stop.
“I don’t know. If I’d have realized how quickly our world would change, I would have demanded more information. But no one foresaw the scope of what was happening. I don’t think even my parents recognized what was coming until it was too late.”
Ion lifts his face and blinks at the treetops, swallowing several times before continuing. “There were spies, counter-spies, double agents, double-cloaked spies.”
“Double-cloaked?”
“Known only by aliases upon aliases, cover stories to cover their cover stories. Espionage, smoke and mirrors, facts married in unholy union with illusion. Who was dragon and who was human? Unless you saw their eyes, you could not know for sure. And they had ways of disguising their eyes. Goggles and glasses and masks and hoods. Even contacts lenses only slightly more rudimentary than the kind you wear.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t know who the dragons were? Then how do you know—?”
“You saw the scars on my back?” Ion interrupts me. His voice is no longer so sad, but slightly defensive.
“Yes.”
“I was in dragon form when I received those. Where did they come from? Sword? Steel?” His Russian accent has grown thicker.
“Only dragon claws and dragon horns can pierce dragon scales.”
“Precisely.”
“Who gave you those?”
Ion leans back on his hands, face to the treetops, eyes closed.
I watch him, breath bated, waiting for his answer. He is telling the truth, isn’t he? I saw his injuries up close, felt them under my fingers as I massaged his back. They were deep cuts originally, not just surface scratches. If he’d been in human form, the injuries would have surely killed him. So he must be telling the truth.
“I have read accounts of what happened in those fatal minutes.” Ion’s words sound weary. “Forensic scientists have pieced together the story based on analysis of the site, remains of the royal family, and accounts of witnesses who were there. They make it sound so simple. Shots were fired. Nicholas was the first to die. The girls were wearing diamonds sewn into the bodices of their dresses—they suffered for that. Instead of dying from a few clean shots, they had to be speared with bayonets.”
“It doesn’t sound simple. It sounds chaotic.” I don’t mean to argue with Ion, but I have read of that dreadful middle-of-the-night execution, and I had a strong impression then that everything must have been a screaming, smoky, bloody frenzy. Didn’t rumors persist for years that one or more of the girls might have made it out alive? Obviously the facts of what happened are convoluted at best, and no doubt many of the witnesses had reason to lie about the details.
“I have tried, since that night, to remember. Sometimes I want to block out all the memories, but mostly I want to know what really happened. There was smoke and fire and screaming, the loud reports from the guns all echoing with terror and the blast of dragon fire.”
“Dragon fire?”
“There were dragons in that room. We—their dragon protectors—weren’t allowed to be near the royal family, not because our enemies necessarily knew what we were, but because they knew we were strong, competent, and determined to protect the Romanovs. We’d been sent away, but we were never far away. I don’t think many knew who we were, but then, obviously I didn’t know who all of them were. We got wind of the telegram ordering their execution, and we flew to the rescue. We arrived in time to save them. We should have saved them. But we were outnumbered.”
I’m watching Ion’s face as he talks, as he re-lives the terror, trying to make sense of it. His story comes out as confused as that night surely was. I try to help him piece it together. “You were outnumbered…by dragons?”
“Humans, dragons, both. I never saw who got me. I couldn’t see much of anything by that point, but I’d promised Alexei—we’d grown up together, he and I, almost the same age. I
“I don’t know. If I’d have realized how quickly our world would change, I would have demanded more information. But no one foresaw the scope of what was happening. I don’t think even my parents recognized what was coming until it was too late.”
Ion lifts his face and blinks at the treetops, swallowing several times before continuing. “There were spies, counter-spies, double agents, double-cloaked spies.”
“Double-cloaked?”
“Known only by aliases upon aliases, cover stories to cover their cover stories. Espionage, smoke and mirrors, facts married in unholy union with illusion. Who was dragon and who was human? Unless you saw their eyes, you could not know for sure. And they had ways of disguising their eyes. Goggles and glasses and masks and hoods. Even contacts lenses only slightly more rudimentary than the kind you wear.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t know who the dragons were? Then how do you know—?”
“You saw the scars on my back?” Ion interrupts me. His voice is no longer so sad, but slightly defensive.
“Yes.”
“I was in dragon form when I received those. Where did they come from? Sword? Steel?” His Russian accent has grown thicker.
“Only dragon claws and dragon horns can pierce dragon scales.”
“Precisely.”
“Who gave you those?”
Ion leans back on his hands, face to the treetops, eyes closed.
I watch him, breath bated, waiting for his answer. He is telling the truth, isn’t he? I saw his injuries up close, felt them under my fingers as I massaged his back. They were deep cuts originally, not just surface scratches. If he’d been in human form, the injuries would have surely killed him. So he must be telling the truth.
“I have read accounts of what happened in those fatal minutes.” Ion’s words sound weary. “Forensic scientists have pieced together the story based on analysis of the site, remains of the royal family, and accounts of witnesses who were there. They make it sound so simple. Shots were fired. Nicholas was the first to die. The girls were wearing diamonds sewn into the bodices of their dresses—they suffered for that. Instead of dying from a few clean shots, they had to be speared with bayonets.”
“It doesn’t sound simple. It sounds chaotic.” I don’t mean to argue with Ion, but I have read of that dreadful middle-of-the-night execution, and I had a strong impression then that everything must have been a screaming, smoky, bloody frenzy. Didn’t rumors persist for years that one or more of the girls might have made it out alive? Obviously the facts of what happened are convoluted at best, and no doubt many of the witnesses had reason to lie about the details.
“I have tried, since that night, to remember. Sometimes I want to block out all the memories, but mostly I want to know what really happened. There was smoke and fire and screaming, the loud reports from the guns all echoing with terror and the blast of dragon fire.”
“Dragon fire?”
“There were dragons in that room. We—their dragon protectors—weren’t allowed to be near the royal family, not because our enemies necessarily knew what we were, but because they knew we were strong, competent, and determined to protect the Romanovs. We’d been sent away, but we were never far away. I don’t think many knew who we were, but then, obviously I didn’t know who all of them were. We got wind of the telegram ordering their execution, and we flew to the rescue. We arrived in time to save them. We should have saved them. But we were outnumbered.”
I’m watching Ion’s face as he talks, as he re-lives the terror, trying to make sense of it. His story comes out as confused as that night surely was. I try to help him piece it together. “You were outnumbered…by dragons?”
“Humans, dragons, both. I never saw who got me. I couldn’t see much of anything by that point, but I’d promised Alexei—we’d grown up together, he and I, almost the same age. I
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