Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

some emotion I couldn’t identify. He opened his mouth to speak, his hands gesticulating wildly as he did so, but his voice had no sound.
    “You did it!” I gasped, staring with wonder at Constantine’s spirit. “That really is amazing. But why can’t we hear him?”
    “He’s not grounded,” she said with an edge that had me wondering. With a little sigh, she made a few gestures that looked like backward wards, causing the translucent ghost to slowly solidify.
    “Constantine?” I asked him.
    “Ysolde!” He held up his hands, still clad in leather gauntlets, looking in wonder at them. “I was dead. I know I was dead. But now I’m not? You have had me resurrected? This woman does not look like a necromancer.”
    “I’m not,” she told him, gathering up her things. “I’ve summoned your shade, not your physical self.”
    “A shade?” He looked down at his chest, touching his stomach. “I feel real.”
    “That’s because you’re in corporeal form right now. When you grow low on energy, you will fade into an insubstantial form.” Maura turned to me, her expression tight. I didn’t understand why she seemed so resigned when her mission had been a success. “I can’t bind him to you, I’m afraid. That’s the trouble with dragon spirits—they come back as shades, which can’t be bound without a whole lot of trouble. He’s more or less going to be able to do as he likes. I can release him, though, if he is willing.”
    “I’m not dead?” He pulled out his sword, still strapped to his hip. He made a few jabs at a nearby fern. “I’m not. I’m alive.”
    “No, you’re a shade,” Maura repeated. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel, and I can explain the ins and outs of shadedom to you both.”
    He beheaded the fern, sliding the sword back into its sheath with a look of satisfaction. Constantine was a handsome man in his own right, a little taller than me, with a muscular build, golden brown hair, and eyes just a shade darker. “You saved me, my beloved one. You truly are my mate. The Summoner is wrong—I am bound to you, Ysolde. I am bound to you until the end of time.”

Chapter Seventeen
    “ I have to ask you some questions, Constantine. Will you please stop doing that?”
    He ceased kissing my hand, but retained hold of it. “You saved me,” he said again.
    “Yes. About that . . .” I glanced at Maura.
    “I have an idea,” she said brightly. “Why don’t we all go back to the hotel, and you two can sort everything out there, where it’s comfortable and there are no mosquitoes to eat you alive!”
    “I always knew you would save me,” Constantine told me.
    “You did? That’s . . . uh . . . OK.” I debated asking him why he killed me in the first place if he felt that way, but decided there were more important things to discuss. Baltic’s patience was pushed about as far as it would go without snapping, and I had to get to the bottom of restoring Constantine’s honor before I could convince him to go on to his reward. “So, about this sin against the innocent that you committed . . . What exactly do you need me to do to restore your honor?”
    Constantine blinked at me. “What sin against the innocent?”
    “My death. At least, I assume that was the sin. Do you need me to formally forgive you for my death in the presence of a witness? I’m sure Maura would be happy to act in that capacity.”
    “I’d be delighted, but if we could do it back at the hotel—”
    “You’re speaking in riddles, Ysolde. Why would you forgive me for your death?”
    “The First Dragon told me I have to restore your honor to you.”
    “He did?” Constantine looked startled. “Why—”
    An explosion of words sounded behind me, a flurry of oaths as a large body burst through the dense wall of shrubs that had grown between two tall elms. “I knew it! I knew I would find you here with him!”
    “Oh, this is all I need,” I said to myself as I grabbed Baltic’s arm. He was shirtless, his arms and one side of his chest smudged with dirt. I picked off a leaf and brushed a bit of soil from his shoulder. “Where’s your shirt? What on earth have you been doing?”
    “Excavating my lair. Why is he alive? Why have you resurrected him? Why did you tell me you had no interest in him, and yet here you are skulking around with the man responsible for all the ills we have suffered?”
    “Baltic!” Constantine’s eyes narrowed as he pulled out his sword. “Long have I wished I