Cyrene as his mate in front of the weyr.”
“That’s what he said. I don’t see what the problem is. Can’t he just
“I don’t think so, no. Dragons mate for life, you see. All but reeve dragons, but those are few and far between.” She must have seen my look of confusion because she continued. “Reeves are special dragons. They have an unusually pure bloodline, and they are the only ones who can mate more than once. That is, if they have a mate and she or he dies, the dragon continues to live and can take another mate. Drake’s grandmother was a reeve. She had two mates, one a black dragon and one a green dragon. That’s why Drake is a green dragon, and Kostya is black. But we were talking about Cyrene.”
“There must be some sort of policy for the unnaming of a mate,” May said.
“I don’t think so. Drake has never mentioned anything of the sort, and I think he would have when Kostya named Cyrene as one.” She sat in a horribly overstuffed chair while May and I took an adjacent love seat. “I don’t think the situation has ever come up before, which means there may be some trouble at the weyr when all the mates are present.”
“Why would that be? Mates don’t do much, do they?” I asked, thinking back to the
“Yes, but it’s vital support. Mates are excused from weyr functions for only very limited reasons—childbirth being one of them, and illness or physical inability to attend another. Mates can also attend a
May’s eyes widened.
“Exactly,” Aisling said, nodding. “Can you imagine what would happen if something kept Kostya away from a
“
She was cut off as the door was flung open. Baltic stood in the doorway, blood dripping from his nose and eyebrow.
“Mate! You left me!”
“Of course we left,” I said calmly, quickly eyeing him for signs of injuries. He seemed to be favoring his left side, in addition to his other hurts. “You were all acting like idiots. You didn’t honestly expect us to stand there and watch you beat each other up, did you?”
“A proper mate knows that her place is at her wyvern’s side,” Drake said, pushing past Baltic into the room. He limped slightly, and appeared to be missing a tooth.
Aisling tsked and hurried over to him, wiping at the blood on his mouth.
May raised her eyebrows as Gabriel, also limping, followed Drake, a little groan escaping him when he sat in the spot I vacated. “ ‘Physician, heal thyself’ has a particularly fitting ring to it right now, but I suppose you don’t want to hear that, do you?”
“No,” he said, wincing as he flexed the fingers of one hand.
Kostya staggered in last, striking a pose at the door that lasted for three seconds before he crumpled and collapsed.
I looked at Baltic again. “I imagine you’re proud of yourself.”
“I have nothing to be ashamed of, if that is what you are implying.” He nodded to where both Aisling and May (who had evidently given in to Gabriel’s pathetic appearance) were murmuring softly as they tended their men. “Aren’t you going to cosset me as the other mates are doing?”
“I don’t think you deserve any cosseting, since it was you who started the whole thing by jumping Kostya.”
A groan came from the direction of the floor. “It was completely his fault. He’s wholly to blame for everything. Oh, god, I think I’m going to puke.”
Baltic looked at me out of his one good eye, the sadness in it sufficient that I pulled out a tissue and dabbed gently at the blood from his nose. “Sit down,” I said, pushing him into the overstuffed chair Aisling had been sitting in.
“Careful,” he warned, easing himself into the seat. “A couple of my ribs are broken.”
“They are?” I whirled around, suddenly furious. “All right, which one of you broke Baltic’s ribs?”
Drake and Gabriel pointed to the floor.
“He dislocated my shoulder and broke my collarbone, if that makes you feel any better,” Kostya said in a pained voice.
“Tough noogies. You and I are going to have a little talk later on, Konstantin Fekete,” I said, glaring at him.
“If I survive, you’re welcome to try,” he said in between groans.
It took us a few minutes to get everyone patched up and relatively hale, although all four men had to be provided with dragon’s blood, an extremely potent spicy sort of wine that only dragons and their mates could drink, before their regenerative powers kicked in and healed the worst of their hurts.
“Now perhaps we can get down to business and talk about this ridiculous war,” I said after everyone was comfortably situated. “I want to discuss the death of all those blue dragons, and what actual proof you have against Baltic regarding them.”
Drake’s phone buzzed. With a cross between an oath and a groan, he got to his feet and moved stiffly to the far end of the room to take the call.
“The proof was laid before you at the last
“Really? Then why haven’t you put a death sentence on his head the way you did mine?” I asked, more than a little riled at the thought of the way the entire weyr had jumped to erroneous conclusions.
“Fiat is . . .” Gabriel glanced across the room at Drake.
“Nutso.” Aisling finished the sentence. “Mad as a hatter, or so Drake and Bastian say. Jim would say he’s cracked, and for once, I agree with it. Drake tried to talk to Fiat last month, but he went off about a woman plotting his downfall, and how she’s arranged to have him killed after using him for her own purposes.”
“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