Sparks Fly: A Novel of the Light Dragons (28 page)

Constantine struck Alexei’s hand aside. “Because you wanted him for your heir all along, did you not? You named me as heir while he was young and unlearned, but all along you intended for him to take the sept when
you could no longer hold it. You lied to me! You took my oath and swore the sept would be mine; yet you never intended for me to have it!” Constantine stormed around Alexei, his free hand gesturing wildly.

I watched his other hand, the one holding the sword, knowing in my heart that Baltic had been right, and that Constantine was responsible for the death of Alexei. Was this the moment when he died? It must be—there would be few other reasons but murder that would prompt Baltic to send Brom away.

“I will not have it!” Constantine screamed.

Alexei frowned. “Recall yourself, Constantine. You allow your anger to overrule your mind, and forget who and what you are, and what you owe to me. You will not—”

“No! It is you who will not.” Constantine took a deep breath. “You will not destroy me in this fashion. You will not bring Baltic back into the sept.”

“It is already done,” Alexei said, his shoulders slumping a little. “I have accepted his fealty and granted him status within the sept once again. There is nothing you can do to change what fate has already written.”

Constantine was working himself up into a frenzy, screaming curses at his wyvern.

Baltic’s grip on my fingers turned painful as without warning, Constantine lunged forward. I spun around at the move, but not before I saw the sword flash and blood spray out in an arc.

“Oh my god!” Aisling gasped in a choked voice.

Baltic pulled me against his chest, his hands hard on my arms. I clung to him and bit back a sob, the emotions of the scene too much for me.

“I will never suffer Baltic as wyvern! This sept will be mine, or I will see it destroyed!”

“He really was mad, wasn’t he?” I asked Baltic, wiping my eyes on his shirt before looking up at him. “You
weren’t exaggerating when you told me he wanted to see you and the sept destroyed.”

“I wasn’t exaggerating,” he said, his muscles tight as Constantine stormed through the middle of us, blood dripping from his sword, a fanatical light in his eyes.

“But he seems so normal now. Well, somewhat normal,” Aisling said, shuddering as she looked away.

“His madness was always cold by nature rather than hot,” Baltic said, his eyes still on the figure of his dead grandfather. “He had sane moments, but it was the madness that drove him on and kept him attacking the black dragons when others would have ceased.”

“And now?” I touched Baltic’s cheek, drawing his attention away from tragic memories. “Is he being coldly mad now?”

“No. I thought at first he was, but I see now that the act of being raised as a shade has changed him, leached the madness out of him.”

Behind us, present-day Constantine yelled, “You call me a douche canoe? I am not the douche canoe—you are. No, you are more than that—you are a douche speedboat!”

“
Most
of the madness,” Baltic qualified.

Savian laughed, then immediately looked guilty. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make light of a somber occasion.”

“It matters not,” Baltic said briskly, turning with me and striding out of the tower. “That event was long in the past. Constantine paid the price for his actions of that day.”

“By sacrificing himself for me when I was killed?” I asked, trotting after him.

“That was later. He suffered most when I threw him and his followers out of the sept.”

I stopped so quickly that Aisling, directly behind me, bumped into me, immediately murmuring an apology.
“You threw them out? No, that’s not right. Gabriel told me that the silver dragons left the black sept.”

“Gabriel was not there. I was.” Baltic stopped, saw the look on my face, and sighed one of his highly perfected martyred sighs. “I can tell by your expression that you are not going to let this rest in the past, where it should remain.”

“Damned straight, I’m not.” I approached him, searching his face for signs of distress, but he had once again mastered his emotions. “Are you sure you kicked them out? Because everyone else seems to think that Constantine left the sept because he didn’t want to be a part of it while you were wyvern.”

“That’s what Drake told me,” Aisling said, looking to Drake for confirmation.

He shrugged. “It is what Constantine told us when the silver dragons joined the weyr.”

“Now, just wait a second,” I said, stopping Baltic when he would have continued. Dimly, the noises of Constantine and Kostya yelling at each other were still audible, letting us know they were still engaged in their battle. I wanted badly to ask him about whether Pavel was right in hinting that Constantine had taken Baltic’s talisman, but I didn’t feel right mentioning it in front of Drake. Instead, I went back to the main point of my confusion. “From what I’ve gathered, all along Constantine has made a big deal about the silver dragons forming because they didn’t want to stay in the sept while you were running it into the ground.” I made air quotes about the last few words. “Which is stupid, because you did no such thing, but that’s always been Constantine’s big thing…they left to form their own sept.”

“They formed a sept, but only after I removed Constantine and the dragons who attacked the rest of our sept.” Baltic’s eyes were unreadable. “You have some
memories of Constantine. Do you expect that he would have made it known to all that he had been made ouroboros?”

“No,” I said after some thought. “He always did have a bit of a sensitive ego.”

“Just playing devil’s advocate, I’d like to point out that no one knew Baltic was kicked out of the black dragons, too. At least I don’t think anyone knew. Sweetie?”

“No,” Drake said, his face as placid as ever. “That fact was not known to me until just a few minutes ago.”

Baltic shrugged. “I did not hide it, the way Constantine has hidden the truth. It simply did not matter, since Alexei reinstated me as his heir.”

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I find it very interesting that Constantine got the boot,” I said, stumbling after Baltic when he took my hand and returned through the complex tapestry of the past to the present day.

The battle was over by the time the last few tendrils of the vision had faded away into distant memory, at which point, Kostya soundly beat Constantine…or he would have if Constantine hadn’t suddenly run out of energy.

“No!” the spectral voice of Constantine howled, echoing through the half-dead trees as he faded from our view. “Not now! I cannot lose power right when—”

Kostya picked himself up from the ground, where he’d been thrown by Constantine, breathing heavily as he wiped blood from his eyes and shifted back into human form. “What…happened?” he panted, looking around for his missing challenger.

Baltic swore profoundly. “I knew he would do that before Kostya failed and I could take over.”

“Will you stop saying I’m going to fail!” Kostya snapped, wiping the blood flowing from his nose.

“I’m sorry that you can’t vent your animosity a bit by
beating him up, but I’m not sorry that you can’t fight,” I told Baltic, somewhat confusedly.

“I did not fail!”

“You will cease being concerned that I will be hurt. Unlike you, I have not died repeatedly,” Baltic said with lofty disregard.

“I would not have failed, either, which you would see for yourself if Constantine had not disappeared!”

“Neither death was my fault, I’d like to point out,” I said with much righteousness. “It’s not like I go around getting killed just for the fun of it.”

“I am wyvern! I do not fail!” Kostya weaved as he staggered toward us, suddenly sitting down very hard.

I sighed and looked over to him. “I suppose I’m going to have to call the healer again.”

“I am not hurt. I don’t need a healer,” Kostya said, and promptly fell over onto his side as he moaned softly to himself.

“Take him into the sitting room,” I said with a dispassionate eye as Drake, looking somewhat annoyed, scooped up his brother, tossed him over his shoulder, and started for the house, Aisling and Jim trailing behind.

“I
knew I would find you here. Always when you are upset, you retreat to the garden.”

“You know me so well.” I moved the camping light a foot to the side and knee-walked after it to settle in front of a choked tangle of weeds and daisies. “If we’re going to stay here for a while during the rebuilding of Dauva, I’d like to be able to enjoy the garden area. It will be quite a nice little spot once the beds are weeded, although not many of the flowers have survived. Just a few aphidy roses, and what I suspect are wild daisies.”

“We will hire someone to do this work,” Baltic told me in his usual bossy tone.

I slanted a look up at him and sank my fingers into the earth, gently separating the roots of the weed from that of a daisy. “I enjoy weeding, as you well know.”

“I know it, but I do not wish for you to overwork yourself.”

I looked up again, searching his face, but there was nothing there to indicate anything other than mild concern.
I murmured something noncommittal before asking, “Did Kostya take off?”

“The green wyvern took him once the healer was done. Why did you leave? Pavel was distressed that you missed the meal he prepared.”

I yanked out a few more weeds, trying to find the words to explain the sense of despair that had come over me while the healer was fixing Kostya’s ills. “Does it ever seem too much to you, Baltic? All the death and betrayal and inevitability? And don’t tell me you don’t care—you may have the reputation of being a heartless fiend, but you feel things just as deeply as I do.”

He knelt beside me, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel his warmth. “I should not have allowed that vision to continue. It distressed you.”

“It isn’t that. Well, yes, it did distress me, but only because I don’t like seeing anyone die, even if that event was almost a thousand years ago.” I jerked out a clump of crabgrass and swore when the tough fibers of the plant slid along my hand and cut my palm.

“You always were fairly squeamish despite your bloodthirsty nature,” Baltic said, taking my hand and blowing a little fire across it.

“I am not bloodthirsty! Nor am I squeamish. I’ve never been squeamish. I just don’t like people killing one another. Is that so wrong?” Another wave of despair washed over me, causing me to lean into Baltic, needing him to bring hope and happiness back into my life.

“This is not about Alexei’s death,” he said, brushing a tear off my cheek. “What distresses you,
chérie
?”

“Everything.” I made a vague gesture. “Your refusing to let me make the First Dragon happy. Constantine’s fighting everyone for a sept. The business with Kostya and stealing back our shard from him. And having Drake—” I stopped.

“I wondered when you were going to tell me why the green wyvern came to visit you,” Baltic said with deceptive mildness. He kissed the palm of my hand, now healed. “You bring the woes of the world upon yourself, my love. It was ever so, but I grow tired of seeing you with dark circles under your eyes. You will cease to worry about the First Dragon. What he thinks is of no importance to us. And I will speak to Constantine, and make it clear he is not to trouble you again. As for Kostya—”

“No, I don’t want you cutting everyone off. Don’t you see?” I clutched his shirt and shook it. “You’re so insular, Baltic. You never used to be this way, but you are now, and I just can’t live like that. Constantine may be an annoying remnant of a former madman, but he was once your friend.”

“He was also my bitterest enemy.”

“I grant you that, but that was when the madness took over. And Kostya was your closest friend.”

“Until he killed me.”

I ground my teeth for a few seconds. “You allowed him to kill you. You admitted that yourself.”

“Only because I knew you had died, and I did not wish to live without you.”

I melted against him, kissing him even as I pulled on his dragon fire. “You have always been able to distract me just by saying things that you know will make me a puddle of goo in your hands.”

“If that were true, then I would never hear a dissenting word from these sweet lips.” His mouth was hot on mine, as demanding as ever, his tongue twining itself around mine, firing up both my passion and my need for him until they blazed within me, singeing my soul with their strength.

I moaned when he kissed his way along my collarbone, sliding off my shirt to gently cup my breasts, his fingers
teasing the flesh above my bra. “Baltic, we shouldn’t, not here.”

“I wish to indulge your fantasy for making love outside,” he murmured, his hands moving around behind me to unhook my bra, the slight stubble on his cheeks making me arch backward as his cheeks brushed the underside of my breasts.

My fingers worked rapidly down the buttons of his shirt, tugging it out of his pants as I moaned again. “Someone could see us. The garden is visible from the house.”

“Only from our room.” He got to his feet when I tugged on his belt, quickly removing his shoes and pants before sliding his hands up under my skirt, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of my thighs.

“Brom,” I panted, licking a path along his collarbone to his jaw, which I nipped, my own hands stroking up his chest and arms.

“Watching a DVD on ancient cultures with Nico.”

“Then I guess—oh yes, right there, my darling—then I guess we are safe out here.” I released the earlobe I was sucking and leaned backward, reaching for the gardening bag at the same time I gave him my very best sultry-eyed look. “Which means we can finally try—”

“There you are. I wondered where everyone got to after dinner. Are you gardening at night? Isn’t it hard to see the plants?” Cyrene loomed up out of the darkness, her eyes bright with interest as she took in our state of undress. “Oh, you’re naked.”

I made an eeping sort of sound as Baltic pulled me behind him. I grabbed his shirt and tossed it onto his lap, getting to my knees to peer over his shoulder at the intruder. “Hello, Cyrene. I thought you went into town to visit the local spa.”