” Baltic said, getting to his feet.
    “Hey, now!” Aisling interrupted, stepping between Drake and me. “Drake wouldn’t do something like that.”
    I glared over her shoulder at him, my hands fisted. His jaw tightened, his eyes spitting green fire as I snarled, “You puling little worm. Do you think that because much of the past has been lost to me I do not know of the treachery you tried to perform on Baltic?”
    The memory rushed at me, hot and fast, and I jerked it forward, wrapping it around us all.
    I heard May gasp as the sunlight of the room shimmered and changed into that cast by a row of flickering torches along a stone passageway. Drake stood before us, but it was another Drake, a Drake of the past, clad in chain mail, holding a sword on a woman as she screamed at him.
    “Holy cow! Are we in another vision? We are! Is that Drake? Oh, my god! What are you doing to him, Ysolde?”
    We stood as shadows in the memory of that moment in the past, watching the scene that resonated deep within my soul.
    “Why do you not stop him? Why do you not stop this madness?” the past Ysolde demanded of Drake. “He’s your brother! Do you want to see him wyvern so badly that you would participate in Baltic’s death?”
    “I am not the one who is mad,” Drake growled back at her. “Your mate has brought his own end upon himself.”
    “Your brother and your blood brother have sworn to kill Baltic, and still you claim you are not involved? Who gave the silver dragons support when they needed it? Who has lent aid and men to Kostya when he would attack Dauva? Who betrayed Baltic and me in St. Petersburg? If Baltic dies, his blood will stain your soul, Drake Fekete, for you will be as much responsible for his murder as they will be.”
    “Move out of the way, Lady Ysolde,” Drake said in a low, mean voice. “I do not wish to do you ill, but I will if you press me.”
    “I will see you in hell before I let you harm Baltic!” she screamed, lunging at him, the glint of silver in her hand.
    “Drake! Oh, my god!” Aisling yelled as Ysolde attacked. She did no more than graze his neck with the dagger before Drake flung her off, sending her flying backward into the wall. She connected with it with a horrible bone-cracking noise, sliding down it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor.
    “Brother! Where—Christos, is that Ysolde? What have you done to her?” Kostya emerged from the yawning black archway that led to the cellars, his armor and sword covered in blood.
    Drake knelt next to the fallen Ysolde. “She is unconscious only. She tried to kill me.”
    “Leave, Drake. This fight is not yours,” Kostya said, sheathing his sword in order to scoop my limp form into his arms. “I will take her abovestairs.”
    “You are my brother. I promised you support, and I will not withdraw now, when you have need of me.”
    “I don’t need your help. Can you not hear the sounds of battle? Constantine is at the gate. I will do what must be done, but you have already risked your future for my sake. I will ask no more of you. Return to Buda and the green dragons.”
    Drake hesitated. “I would see this to its end, Kostya.”
    “That will be upon us shortly. Go, Drake. Go out with Constantine’s forces, if you will, but I will