“Eh…” Kostya looked startled for a moment, then frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I was dead by then,” Baltic said, wrapping both his arms around me and pulling me tight against his body. “Ysolde, I was dead. Constantine had killed you. I could not exist without you. It didn’t matter that Kostya struck the blow — I could not have survived without you.” “It seems I have arrived at a most interesting moment,” a light Italian voice said.
I spat out a word I would never have said in front of Brom, dropped the chair leg, and turned in Baltic’s arms to hold him tight.
“Apparently, Ysolde just had another… er… dream, for lack of a better word,” Aisling said slowly. “And I think Baltic went with her.” “Ah,” Bastian said, obviously confused.
“Constantine did not kill Ysolde,” Gabriel said, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.
“We saw him,” Baltic said as I sniffled one last sniffle into his shirt, turning to face the others who stood in a semicircle around us.
“You’ve taken Jim?” I asked Aisling, noticing that the demon wasn’t present, although my spirits were too dulled to care much.
“No.” She gave me an odd look. “We had an agreement, and we’re standing by it. Jim will remain with you until the sárkány is over. Right now it’s in the kitchen, no doubt trying to mooch food away from your son.” “You saw him?” Drake asked us, frowning slightly. “You saw Constantine kill Ysolde?” I hesitated for a moment, remembering the trail of blood that led away from my body.
“Yes,” Baltic said, his arms tight around me. “We saw him standing over her lifeless body, a sword in his hand that dripped with blood. There was no one else there, just him.” I said nothing. The situation was too charged to discuss the trail of blood at that moment. The dragons were all on edge enough; I would have to speak later with Baltic, when we could discuss what it meant.
“No,” Gabriel said, shaking his head as he looked at his mate. “I can’t believe that. It doesn’t make sense. Constantine wouldn’t do that.” Baltic growled something very rude. “Did you know him?” “No.” Gabriel’s fingers flexed. “But my father served as his guard. He would not have done so had Constantine been without honor.” “Well, I did know him. There was no one else with Ysolde’s body. I myself witnessed him telling her that he would do what he had to do. Is that not so, mate?” I nodded. “He was furious with Baltic, and wanted nothing more than to destroy him. He said he felt affection for me, but…” I stopped speaking, unwilling to speculate in front of the other dragons.
“Do not distress yourself again, mate,” Baltic murmured in my ear, his arms tightening around me.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Gabriel said, shaking his head, his hand seeking May’s hand as if for comfort.
“Believe it, or don’t believe it — I don’t really care. In fact, at this moment, I’m inclined to go along with Baltic’s assertion that we don’t need anything to do with any of you, or with the weyr.” I clutched the love token I’d hung on a silver chain, sick of the constant struggle that seemed to fill my life now.
“Well, I have no idea what to say to that,” Aisling said, glancing at Drake. “I have to admit, though, that I’m starting to think that maybe talking with Baltic is a good thing.” Bastian strolled over to us, and before either Baltic or I could react, punched Baltic smack-dab in the nose. “They tell me you’re Baltic even though you do not look like him. I am glad. You will suffer for a very long time before you die for the deaths of my dragons.” I held Baltic back when he would have jumped on Bastian. “Please, don’t,” I begged him. “He’ll just hit you back, and then I’ll end up turning him into a banana, which means I’ll have to ask Dr. Kostich for help, and he’ll just call you fat again, and that’ll lead to me wanting to punch out his lights, and we’ll all end up brawling until there’s nothing left but you, me, and a bunch of bananas. And some melted lemon sorbet.” Baltic looked like he was going to go ahead and deck Bastian anyway, but when I touched his cheek and said, “Please?” he refrained.
“Febales!” he grumbled, his expression as black as his eyes. “I hope you like the looks of be with a crooked dose, because he just broke it.” “Oh!” I said, examining his face. His nose was swelling rapidly and had a decided list to the right. “Oh, dear. I don’t know how to set a nose. Gabriel, do you?” Gabriel stood silent, his lips in a mutinous line.
“I’m sure he does,” May said, prodding her mate in the side. “Go on.” “No,” Gabriel said, staring daggers at Baltic.
Bastian and Kostya nodded their agreement with Gabriel’s obstinate stand.
“Oh, for the love of all the saints!” I said, pushed almost past my point of patience. “It’s just a nose!” “I’b fide,” Baltic said nasally.
“You’re not fine. You need that set properly. Gabriel, please do this. If you insist on being stubborn, you can do it for my benefit, not for Baltic’s.” “Do you have any idea how many times he’s tried to kill me, kill my mate, or steal her in the last few months?” Gabriel said, pointing at Baltic. “I’m not going to set his damned nose.” “I nebber tried to kill your bate,” Baltic said with as much dignity as one could have with a nose approaching the approximate size, shape, and color of a ripe apple. “Steal her, yes. But not kill her.” “I won’t do it!” Gabriel said, but at a look from May, he marched forward, muttering things under his breath that I felt were better to pretend I didn’t hear, grabbed Baltic’s nose between his thumb and forefinger, and gave it a quick jerk. A horrible snapping sound made everyone present cringe. Everyone but Baltic, who swore profanely as he felt his poor, abused nose.
“There. It’s set. Can we get on to the part of the day where we sentence Baltic to death?” A banana clipped him alongside his head. He shot a startled look at me.
I, wearing an innocent expression, tended to the tiny bit of blood that seeped out of Baltic’s nostril, and said, “Why don’t all of you go out to the north pasture, where a tent and tables and chairs have been set up for the sárkány. Baltic and I will check on the canapés, although at this point, I don’t really give a damn about them either, but my mother raised me to show guests common courtesy even if it killed me. Which it did, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Did I see artichoke hearts? I love those.” Cyrene peered anxiously down the table. “With garlic and parmesan? Does anyone see them?” We were in the north pasture, a large open field mottled with wild grass and bare earth. I would have preferred a more civilized setting, but the only way I could get Baltic to agree to have the sárkány at his house was allowing it to be held in an open field, where no one could hide in ambush. I didn’t think the wyverns would do something like that, but agreed with him that it would be best not to take foolish chances.
The ladies were seated around a couple of tables pushed together. The wyverns were together in a small clutch, obviously discussing something about the sárkány. Baltic stood alone, watching everyone with a glower that would have leveled a T. rex.
Pavel and I had spent the day in the kitchen, making a few snacks that I intended on serving after the sárkány itself, but it appeared that all the discussion about the lemon sorbet had set appetites on edge.
“Here’s a plate for you and Jim,” I told Brom as I handed him a tray with two plates piled high with hors d’oeuvres and canapés. “You may eat it in the kitchen, and afterward, Pavel said you could play with his video game machine.” “I don’t see why we can’t stay out here and watch Kostya have a couple of hissy fits,” Jim complained, nosing the tray to see what was on it. “Hey, we don’t get any of the famous sorbet? My mouth is all set for it!” “I left some for you in the freezer, and I prefer that you and Brom stay out from underfoot during the meeting. Speaking of which, don’t pester the dragons, either. All the guards are remaining in the house, and none of them looked very happy.” “Yeah, yeah, I can handle a couple of bodyguards.” “Don’t handle them — leave them alone. We had enough of an argument to get them to leave the wyverns out here alone.” “She just wants us out of the way in case Kostya comes unglued on Baltic again,” Jim told Brom as they started toward the house. Brom stopped and turned back, a suddenly worried look on his face.