Sparks Fly: A Novel of the Light Dragons (25 page)

“Almost free,” she said in a dramatic voice, her eyes locked on the door. “Freedom, the sweetest of all balms to the immortal soul.”

“Oh, for the love of…no, Cyrene, Kostya cannot stay here. You may share Maura’s room if you like, but even though Baltic no longer wants to kill Kostya on sight, there’s no way he can stay in this house.”

“I don’t want to be in the same house as Baltic. I have a perfectly nice home in St. Petersburg.” Kostya shot a harried glance toward Cyrene. “Or I used to, before a certain watery tart tried repeatedly to break into it.”

Cyrene hung on to her smile for all she was worth. “Isn’t he cute?” she said, patting him on the arm. The expression in her eyes was less amused, however. “Kostie does enjoy his little jokes. But that is so kind of you to ask us to stay. We’d love to, naturally. I don’t think we’d be comfortable in a room with someone else, though, so if you could just give us a room with a nice big bed, we’ll be happy as two little clams.”

I ran my hand through my hair, feeling more than usually harried. “Just wait a few minutes, Cyrene, then we’ll talk about the situation. Maura—”

“No.” She stood at the front door, a firm, decisive expression warning that she had reached her limit. “No more excuses, no more good-byes, no more conversation. I’m in far more trouble than you can imagine, and I have to go call Emile in an attempt to keep the most horrible event you can imagine from happening. I don’t want to be rude, and I do appreciate the fact that you made my incarceration here as pleasant as possible, but the answer is still no.”

“But—”

“Good-bye, and good luck with whatever it is that Savian has undertaken on your behalf.”

The door closed firmly behind her as she left. I frowned at it for a moment, trying to decide what would be best to do with regard to her. I wanted to help her, and yet at the same time, I needed to know the location of the sepulcher. Perhaps if she got that information from Dr. Kostich, she would tell me, as well as Thala?

“Hellfire,” I swore, deciding that would never happen. If Savian didn’t come through with a location in the next twenty-four hours, I’d just have to try to get the information from Dr. Kostich myself.
Somehow.

“And damnation,” Kostya said, giving Cyrene an irritated frown.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice to you; I really am,” Cyrene said, frowning right back at him. “You could work with me!”

“I don’t want to do anything other than to wish you to the devil,” Kostya snapped before turning his back on her to face me. “Why are you here?”

“I live here,” I said, making a helpless gesture.

“In Riga?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That insane mate of yours intends on doing something here, doesn’t he?”

I set his feet on fire. He did nothing other than tighten his lips, although the fire made Cyrene squawk and leap back. “Baltic is not insane, which you very well know.”

“Does he intend to rebuild Dauva?”

“Of course he’s going to rebuild. Did you ever doubt he would? You know how much he loved it.”

“I cannot allow that,” Kostya said loftily, his voice rife with impatience. “It is too close to St. Petersburg, where my home is located. I will not have Baltic on the black dragons’ back doorstep.”

“Will you cease bothering my mate!”

I folded my arms over my chest and waited for the explosion. Baltic strode into the house, his dragon fire simmering inside him, his attention focused on Kostya.

“You don’t deny you are building here deliberately to threaten my sept?” Kostya spun around to ask.

“Has he annoyed you, Ysolde?” Baltic asked, his eyes as hard and shiny as hematite when he looked at Kost-
ya, but warm and full of mysterious depths when they turned to me. “You will not let me kill him, as I ought, I know, but I will see to it that he does not bother you in such a manner again.”

Kostya sneered. “As if you could—”

“What is going on, here? Are you having a party without me, my most beloved of all females?”

“Oh, that’s all we need,” I said, sighing and moving over to take Baltic’s arm, when he turned toward the voice at the open doorway. “Constantine, you have the worst timing of anyone I know.”

“Thank you,” he said, materializing just so he could grab my hand and press a wet kiss to it. “It warms me to my cods to know that you care.”

“She does not care about you or your cods!” Baltic snarled, snatching my hand away from Constantine. “She cares only about me and mine!”

“The current derangement of her mind is not as important a subject as one I have to impart to her regarding—godson!”

Constantine evidently just noticed Kostya standing to the side, because he turned to him with delight written all over his face. “Now you cannot escape me. I will challenge you once and for all for my sept.”

“You what?” Kostya asked, all astonishment.

“I was the heir to the black wyvern before Toldi even met your mother. Thus, the sept is mine by rights. If you do not hand it over, I will challenge you for it, although I shouldn’t have to challenge anyone for what is mine.”

“It is
my
sept,” Kostya said between grinding teeth. “I have no intention of letting you challenge me any more than Gabriel does, ghost.”

“I am a shade, not a trivial, unimportant spirit,” Constantine said with much dignity, straightening his shoulders. “And you have no choice in the matter. By the laws that govern the sept, I, Constantine of Norka, do hereby issue a formal challenge of transcendence to Konstantin Nikolai Fekete, who falsely claims the title of wyvern of the black dragons. You will not refuse if you have even a shred of honor to your name.”

“I have more than a shred, but I’m not going to fight you for my sept. You aren’t alive. You can’t be a wyvern,” Kostya said, looking somewhat pugnacious now. I couldn’t blame him for that—Constantine tended to have a one-track mind, and was currently clearly obsessed with the idea of fighting Kostya.

“You are a base coward,” Constantine said in an obnoxious voice, waving a hand toward Baltic. “Baser even than Baltic, who at least was not afraid to fight me.”

Baltic snarled something rude.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Kostya said, looking irritated.

“Oh, come on, Kostie—fight the ghost and then you’ll prove you’re the big bad wyvern,” Cyrene said, yawning and looking around the hall. “Which room did you say was mine, Ysolde? I’m a bit tired since the hotel was incredibly noisy.”

“What is this?” Baltic asked me, just as I was about to tell Cyrene where Maura had been staying. “Mate, I insist you stop inviting everyone you meet to stay with us!”

“I didn’t exactly invite her,” I said in a low voice.

“Fine!” Kostya bellowed, drawing our attention back to the two men who stood toe-to-toe in the middle of the room. “I accept your challenge. You will meet me body to body. I name as a second…I name…er…” He looked around the room. His gaze lit on me for a second,
and I thought he was going to demand I act as his backup for the challenge, but with an annoyed click of his tongue, he finished, “I name Baltic.”

“What? You can’t name him,” I said, wrapping an arm around Baltic in case he was about to charge Kostya. “You guys don’t like each other.”

To my absolute surprise, Baltic didn’t say anything right away. He looked hard at Kostya for a few seconds before his gaze shifted to Constantine. “I accept,” he said with a smile that had Constantine looking wary.

“Good,” Constantine said with one last look at Baltic. “Then I name Ysolde as second.”

“No,” Baltic snapped.

“Why not?” Constantine asked.

“Yes, why not?” I asked, prodding Baltic in the side. “I’ve never been a second before. It sounds rather dashing. I think I’d like to do it.”

“A second must be prepared to fight in place of the principal,” Baltic answered, his eyes flashing something unreadable at me. “Constantine may not care if you are injured, but I do.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry, Constantine. I don’t want to seem like a coward, but I wouldn’t be an effective second. Kostya doesn’t fight women, and he definitely wouldn’t fight me. That wouldn’t at all do if I was called upon to fulfill my duties as your second and fight in your place, and, of course, if Baltic was fighting for Kostya…well, you must see that it just wouldn’t work.”

“Very well,” Constantine said with an annoyed sniff. He waved his hand toward Cyrene, who was looking somewhat bored. “I’ll take the naiad as my second.”

“Me?” Cyrene squeaked. “But I’m a woman, too, and Kostya wouldn’t fight me.”

“I’d make an exception for you,” Kostya told her with a grim smile.

She looked indignant for a moment, then straightened her shoulders and gave Constantine a quick nod. “All right, I accept the position. I’ll be your second. But I get to beat the holy hell out of Kostya.”

“The gloves are off now, I see,” I said softly, elbowing Baltic. “You needn’t look so anticipatory, my darling. I’m sure Kostya will have enough spleen venting to do on Constantine to make your assistance unnecessary.”

“Kostya is weak. He will fall quickly to Constantine. I will not.”

“We will conduct the challenge now,” Constantine announced with a grand gesture. “A body-to-body challenge can take many forms. Which do you choose, Kostya?”

“Swords are always good,” Kostya answered, flexing his arms.

“We don’t have any swords,” I said, distracted when Cyrene tugged on my sleeve and said, “I need a bath. Which room is mine?”

“Second on the left. Bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.” She sniffed and looked at Kostya. “Since you are being silly about this whole thing, and not letting me stay with you, as a mate should, then I will remain here with Ysolde. When you get over your little snit, you can find me here.”

Kostya, who had been in the process of saying several snarky things to Baltic in Zilant, paused berating him to give Cyrene a dirty look. “That day will never come.”

“We’ll see.” She sniffed again and moved toward the stairs.

Kostya ignored her, saying to Baltic, “You overestimate your prowess, Baltic. As for your accusations, I have never failed a challenge. About Dauva—”

“I do not care about Dauva—I care about the challenge,” Constantine interrupted.

“Dauva will be rebuilt. I never overestimate anything, and you are tiring Ysolde. Leave, and take
that
with you.” Baltic gestured toward Constantine.

“Your boorish manners do not offend me; I have long been used to them. And I cannot leave just yet. First, we must have the challenge. Following the reclamation of my sept, I have business with Ysolde,” Constantine answered, turning his charming smile upon me. “You will want privacy for what I have to tell you, my lovely one.”

By dint of extreme control, I managed to keep from glancing at Kostya. “Oh. Um…yes. I’m sure we needn’t bore everyone else with such a trivial matter. There’s a small sitting room to the left. Why don’t we have our chat there now, and you can deal with the challenge later.”

“Ysolde—” Baltic said warningly.

I kissed his chin. “It’s all right; it’s just that little project I discussed with you earlier. There’s no need for your feathers to be ruffled.”

“I am a dragon, not a bird. I have scales.” His phone buzzed at that moment. He glanced at it, frowned even more, then heaved a sigh. “I am wanted at Dauva. The builders need guidance. I will trust that you will not allow that murderous whoreson spirit to impose upon your gentle nature, mate, but I will also remind you that I do not like having him in our lives, and just as soon as you have used him, he must leave and not return.”

“You can’t leave yet. We haven’t conducted the challenge, and I’m sure my godson will need you, given how ineffectual he appears,” Constantine said, swearing when he started to fade. “God’s toes, now you’ve made me use up almost all of my energy. Ysolde, most beloved of all dragons, let us go sequester ourselves away from this rabble, and we will conduct the challenge later, as you suggest.”

“Wait a minute,” Kostya said, looking as if he wanted to throw a tantrum as Baltic started for the front door,
Cyrene thumped her way up the stairs with a suitcase, and Constantine and I headed for the small, damp room off the main hall. “You can’t all just leave. I’m here to protest Baltic’s rebuilding on my land.”

I paused at the door to the sitting room. “You just asked him to be your second. I hardly think it’s nice to ask a favor from him, and then make a fuss about his building on land that you don’t even own.”

“The black dragons—” he started to say.

“Have nothing to do with us,” Baltic said with finality. “Dauva was my home before I was wyvern, and it will be so again. If you wish to lead that pathetic group of stragglers you call a sept, then do so, but your choice of location does not impact us in any way.”

Kostya clearly wanted to argue the point, but his grudging admittance of the truth—and the fact that Baltic walked out of the house—stymied that desire.

“I still say Dauva should be left in the past, where it belongs,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and walking swiftly to the door.

“Well, it’s not. And while we’re on the subject, let’s talk again about Dragonwood,” I yelled after him. His shoulder twitched as he left, but he didn’t respond. The rat.

My hand was on the doorknob to the sitting room when my phone bellowed out my name. I glanced at the caller, answering it with a cheery, “Hello, Aisling.”

“Hi, Ysolde. Has Kostya left yet?”

“Er…yes, he just left. How did you know he was here?”

“We’re keeping tabs on him. She says he’s gone, sweetie, so we can keep driving.”

Curiosity got the better of me. “Where are you driving to?”

“To see you, of course. But we didn’t want Kostya to know we’re in the area, because then he’ll want us to stay
with him, and if we do that, he’ll tag along when Drake goes to the L’au-dela vault you mentioned, and
that
would just be all shades of awkward.”

I shuddered at the thought. “It would indeed. But…um…I guess we can find room for you, although it may mean doubling up if Drake’s guards are with you.”

“Oh, we’re not moving in!” Aisling gave a little laugh. “Drake takes security very seriously when it concerns the babies, so he rented us a house in the suburbs of Moscow. We just flew into Riga—it takes only two hours, which means we won’t have to leave the babies overnight—so that we could meet with you and get this shindig under way.”