“Chuan Ren? I can see her wanting him dead after he stole her sept, but how has she used him? He has to be mad if he’s making paranoid claims like that. But perhaps he’s not so far gone that we can’t reason with him. Maybe we should talk to him again,” I suggested. “Maybe someone could get through to the rational part of his mind.”
“That’s doubtful,” Drake said, returning to us with only the slightest hint of a limp.
“You think he’s that mad?” I asked him.
“No.” He stood before Baltic, giving him a long, cold look. “You can’t question Fiat because he’s gone.”
His words 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
“You 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 not have Fodor say you participated in the death of a wyvern. Baltic is my responsibility.”
“He is your curse, you mean,” Drake said, his face impassive as Kostya carried me down the hallway, calling after him. “If you do not end it now, I will do so myself.”
Drake’s head snapped back, the sound of flesh striking flesh jerking us all out of the vision. “I . . . haven’t . . . forgotten,” I told him, rubbing my bruised fingers.
“OK, that’s going too far,” Aisling said, shoving me aside. “No one hits Drake! I know that some stuff went on in the past that no one is proud of, but that’s no reason to hit him now! Are you all right, sweetie?”
Baltic shook his head as he pulled me gently into his arms. “Always you were one to think with your heart and not your head. Ysolde, Ysolde . . . and people say I am violent beyond reason.”
“He had it coming,” I said, nursing my fingers for a moment before sanity returned. “I apologize for punching you in the eye, Drake. I was caught up in the emotion of the moment, and that wasn’t well done of me. However, I don’t appreciate you making up lies about Baltic.”
Drake stiffened under Aisling’s ministrations, gently moving her to his side as he glared at me, one eye slightly swollen and turning dark. “I do not lie!”
“Baltic didn’t let Fiat out!” I said loudly.
“His lieutenant did.”
“He couldn’t have, because he wasn’t even in Italy. He’s been in Riga, and then here,” I told them all.
“It’s true, mate.”
“And I’m just sick and tired of you guys believing the worst of Baltic! What is it with you people that you can’t, just once, believe what we’re saying? Why can’t you—” I stopped and turned to glance up at Baltic. “What?”
“Thala released Fiat.”
I think my jaw dropped at that. I’m not absolutely certain, but I have a nasty feeling that I stood there for a good five seconds staring at him in openmouthed surprise. “She did?”
“Yes.”
I prodded his arm when he said nothing more. “Why did she do that?”
“Did you ask her to free Fiat?” Aisling asked at the same time.
“If I had wanted Fiat free, I would have seen to it myself,” Baltic told her with grandiose hauteur.
“Then why did Thala set him free?” I repeated.
“I don’t know. She has become secretive of late. She said only that it would help achieve our goals.”
“You didn’t stop her,” Gabriel said, his body language showing just how angry he was, despite his placid expression. “Do you expect us to believe that you will not benefit from Fiat being at your beck and call?”
Baltic sighed. “No, I do not expect you to believe that, but that is because you delight in attributing to me the most heinous of motives. And yet the truth is that Fiat threatened to kill Ysolde and Brom. I was delighted that he was in the custody of the blue dragons, and I did not want him released.”