Chapter 5
“I don’t like this,” Julius muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Congratulations,” said Bethesda, tossing back the last of her cognac as her body sank lower into the pile of gold she was using as a makeshift couch. “We’ve finally found something we can agree on.”
Julius’s answer to that was a long sigh. It had been four hours since the Golden Emperor and his court had accepted Julius’s offer to stay at the mountain until Ian returned. When he’d suggested the idea, he’d assumed everyone understood this meant the Chinese dragons would be their guests, but the Golden Empire must have had a different definition of the word “hospitality.” The moment she’d gotten inside, the Empress Mother had taken over, directing her dragons to spread out and occupy every abandoned inch of the Heartstriker’s ancient fortress.
It wasn’t just a draconic effort, either. The emperor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d brought his own things. Not ten minutes after Julius invited them in, planes full of supplies, furniture, and human servants had begun arriving, crowding the airstrip and filling the once-empty mountain to bursting again. But while the new influx had at least fixed their staffing problem—particularly in the kitchens, which were now working overtime to feed a mountain full of dragons—the Heartstrikers were not included.
While the Chinese court had made themselves at home, taking over the rooms normally reserved for upper-alphabet Heartstrikers, including, to Bethesda’s great upset, the throne room and her apartments, which had now been claimed as the personal quarters of the Qilin and his mother, their “hosts” had been pushed further and further down. The guest rooms, the human staff wing, the garage—all were apparently vital to assuring the emperor’s comfort. In the end, the only part of the mountain their “guests” didn’t require were the overflow vaults in the storage sub-basement, which was how Julius found himself sitting with his mother and Fredrick on top of the piles of gold that had once been the Heartstriker’s treasury.
“At least my gold is safe,” Bethesda said for the thousandth time. “I stayed up all night making what was left of the staff move it down here so it would be well guarded while we were on the run. Never thought I’d be locked down here with it, of course, but at least we’re together.” She ran her hands lovingly over the yellow coins before refilling her drink from the only bottle from her private liquor cache Amelia hadn’t polished off. “Here’s to forethought.”
“You should have had the forethought to check your informants,” Fredrick growled, pacing the clear spot in front of the vault door as he’d been doing for the last hour. “An entire dragon clan flew across half the world to invade us, and we were still caught unawares. Gold can’t fix that.”
“We were invaded by the living embodiment of good fortune,” Bethesda said with a shrug. “If I had his luck, no one would see me coming, either. And why are you yelling at me? Julius is clan head now, too. That makes this debacle his fault as much as mine, but I don’t see you snipping at him.” She finished her drink in a single gulp. “And for the record, gold helps everything. We might be trapped now, but Heartstriker is still a rich and powerful clan. Just you wait until Conrad, Justin, and the others are in position. We will rain down vengeance on the Golden Emperor like he’s never seen! Let’s see him luck his way out of that.”
She cackled at the thought, and Julius sighed again. Part of him was terrified by her words. An open clan war was the worst of all possible outcomes. But the cynic in him saw his mother’s behavior for what it was: the drunken ravings of a desperate dragon who was utterly and thoroughly trapped. They all were. This delay had been his idea, but Julius was all too aware that Heartstriker was already conquered in all but name. The fact that they were locked in the basement of their own fortress was just the icing on the cake.
His hope now—his only hope—was to find a loophole in the surrender agreement. An angle, an outside case, something the Chinese dragons hadn’t considered that he could exploit to buy Heartstriker a way out of this that didn’t involve giving up or starting a war. Because there would be a war. Julius wasn’t sure about the rest of his family, but Justin would fight any foreign rule to the death. The same went for Conrad, and if the knights fought, others would join, which meant a lot of dragons he cared about would die. They could all die if he didn’t figure out a plan to fix this, but despite having read it ten times now, the surrender agreement the emperor’s aide had given them still didn’t make sense to him.
“I don’t like this.”
“So you keep saying,” his mother drawled.
“Because it keeps being true,” Julius growled, smacking the scroll in his hands. “This surrender doesn’t make any sense! Why are they being so nice to us?”
Bethesda choked on her cognac. “That’s what you take issue with?” she sputtered. “They’re too nice? I thought that was your entire shtick.”
“Not when it’s suspicious! The Golden Emperor has us over a barrel. He has zero reason to give us any concessions, but these terms read like a love letter. Listen to this.”
He unraveled the scroll, sliding the elegant paper between his fingers until he reached the English translation of the Chinese text. “The introduction is exactly what you’d expect: unconditional surrender, weakness of our clan before the emperor’s might, and so on. After that, though, it goes off the rails. The first ‘demand’”—he lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“is that once we’re conquered, Heartstriker will retain the right to self-rule and join the Golden Empire as one of its clans. We also keep control of all our territories, assets, and businesses. He’s not even charging us taxes for the first hundred years.”
“Really?” Bethesda scowled thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s wonderful,” Julius agreed. “That’s the problem. They invaded us knowing we couldn’t fight back, but this surrender is written like they’re afraid we’ll say no. Why? They made it abundantly clear this morning how much they hate our clan and you personally, but there’s not even a mention of you stepping down.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. We’re under their boot. They should be demanding heads on spikes, not giving us sweetheart deals.”
“I’d demand heads on spikes,” Bethesda said wistfully. “But while I’m sure the Empress Mother dreams of stuffing me for display, the Qilin’s always been odd. They don’t call him benevolent for nothing. With luck like his, he can afford to be.”
“This goes way beyond benevolence,” Julius said. “This is insanity. There’s no fealty requirement, no demands for changes to our clan structure, no land grabs or tribute. Other than accepting him as our ruler and joining his empire, he’s literally asking for nothing. If I’m reading this part about imperial funds distribution correctly, we might even make money off this deal, and that just makes no sense to me. Why bother conquering us at all if he isn’t going to get anything out of it? Why is he being so nice?”
“If I were less depressed, the hypocrisy of hearing you say that would make my day,” his mother said. “But loath as I am to admit you’re right about anything, what does it matter? Like you just said, we can’t turn him down. I fully intend to rally our clan and make those Chinese snakes rue the day they set foot in our desert, but unless I can do it by tomorrow morning, we’re going to have to bow our heads and take his offer. If the emperor wants to be overly generous about it, why should we stop him? It’ll just make our inevitable rebellion that much easier.”
“Because I don’t want to rebel,” Julius said angrily. “I don’t want to surrender at all, especially not if it means signing something that is so obviously a trap.”
“Maybe it’s not,” she said. “I just watched you read that contract ten times over, and it’s not as though you don’t know how to read between the lines. I had to sit through six hours of your legal nitpicking just yesterday, if you’ll recall.” She shrugged. “If you can’t find the poison in that apple, maybe it’s not there.”
“But it has to be,” he said, staring at the paper. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Why would he go through all the trouble of conquering Heartstriker if he doesn’t actually want to conquer Heartstriker?”
“Who cares what he wants?” Bethesda snapped, sitting up at last. “If he wants to piss away his chance to crush us, why are you fighting it? You’re a clan head of Heartstriker now. You need to think about what’s best for us.” She waved her glass at the contract in his hands. “If he’s going to be a fool about this, we should take full advantage. I say sign ourselves over and leverage the bastard’s luck for all he’s worth. It’ll give Algonquin a new target if nothing else. While they’re duking it out, we’ll use all the space he’s left us to rebuild our power so we’re ready to stab him in the back as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”
That was a suitably draconic plan. Julius didn’t even have any particular moral compunction against betraying the dragons who’d forced them to join in the first place. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on here. He’d heard the cold disdain in the Qilin’s magnificent voice. Dragons like that didn’t conquer clans just to shower them in kindness. He was here for a reason, and if that reason wasn’t actually the conquest of the Heartstriker clan, then there was still a chance Julius could find a way out of this without any bowing or backstabbing.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” he said, standing up.
Bethesda slumped back down to her gold. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“I got it from my mother.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not going to talk to you.”
“We don’t know that until I try,” Julius said, grabbing his Fang from the gold pile where he’d set it down and fastening the sword to his belt. “But I have to do something. I don’t care how good the terms are. I didn’t work this hard just to turn around and hand Heartstriker over to someone else. I stalled this for a day. I’m going to use it. It’s not like we’ll be any more conquered if I fail.”
“Don’t count on that,” Bethesda warned. “As I’ve learned the hard way these last two weeks, things can always get worse. But I’ve also learned there’s no point in trying to stop you from doing stupid things, so knock yourself out. If you need me, I’ll be here plotting our revenge.”
She rolled over, putting her back to him as she sprawled her human body across the gold coins the way she used to as a dragon. Julius shook his head at her one last time and turned to go, but as he reached for the door, Fredrick grabbed his arm.
“Not you too,” Julius muttered.
“You misunderstand,” the F said, his voice oddly quiet. “I’m not trying to keep you from seeking an audience with the Qilin. I actually think that’s an excellent idea, but you can’t leave yet.”
“Why not?”
Fredrick cast a worried look at the metal door. “Because we have a visitor.”
Julius was opening his mouth to ask who in the world would visit them now when the vault door of the overflow treasury swung open to reveal a very tall, very not Heartstriker dragon. He looked regal in a long black silk robe that looked like it had been stolen from the set of a Chinese period drama. But though his human form was clearly modeled after mortals of Han Chinese descent, he wasn’t one of the Golden Emperor’s dragons.
Julius knew that last bit for a fact, because he’d seen this dragon before. It was the third seer, the one who’d been with Bob the night he’d killed Estella. The Black Reach.
“Hello, Julius Heartstriker,” he said, flashing him a smile that didn’t touch his silvery eyes. “I was hoping we might have a word.”
“Okay,” Julius said, shooting a nervous look at Fredrick, who didn’t look any happier. “Now?”
“Now would be best,” the Black Reach said, stepping back into the hallway.
Julius stayed put. Technically, he supposed being singled out by the world’s oldest and greatest seer was an honor, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to speak with the Black Reach, and not because he was actually Dragon Sees Eternity, the construct tasked with overseeing the future of all dragons. That actually inclined Julius to like him since his brother, Dragon Sees the Beginning, had been so helpful to him and Marci. He didn’t want to talk because the Black Reach was the dragon Bob had claimed was destined to kill him, and as mad as he was at his brother right now, Julius would never want anything to do with that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, backing up. “But I don’t think I have time. I need to go talk to the emperor before—”
“This will only take a moment,” the Black Reach promised, folding his hands behind his back. “It’s about your brother.”
Julius had a lot of brothers, but he didn’t think the Black Reach was here to talk about Justin. “You know where Bob is?”
“I know where he will be,” the seer replied. “More than that I can’t say in company.”
He looked pointedly at Fredrick, and Julius ground his teeth. He didn’t want to play this game. Not only was this sudden visit almost certainly part of some long-running seer plot to close the trap around his brother, but he didn’t have time. The day of grace he’d connived to buy them was already half over. He couldn’t afford to waste more of it in the quagmire that was talking to a seer. That said, this might be his only shot at finding out where Bob was, maybe even what he was planning. After all, if anyone knew what Bob was up to, it would be the Black Reach. If that was true, though, why was he here? What information did the construct of the future need from Julius that he couldn’t see for himself?
He had no idea. As always, though, trying to think his way through all the angles of seer logic did nothing but give him a splitting headache. There were simply too many variables, too much he didn’t know to make the call on whether going along with this was a bad idea or a good one. But anxious as he was to get away from the seer and up to the emperor, the need to know outweighed everything else. Even knowing this was likely all part of a plot to trap his brother, Julius couldn’t pass up what might be his only chance to find out what Bob was doing. So, with a deep breath, he stepped out into the hall, motioning for the Black Reach to follow him down the corridor.
***
The storage complex in the basement of Heartstriker Mountain was a properly draconic warren. Most of the tunnels led to vaults like the one his mother had taken over for her gold, but there were also plenty of smaller, normal rooms for spare furniture, out-of-season linens, holiday supplies, and whatever else housekeeping needed stuffed into closets. Since he didn’t share his mother’s love of sleeping on piles of metal, no matter how shiny, Julius had claimed one of these as his temporary room, and that was where he took the Black Reach now.
“Sorry it’s so cramped,” he said, moving Amelia’s ashes and Marci’s bag off one of the sheet-covered couches so the eldest seer could sit. “We’ve had some unexpected guests.”
The construct arched an eyebrow at the understatement but didn’t comment. He just sat down on the sofa, folding his hands in his lap like a polite guest waiting for his tea.
“So,” Julius said nervously, grabbing a spare dining chair from the stack in the corner so he’d have a seat as well. “How may I help you?”
“Actually,” the seer said. “I’m here because I believe I can help you.”
That was enough to raise every hair on Julius’s body. Nice or not, there was nothing that got a dragon’s guard up like another dragon suddenly offering to help. “Why would you do that?” he asked, turning in his seat so he could bolt for the door if necessary. “You don’t know me.”
“But I know Brohomir very well,” the Black Reach replied. “I know he has invested a great deal in you, which makes you of great interest to me.” He tilted his head. “You know what I am.”
It wasn’t a question, but Julius answered anyway. “You’re Dragon Sees Eternity, an immortal construct built by the ancient dragons from our home plane to ensure what happened there never happens again.” He smiled nervously. “My friend and I had a long talk with your brother, Dragon Sees the Beginning.”
The Black Reach nodded as though being outed as a magical amalgam from another plane were perfectly routine. “And do you know how I do that? How I guard against the mistakes that must never be repeated?”
Julius began to sweat. “You kill seers.”
The Black Reach nodded. “It is a heavy duty, but a necessary one. If you’ve met my brother, you’ve seen your old plane, the tiny speck of wasteland that’s left of it, anyway. What happened there was a tragedy, the final result of an eons-long path of greed and short-sightedness. All were complicit, but seers were the driving force. They were the ones who sold the future to buy the present, dooming all dragons in the process. The only reason you exist is because a handful of your ancestors were fast enough to get through the portal ahead of the collapse and take refuge here, on this plane.” He put a hand on his chest. “I exist to make sure that never happens again.”
He said this with the utmost gravity, and Julius absolutely agreed. No one who’d seen the ashen waste of the dragons’ old home could ever claim what had happened there was anything but a disaster. But that still didn’t explain why the Black Reach was talking to him.
“Because you are important to Brohomir,” the seer said before he could ask. “You are the key to his plans.”
“But I don’t know what those are!” Julius cried. “I have no idea what he’s doing or why he’s doing it. I don’t even know where he is!”
“That doesn’t matter,” the Black Reach said dismissively. “Wherever he is right now, it is certain he will come back to you.”
“Oh,” Julius said, not sure whether to be relieved or terrified. “Did you foresee that?”
“No,” the seer said, shaking his head. “You are Brohomir’s pawn, and he shrouds you well. But while I can’t see your future specifically, I’ve always known his. That’s why I’m here. I’ve watched your brother since before he hatched, which means I’ve observed his specific interest in you for a long time. It’s been quite fascinating. I’ve seen a lot of strategies for manipulating the future over the past ten thousand years, but I’ve never seen a seer pin everything so completely on one point.” He reached out to tap a long finger against Julius’s chest. “You.”
Julius swallowed.
“At this point, the word ‘linchpin’ is an utterly inadequate description for the role he’s put you in,” the Black Reach went on. “At this stage, every plot Brohomir spins up leads back to you in some fashion. I can see them all, every string he pulls and line he casts, and yet I still don’t understand why.”
“That makes two of us,” Julius said, slumping in his chair. “What you’re saying isn’t exactly a surprise. Bob’s told me a couple times now that I was his crux, though he didn’t make it sound quite that important. But I still have no idea what he wants, or why he picked me.”
“That’s perfectly normal,” the Black Reach assured him. “No pawn sees the whole game. But since you are so important, I feel I must warn you that your brother has turned down a dangerous path. I may not understand all his motives yet, but I have seen his future, and it is not one I can allow. If he continues on his present course, I will have no choice but to—”
“Kill him,” Julius said, stomach clenching. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
“I am,” the seer said quietly. “But before you label me the enemy, know that I am here precisely because I want to avoid that fate. Like every seer before him, Brohomir knows what he must do to preserve his life. He’s known I am his death since he was younger than you, and how to avoid it. He knows perfectly well the temptations he must not touch, yet he still pursues them, and I don’t know why.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees so he could look Julius in the eyes. “That’s why I’ve come to you. You’re his pivot, the point around which all his plans revolve. I was hoping that, if you told me what he’s asked you to do, it might help us both better understand his motives and prevent an unfortunate end.”
He said that so earnestly, Julius almost answered before he could think about it. But as desperate as he was to save his brother, he wasn’t that stupid.
“Why should I tell you anything?” he said suspiciously. “You just said you’re going to kill him.”
“Only if he makes me,” the Black Reach said, his eyes sad. “I do not enjoy killing seers, Julius. I may not be a living dragon as you are, but I’m not actually made of stone. I’ve known every seer that’s ever been born on this plane. I watched them all grow and guided them as best I could, but it’s neither my purpose nor my place to dictate the future of our kind. Even when I care for a seer greatly, I can’t force them to choose as I would like. I exist for one purpose: to be a check on the power of seers and ensure our future is never sold again.”
“But, if that’s all you do, why are you their death?” Julius asked. “Why is every seer’s first vision you killing them if you only come out when they break your rule?”
“Because no seer can resist,” the Black Reach said angrily. “You saw what Estella did just with the chains, and that was only a minor manifestation. The power to force the future is always there. Waiting. Tempting. It may take thousands of years, but sooner or later, every seer comes up against a battle they can’t win with knowledge of the future alone. When that happens, they inevitably reach for the one weapon that will guarantee their victory, and I am forced to stop them.”
“But why?” Julius asked again. “They’ve all seen their deaths, right? They know you’re going to kill them for doing it, so why try?”
“Because every seer thinks they’re special,” he said, shaking his head. “They spend their entire lives knowing things others don’t and using that knowledge to do the impossible. When you’re that powerful, it’s only a small stretch to thinking you’re unstoppable. That you can do what no one else has ever done. That you can beat me.”
“Can they?” Julius asked. “I mean, I get that you’re older and better and can probably run circles around any other seer, but no one’s actually invincible.”
“I am,” the Black Reach said calmly. “I know that sounds like boasting, but this is what I was created for. I was constructed by the greatest seers of our old world specifically to be a weapon against them. I can’t be defeated, at least not by a seer.”
“But can’t you just tell them that? Bob’s not Estella. He’s not crazy. I’m sure if you just explained all of that to him, he’d—”
“You think I haven’t tried?” the Black Reach snapped. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to watch one of the best seers ever born throw himself away? Brohomir knows exactly what is coming and why he shouldn’t do it, but he still refuses to change, and I’ve reached the end of my ability to reason with him.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to get through to him,” Julius said. “Bob doesn’t listen to me.”
“But he does talk to you,” the seer said, staring at him intently. “You’re different from other dragons, Julius. I told you flat out when we started that your brother was in trouble, and you didn’t even try to use that to your advantage. You didn’t offer to sell him out to me or trade information for favors. You just wanted to help, to save him.”
“Of course I wanted to save him,” Julius said. “He’s my brother.”
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” the Black Reach said, leaning closer. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for a dragon like you? One who’d legitimately choose his brother’s life over a debt with Dragon Sees Eternity? You are incredibly rare, and I believe that’s why Brohomir picked you. Not just because you won’t betray him, but because I don’t want to kill you. I could end all of Brohomir’s plotting right now, save his life by ending yours and all the plots he’s attached to you, but I won’t. I can’t, because you’re exactly the sort of peaceful, honest dragon I’ve always hoped would emerge one day. Under your leadership, I can foresee Heartstriker evolving to the point where you might finally be able to put a stop to the foolish clan infighting that’s forever pushing seers to seek the ends I must kill them for taking. That’s power, Julius, and I’m sure it’s why Bob chose you. Where better to run your plans than through the one dragon I don’t want to kill? But his cleverness is also his weakness, because by making you the center of all his plans, Bob has handed you—the only one who truly cares—the power to save his life. He’s the seer, but you’re the one holding all his strings. If you let them go, everything he’s built will fall apart, and I won’t have to do a thing.”
A cold knot began to form in Julius’s chest. “You want me to betray Bob.”
“To save his life,” the Black Reach said angrily. “Your brother is one of the best seers I’ve ever known, but his cleverness and audacity have led him farther down the path of self-destruction than any dragon before him. He’s made a bargain with a power so deadly, I can’t even tell you its name without risking the future I was created to guard. If he takes one more step, I cannot stay my hand, but you can make it so I don’t have to act at all. That’s not betrayal, Julius. That’s saving him from himself. If you truly care for Brohomir, then help me. Disrupt his plans, foil his plots. Don’t do whatever it is he’s ordered you to do. Let him fail, and you will save his life.”
He finished with a smile. Not the polite one from earlier, but a true, heartfelt smile that changed his entire face, making him look less like a deadly weapon and more like a desperate old dragon. And that was the hardest part, because Julius was now certain the Black Reach hadn’t come here to manipulate him or set a trap. Whatever other games he might be playing, he believed the seer truly wanted to save Bob, and that was the problem, because Julius didn’t know how.
“If that’s what you need, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he said apologetically. “I absolutely believe you want to save my brother. I want to save him, too, but I can’t go against his plans, because I don’t know what they are.”
“That doesn’t matter,” the Black Reach said dismissively. “You don’t have to know a game to ruin it. Just don’t do whatever it is he’s told you to do, and the whole thing should fall apart on its own.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Julius said. “Other than ordering me not to free Chelsie, which I already ignored, Bob’s never told me to do anything except be myself.”
The Black Reach went still, staring at Julius as though he’d started speaking an unknown language. “That’s it?” he said at last. “‘Be yourself’? You’re sure that’s all he’s said?”
Julius nodded, and the old seer scowled. “That can’t be it.”
“I know,” Julius said, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity. “But I swear that’s all he’s said. Believe me, if I’d known he was planning to kill Amelia, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would have already disrupted his plots into itty-bitty pieces. But I had no idea. You and Chelsie and everyone else go on and on about how I’m Bob’s chosen one, but I must be the self-operating kind, because he doesn’t tell me anything. I don’t even get crazy texts anymore.” And man, he never thought he’d miss those.
The Black Reach looked down at his lap, his long fingers drumming against his legs as he thought that through. The silence lasted so long, Julius started to worry he’d gone into some kind of sleep mode or whatever constructs did when they got overloaded. Before he could decide what to do about that, though, the Black Reach rose to his feet.
“I appreciate you speaking with me,” he said, inclining his head. “It’s been…informative.”
“Of course,” Julius said automatically, hopping up as well. “But before you go, can you tell me anything? You said you knew where Bob was going to be. If you told me, maybe I could find him. Talk to him. He’s a smart dragon. I’m sure I could—”
“No,” the Black Reach said firmly. “Giving you his location does nothing. You’re his pawn. If I move you, he’ll just move you back.” He thought a moment more, and then he shook his head again. “No. At this stage, I think it’s better for you to continue as you’ve been, though if he does ask you for something, keep my advice in mind.”
“I will,” Julius promised, biting his lip. “But it’d be a lot easier if you could give me some kind of hint about what it is he’s trying to do. If you’re after him, it’s got to be something to do with selling the future, but why? What’s he trying to make happen?”
“I can’t tell you,” the Black Reach said, clearly frustrated. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because he hasn’t done it yet. I’ve actually pushed the boundaries of my position a great deal just by coming to speak to you today. If I push further, I risk tipping my own hand, and that’s not a chance I can take. But rest assured, I would not be here if the threat were not great. You know what’s at stake now. If you’re the dragon I believe you to be, you’ll do everything you can to stop Brohomir before he dooms himself, which is all I can ask.”
“But how will I know?” Julius asked. “I don’t even understand what I’m trying to stop.”
“You will,” the Black Reach promised, opening the door. “When it happens, you’ll know, because you’ll be at the heart of it.” He ducked his head to Julius one last time before stepping into the hall. “See you in Detroit.”
“Wait!” Julius cried, running after him. “What happens in…”
The words died on his lips as he burst into the hall. The long, empty hall. Julius couldn’t even smell the Black Reach anymore save for a faint hint of old ash. He searched anyway, walking all the way back to his mother’s vault before he gave up. Whatever had happened, it was obvious the seer was no longer in the mountain. Defeated, Julius went back to his temporary room to try and think all of this through. He’d just settled himself down on the sheet-covered couch where the Black Reach had been sitting when he noticed Marci’s bag was no longer beside it.
***
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, sir,” Fredrick said gently. “But why would the Black Reach steal your human’s bag?”
“Why do seers do anything?” Julius whispered back, fists clenched in fury. “But her bag was in my room when we started, and when I came back, it was gone. No one else could have taken it.”
Fredrick heaved a frustrated sigh, and honestly, Julius couldn’t blame him. They were in the elevator on their way up to the mountain’s peak to try and talk with the Golden Emperor. If there was ever a time Julius needed to focus, it was now, but he couldn’t let this go. That bag was all he had left of Marci. “I have to get it back.”
“Was there anything in her bag that the Black Reach might have wanted?”
Julius had no idea. He didn’t even know what was inside it. He’d been too upset to go through Marci’s things when Chelsie had handed them over last night, and there’d been no chance this morning with the invasion. Other than the blood, though, her shoulder bag hadn’t looked or felt different from all the times he’d grabbed it for her back in the DFZ. The poor thing was still stuffed to the seams, despite all the times Marci had complained about never being able to find anything. He still remembered the exact tone of her voice the last time she’d sworn to get organized, or at least buy a bigger bag, trying in vain to stuff all her casting supplies into the—
He stopped, body shaking. As always, any thoughts about the past, even innocent ones, pushed him right back to the dark place he’d been before Chelsie had dragged him out. No matter how busy he kept himself, whenever he let his thoughts drift, Marci’s loss was still right there, like a knife in his side. In a perverse, selfish way, he was almost glad the emperor had invaded. It gave him an emergency, something bigger to distract his attention away from the yawning emptiness. He needed that right now.
He just wished the Black Reach hadn’t taken his last piece of her.
“I’m sure the bag will come back,” Fredrick said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Assuming he did take it, seers don’t do things without reason. But if you need some time—”
“No,” Julius said firmly, pulling himself together. “Buying time was my idea. So was going to talk to the emperor. If I’m not going to make good on those, we might as well do what Mother wants and sign the surrender now.”
“It doesn’t have to be all one or the other,” the F argued. “Ian won’t be back until early tomorrow. We have time if you need it.”
“I do need time, which is why I can’t waste it.” He closed his eyes and gave himself a shake, forcing the grief back to the corners of his mind to focus on the task ahead of them. “There,” he said when he’d finished. “I’m fine. Everything will be fine. Let’s do this.”
Fredrick didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. He just moved closer to his youngest brother as the elevator rolled to a stop, the golden doors opening to reveal the hallway to the throne room at the top of Heartstriker Mountain.
Or what was left of it.
“What the—”
Fredrick recovered first, grabbing the elevator doors as he leaned over the panel to check the floor number, but there was no mistake. This was the top floor, it was just—
“It’s empty,” Julius said, stepping out into what had been Bethesda’s famous Hall of Heads. Had been, because all the grisly trophies from their mother’s bloody rise to the top were now gone. Even the clean spots from the wooden mounting plaques had been scrubbed away, leaving nothing but empty stone walls from the elevator all the way to the throne room doors.
“How did they do this?” Fredrick whispered, his eyes wide. “Some of those heads were cursed, not to mention thousands of pounds.”
“I suppose anything’s possible with enough manpower,” Julius whispered back, keeping his eyes on the doors at the hall’s end, where a pair of terrifying men in traditional Mongolian dress were standing guard at the throne room doors. Identical men, who didn’t smell like men at all. They smelled like dragons, the same two red ones that had stopped him and his mother in the desert. The ones who were the same size as Conrad.
“Stay close,” he whispered, straightening the collar of the old-fashioned, ill-fitting suit Fredrick had dug out of storage for him.
The F did better than that. He was practically walking on Julius’s heels as they made their way down the now-headless hall, stopping a respectful distance from the silent guards.
“Hello,” Julius said, trying to look as friendly and unintimidating as possible. Not that he could have intimidated dragons like this. “You probably remember me from this morning, but I’m Julius Heartstriker, one of the heads of the Heartstriker Council. I’ve come to request an audience with the Qilin.”
“The Golden Emperor does not wish to see you,” the guard on the left said, in perfect English. “Come back tomorrow at the appointed time of surrender.”
“How do you know he doesn’t wish to see me if you didn’t ask?” Julius countered, smiling politely. “I promise not to take too much of his time. I just have a few questions about the surrender agreement. The sooner I get them answered, the faster we can end this awkward waiting period and come to an agreement.”
Considering Heartstriker’s surrender was a when rather than an if, that shouldn’t have worked, but as Julius had noticed downstairs, the emperor wasn’t treating it like a done deal. No dragon confident in his success would sweeten a deal that much right off the bat, and sure enough, the moment he hinted there was a chance of wrapping things up faster, the Qilin’s dragons jumped on it.
While the left one kept an eye on them, the red dragon on the right pulled out his phone. Whatever message he sent, the answer must have been immediate, because a few seconds later, the twins nodded at each other, and the left dragon opened the throne room door, motioning for Julius and Fredrick to follow him inside. With a deep breath, Julius did, slipping nervously between the double doors into a throne room that, once again, looked nothing like he remembered.
Like the Hall of Heads leading up to it, the Heartstriker throne room had been stripped clean. Everything was gone: the three-sided council table, the Quetzalcoatl’s skull, the art displays from the adjacent hallways, everything. Even the mosaics depicting the Heartstriker in all her feathered glory had been picked out of the walls tile by tile. The only thing that hadn’t been moved was Chelsie’s Fang, which was still lying on the balcony where she’d dropped it yesterday, probably because no one else could pick it up. Other than that one detail, though, Julius felt as though he were standing in a completely different mountain, but the strangest change of all was the throne.
He didn’t know how they’d gotten it in here, but standing in the place where their Council table had been this morning was a massive and incredibly lifelike statue of a twisting golden dragon that served as the base for two thrones. A large one made of white jade positioned inside the dragon’s open mouth, and a smaller, black jade one cradled in the crook of its tail. The whole thing was incredibly beautiful, a true work of art that absolutely did not belong here. He was still staring at it in horrified wonder when the door to what had been Bethesda’s apartments flew open, and the Empress Mother hobbled into the room.
“I understand you wish to discuss your surrender,” she said, cane clacking against the cracked stone of the throne room’s polished floor as she made her way toward the golden dragon. By the time she reached it, the red dragon who’d let them in was already there, ready to lift the old crone off the ground and into the smaller of the two thrones. Once seated, the Empress Mother took her time getting settled, placing her cane into a crook in the golden dragon’s claws that seemed tailor-made for the purpose before folding her hands in her lap. Only then, when she was comfortable and elevated above the Heartstrikers in every way, did she finally turn her red eyes on Julius.
“Speak,” she commanded. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Julius would have pointed out she was the one wasting time, but he couldn’t say a word. He was still trying to make sense of how his world had changed so quickly.
If someone had asked him a week ago about redecorating the throne room, he’d have been all for it. He’d always hated and feared this place, which existed only to be a gaudy showcase for Bethesda’s power. Now, though, standing in the emptiness left by the removed mosaics and the headless hall and the missing skull with a foreign throne sitting at the heart of Heartstriker power, it suddenly didn’t matter that they were all just symbols, and his mother’s symbols at that. They were still part of Heartstriker. Gaudy or not, seeing them erased like this made Julius feel more under attack than the army of dragons flying into their territory had. For the first time in his life, he wanted to lash out for his clan, to make these dragons pay for what they had done to the Heartstrikers. He was still struggling to get the unfamiliar violent urge in check when the Empress Mother rapped her knuckles against the stone of her black throne.
“Are you deaf, child?” she asked sharply. “I am doing you a great honor coming to answer your questions in person. You would be wise not to waste my generosity. Now tell me, what new groveling do you bring from your worm of a mother?”
With every arrogant word, Julius’s anger flared hotter and hotter. “I’m not my mother’s mouthpiece,” he growled. “I’m also not a child. I’m a head of Heartstriker, an elected member of our Council, and you are sitting where our table should be.”
“That thing?” The Empress Mother smiled. “I had it removed, along with everything else. This entire peak was a shrine to the violent, backward, barbaric culture that elevated a creature like Bethesda. Such an environment is no place for the golden Qilin, even temporarily, so I did what needed to be done.” She arched an eyebrow at Julius. “Surely you’re not here to defend your mother’s taste.”
“Taste has nothing to do with it,” Julius said angrily. “You changed our mountain without permission!”
“We do not need your permission,” she said haughtily. “Your conquest is final in all but formality. That you are free to complain about such obvious improvements is a sign of the enormous and frankly undeserved favor the emperor shows to your clan. Did you enjoy walking down a hall of corpses?”
Julius hadn’t. If she’d asked first, Julius would have personally helped them take down the Hall of Heads. But they hadn’t asked. No one had. They’d just done it, and the more he thought about that, the more determined Julius became to never surrender to the Golden Emperor. It didn’t matter how awful Bethesda’s taste had been. Changing another clan’s seat of power without bothering to seek input from the dragons whose traditions you were “improving” wasn’t the action of a ruler Julius could ever call his emperor.
“Enough of this,” the empress said, narrowing her eyes at what Julius realized must have been a murderously defiant expression. “I did not disrupt my rest to listen to a spoiled whelp complain. You said you had questions. Speak them or go.”
“I will,” Julius said, glaring back at her. “But only to the Qilin himself.”
“Insects do not demand to speak to emperors.”
“I’m not an insect,” he said angrily. “I’m a clan head, just like your son. Until he actually conquers Heartstriker, that makes us equals, and equals speak face to face, not through a third party.”
That was enough to make the empress rise from her throne, but Julius wasn’t finished. “You can threaten me all you like,” he snapped. “But I fought for the right to stand at the head of Heartstriker, and I will not be bullied into backing down by a toothless old dragon who thinks she has power because her son is emperor.”
By the time he finished, his heart was pounding like he was in the middle of a fight. But while the anger on the empress’s face was terrifying, Julius would go down fighting before he took a word of it back. Heartstriker might be on the verge of getting crushed, but until it crumbled, this was his clan, the family he’d fought his mother for and won. He refused to surrender that to anyone, but especially not to a dragon as haughty, insulting, and undeserving as this one.
“You certainly are your mother’s son,” the empress said at last, looking down her nose as though she was seriously considering roasting him on the spot. “So much pride, and so little done to deserve it. But it matters not. Demands without the power to back them up are nothing but empty words, and that’s all a worm like you has left.”
Julius was opening his mouth to say she was wrong. That Heartstriker was still the largest dragon clan in the world, and they would never bow to an emperor who demanded their obedience but did nothing to deserve their respect. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance. Before a word could leave his lips, the Empress Mother lifted her chin, looking over Julius and Fredrick’s heads at the pair of red dragons guarding the door behind them.
“The audience is over,” she announced. “Take the young Heartstriker out to the edge of the desert and kill him.”
Julius froze, eyes going wide. “What?”
“Did you not hear me?” the empress asked innocently. “I’ve decided you’re going to die.”
“But you—” He began to sputter. “You can’t do that!”
“Of course I can,” she said. “Because unlike you, I have actual power. I’m an empress, whereas you’re barely one-third of a clan head. An elected third. If you die, you don’t even have an heir to take up your cause. Your family will simply choose another of the Broodmare’s infinite children to replace you, and while I’m sure he’ll be every bit as arrogant and ridiculous, at least he’ll have your death to help correct his behavior.”
Her smile turned into a sharp-toothed leer as the red dragons stalked toward them. Julius swore under his breath and turned to face them, dropping a hand to his Fang. Fredrick had already moved to guard his flank, staring at the approaching red dragons with grim determination. “Sir,” he said quietly. “We can’t—”
“I know,” Julius said, drawing his sword, not that it would do much good. His Fang only froze Heartstrikers, and while it was still a perfectly serviceable blade, Julius had never been much good with those. The Mongolian dragons certainly didn’t look worried. They didn’t even have weapons, and they were still advancing fearlessly, grinning at Julius and Fredrick as if taking the two of them down would be no problem at all. Which, considering their size, it probably wouldn’t be.
“If you kill me, you’ll have to wait even longer for your surrender,” Julius warned. “Weeks, maybe months.”
“A trial to be sure,” the empress replied. “But one I’m willing to endure to be rid of a recalcitrant whelp bent on impeding the best stroke of luck your backward clan’s ever had for the sake of his pride. I’m sure your replacement will not make the same mistake.”
Julius cursed under his breath. So much for that. The red dragons were now less than ten feet away, spreading out to attack Julius and Fredrick from both sides at once. Because he was a real dragon, Fredrick instantly adjusted his position to match the new arrangement, but all Julius could focus on was how he’d just gotten them both killed. He was about to suggest they make a break for the balcony when the door in the wall behind the new throne—the one that led to what had been to Bethesda’s apartments—clicked open.
The Empress Mother went still at the sound. So did the twins. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the empress flicked her fingers, and the twins bolted back to their guard positions by the door, leaving Julius and Fredrick standing back to back in the middle of the room as a dragon wearing blue robes came around the corner of the massive throne.
Locked in fight-or-flight, Julius’s instincts focused instantly on the newcomer. But while he was obviously a member of the emperor’s court, the new dragon looked legitimately baffled by the scene in front of him. By contrast, the Empress Mother had suddenly become the picture of serenity, her bloodthirsty smile evaporating as she turned to acknowledge their visitor.
“What is it, Lao?” she asked placidly. “Does my son require my attention?”
The new dragon, Lao, shook his head. “No, Empress. I was just passing through on my way to find the youngest Heartstriker.”
The Empress Mother blinked in surprise, but Julius had already jumped. “That’s me!” he said loudly, shoving his Fang back into its sheath. “I’m Julius Heartstriker.”
“So I see,” Lao said, looking him over before turning back to the empress. “Were you busy with him, Empress Mother? The Qilin wanted to ask him a question, but I’d be happy to wait if you’re—”
“No!” Julius said. “We actually came up to ask for an audience with the emperor. The Empress Mother was just about to grant it when you arrived.”
The old dragoness’s red eyes narrowed dangerously, but when she didn’t call him on the lie, Julius knew he’d just found the limit of her vaunted power.
“I’d like nothing better than to speak with the Golden Emperor,” he said brightly, turning all of his attention to Lao, whom Julius’s nose had just identified as the blue dragon who’d thrown the robe over the Qilin when he’d landed and handed Julius the surrender scroll. “You work for him, right?”
“I am his cousin and sorcerer,” Lao said, looking nervously at the Empress Mother. But while it was clear he knew he’d interrupted something, his loyalty must have been to the emperor alone, because he didn’t ask her if he should wait again. He just turned and walked back to the door that led to Bethesda’s apartments in the rear half of the mountain’s peak, beckoning for the Heartstrikers to follow.
Julius didn’t wait to be told twice. He bolted for the exit, dragging Fredrick behind him as they fled the throne room under the Empress Mother’s murderous glare.
***
“That was lucky,” Fredrick whispered when they were safely on the other side.
“I think ‘lucky’ is the operative word,” Julius whispered back, looking around at what had been his mother’s front parlor.
Like everything else up here, the Heartstriker’s private rooms had been swept absolutely clean. Unlike the empty Hall of Heads and throne room, though, these had been redecorated with potted plants, vases in a variety of styles from traditional Ming to modern art pieces, and paintings. Absolutely lovely paintings, actually.
Like the vases, the art on the walls came in a wide variety of styles with modern abstract pieces hanging next to traditional watercolor landscapes depicting gorgeously rendered dragons floating over mountains and rice paddies. The wide difference should have been jarring, but the colors, lines, and textures had been deftly arranged so that each painting balanced its neighbors. The result was perfect harmony, an effortless greater beauty that was the polar opposite of Bethesda’s gaudy gold furniture and left no question as to whose rooms these were now.
“This way,” Lao said. “The immaculate Qilin desires to see you immediately.”
Julius followed obediently, doing his best not to trip over his feet as he gawked at the beautiful changes, which continued down the hallway that ran through the middle of his mother’s suite. He was taking a mental inventory of everything that had been replaced when Lao stopped at the doorway to what had been Bethesda’s sitting room, the one where she and David had been waiting for Julius the morning of their first Council meeting. When he tried to walk inside, though, the blue dragon stopped him.
“Your sword.”
Julius blinked at him. “Sword?”
Lao’s jaw tightened in annoyance. “However insignificant the threat may be, we cannot allow armed outsiders to enter the Golden Emperor’s presence. You must hand over your weapon before I can permit you to go inside.”
Julius found it odd that the Living Embodiment of Good Fortune would worry about something as mundane as a sword. But the request wasn’t unreasonable, so he obediently removed his Fang, though he didn’t offer it to Lao. When the blue dragon scowled, he explained, “Fangs of the Heartstriker are particular about who touches them.”
He’d expected to have to say a lot more than that, but to his surprise, Lao nodded. “We’ve already had a run-in with the sword on the balcony,” he said, leaning away from the sheathed blade in Julius’s hands. “You may leave it here, along with your servant.”
“Fredrick’s not my servant,” Julius said quickly. “He’s my brother, and I’d like him to come with me if that’s okay.”
The Chinese dragon’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s your brother?”
Julius couldn’t blame him for being surprised. The tall, stoic, elegantly scowling Fredrick looked nothing like Julius—who was short for a dragon with Bethesda’s trademark sky-high cheekbones and a very undraconic habit of smiling. It also didn’t help that the green of Fredrick’s eyes still looked weirdly off. It hadn’t been so noticeable down in the basement, but up here in the bright afternoon sunshine streaming down from the skylights that kept Bethesda’s apartment hallway from feeling like a bomb shelter, they didn’t even look properly green, much less Heartstriker green. They were more like the color of yellowed grass in the fall, which definitely wasn’t the color they’d been when Julius had met him. He had no idea what could have caused the change, but it wasn’t helping Fredrick look like a Heartstriker. Thankfully, Lao didn’t know enough to realize just how strange that was.
“I suppose anything is possible in your family,” he said with an elegant shrug. “The Broodmare is famous for her lack of standards, so it makes sense that her children would show a great deal of variance.”
He stopped there, smiling, but Julius was too used to comments at his mother’s expense to even be fazed at this point. When it was clear he wasn’t going to get the rise he wanted, Lao moved on.
“You may bring your brother if you wish, but he’ll have to hold his tongue. The emperor is tired from the long journey, and the burden of this invasion weighs heavily upon his mind. One Heartstriker is bad enough after the trouble you’ve caused. I will not allow you to aggravate things further by teaming up on him.”
“Hold up,” Julius said angrily. “You’re upset at us that your emperor is stressed out from taking over our territory?”
“Yes,” Lao said without missing a beat. “If your clan hadn’t been such a failure on all fronts, he wouldn’t have been forced to take such drastic measures.”
“Or he could have stayed home,” Julius said, exasperated. “I’m not trying to start a fight, but if you hate being here so much, you can always just leave.”
“I would like nothing better,” Lao said passionately. “But it is not my place to question the emperor’s will. For ten thousand years, the Qilins have ruled the Chinese clans in peace, harmony, and prosperity. Like his father before him, the Golden Emperor’s great good fortune has sheltered us from the constant war and strife that plagues the rest of the dragon clans. We are all blessed to dwell in his presence. If he wishes to extend that blessing to you, we trust his wisdom, but that doesn’t mean we trust you.”
He stepped closer, leaning down until his face was level with Julius’s. “I don’t know what you said to anger the empress,” he said quietly. “But the Golden Empire’s prosperity depends on the Qilin’s serenity. If you upset him as you did his mother, I will throw you back to her, and I will make sure you are not rescued a second time. Do I make myself clear, Heartstriker?”
As crystal. But while Julius had no problem following Lao’s threat, the larger picture was more confusing than ever. Why was everyone so concerned about upsetting the Qilin? Did something happen when he got mad? And if so, why had he risked that by invading Heartstriker? Especially with those ridiculous surrender terms? The more Julius saw of this invasion, the more convinced he became that no one in the Golden Empire wanted to be here, so why were they? Surely there had to be a better way of fighting Algonquin.
As always, nothing about this made sense. The more he learned about the Qilin, the less he understood. But while Julius didn’t like being threatened by Lao any more than he enjoyed it from his own family, he couldn’t afford to walk away. This meeting was his only chance to talk face to face with the one dragon who knew what was actually going on. Julius was willing to put up with a lot for that, so he meekly lowered his head, dropping his eyes in the ultimate display of draconic submission as he leaned over to set his Fang of the Heartstriker on the floor at Lao’s feet.
“There,” he said, holding up his empty hands in surrender. “Like I’ve said from the start, we don’t want any conflict. We just want to talk.”
Lao still looked suspicious, but Julius was being absolutely sincere. Even Fredrick played along, raising his empty hands as well. Together, it must have been enough, because the blue dragon sighed. “Remember,” he growled as he opened the door. “Treat him with the utmost respect. If you say or do anything that disrupts his calm, you will pay for it.”
Julius nodded, stepping eagerly into the parlor, which, like everywhere else at the top of the mountain, was totally changed.
The last time Julius had been here, the room had been a red-velvet nightmare. Now, all of the overstuffed divans, red shaded lamps, and awkward nude portraits of his mother were gone. The red-and-gold boudoir paper had been peeled off the walls as well, revealing the mountain’s natural rust-colored stone, which someone had scoured to a pale rose. The floor had been scrubbed within an inch of its life as well, removing centuries of soot and dried blood. Even the tiny porthole window had been polished so clean, the glass was practically invisible, allowing the sun to transform the dark chamber into a bright, airy space that felt three times as large as before. Julius couldn’t imagine how much effort it had taken to work such a miracle, but it was still nothing compared to the tall dragon in golden robes sitting in front of the unlit fireplace.
For the second time today, seeing the Golden Emperor hit Julius like a punch. It didn’t seem to matter that he knew what to expect this time. It simply wasn’t possible to ready yourself for something so impossibly perfect.
And perfect he was. Just sitting alone in an empty room with his face hidden by the ever-present golden veil—which was properly pinned to his hair this time rather than just being draped over his head—the Qilin looked more regal than Bethesda had in her full regalia. Admittedly, part of that was because the Qilin’s overlapping robes contained more gold than Bethesda’s dress, headdress, and jewelry combined.
Mostly, though, it was just him. The way the streaming sunlight struck him perfectly, illuminating the motes of dust in the air above him until they sparkled like a halo. The way his robes, which had to weigh hundreds of pounds between all the ornamentations and threads of gold, draped his body like supple silk. The way the smooth skin his folded hands looked like perfectly carved stone brought to life.
From anyone else, Julius would have suspected an illusion, some kind of trick to make the emperor appear to be more than what he was. With the Qilin, though, it just looked right, because that was what he was: more. He was something else, a creature who lived in perfect harmony with everything around him. Just being in his presence made Julius instinctively want to harmonize with him if only so he’d have a place in the tranquil, beautiful scene. He was still standing there gawking in dumb wonder when Lao stepped in front of him with a bow.
“Great emperor,” he said, his voice humble and reverent in a way Julius had never heard from a dragon before. “I have brought the young Heartstriker, as you requested.”
“Thank you, cousin,” the emperor said, turning his veiled face toward Julius as he held out his hand toward one of the elegant mahogany chairs that had been set up in a semicircle in front of him. “Sit.”
It was an offer, not a command, but Julius still flinched. The Qilin’s voice was softer than it had been this morning, but the power behind it was no less entrancing. Literally entrancing, he realized with a jolt. He’d gotten a hint of it back in the desert, but now that they were together in a smaller space, he could actually feel the Qilin’s magic pushing him to comply. To not make a fuss or disrupt the perfection. It wasn’t as hard or sharp as normal dragon magic, but it was definitely there, and the more it leaned on him, the less Julius liked it.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” he said, forcing his feet to stay rooted to the floor.
It was probably his imagination, but Julius would have sworn his refusal made the Qilin uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell for sure through the veil, but his body seemed more rigid when he turned to the dragon behind Julius. “Whom have you brought with you?”
“This is my brother,” Julius said proudly, reaching back to pull Fredrick forward until he and the F were standing side by side. “Fredrick.”
Fredrick dipped his head in a quick bow, but while his face was calm as always, his arm was shaking against Julius’s hand. Julius didn’t know if that was because the F was afraid of the emperor or if he was simply not used to being pulled out of the background, but he immediately felt like a heel for causing it. He was trying to make eye contact with Fredrick to let him know it was okay to step back again when the Qilin leaned forward.
“Fredrick?” he said, emphasizing the F. “As in Bethesda’s hidden clutch?”
When Fredrick nodded, the Qilin seemed enthralled. “I’d heard rumors that the Heartstriker kept an entire clutch of her own children as servants, but I always assumed it was a story started by her enemies. Maybe even by Bethesda herself as a ploy to play up her ruthlessness. I never dreamed it would actually be true.”
“It was true,” Fredrick said, his voice quivering. “But not anymore.” He smiled down at Julius. “My brother freed us when he came to power, and I swore a debt of loyalty to him in return.”
“Which is why you’re here,” the emperor said, nodding as his veiled head turned back to Julius. “Now I am even more eager to speak with the new head of Heartstriker.”
“I’m not really the head,” Julius said quickly, drawing a dirty look from Lao, who was pouring them tea from the elegant porcelain tea set sitting on the stoop of Bethesda’s freshly scoured fireplace. “I’m just one seat on the Heartstriker Council. We have three.”
The emperor shrugged. “So long as you can speak for your clan, and I don’t have to speak to Bethesda, it makes no difference to me. But how did you come to form a Council with your mother? When we heard she’d been overthrown, I expected to find her head on a pike.”
“If things had gone differently, that probably would have been the case,” Julius admitted. “But due to an unlikely series of events, Bethesda’s life ended up in my hands, and I don’t like killing.”
The Qilin tilted his veiled head. “That’s an odd statement to hear from a Heartstriker. Your clan is famous for its ruthlessness.”
“I’ve never been very good at living up to expectations,” he said proudly, accepting the teacup Lao shoved at him. “I actually used to be the lowest Heartstriker, so I knew what it was like to be under someone else’s boot. When I ended up at the top, I couldn’t bring myself to put another dragon in that position.”
“So you spared her life.”
“Not because she deserved it,” Julius said quickly. “I’m not apologizing for or forgiving anything my mother has done. I don’t know what happened between our clans that made you banish us from China, but I’m sure it was warranted. That said, Heartstriker isn’t what it used to be. When I spared my mother and created the Council, I swore to make a better Heartstriker than the one I grew up in. One that’s not based on fear, and where dragons don’t have to kill to get ahead. That’s what I set out to do, and I was almost there when you arrived.”
“Then you should continue,” the Qilin said calmly. “The terms of surrender specifically state that your clan will continue to govern itself. So long as you don’t cause a problem for others, you’re free to do as you like.”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Julius said, staring as hard as he could into the emperor’s veil in the hopes that he might finally catch a glimpse of his face. “I’ve read your surrender terms several times now, and while they are quite generous, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve. Other than bringing us into your empire, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to change anything.”
“We’re not,” he said, his rich voice oddly bitter. “I gave up hope for the Heartstrikers long ago. I admit you seem like an interesting exception to your family’s rule, but I’m not so naïve as to believe one dragon can fundamentally alter a clan as large and bloody as yours. I’m only here to avert a disaster, not break my empire attempting to change what cannot be changed.”
“If that’s how you feel, why bother conquering us at all?” Julius asked. “If you just want to fight Algonquin, we’d happily work with you as allies. There’s no need to take over—”
“I hope this is not what you came to discuss,” the emperor interrupted. “I granted you a temporary reprieve out of respect for your customs, but there will be no negotiation. As you said yourself, my terms are quite generous. You can have no legitimate complaints.”
“I don’t,” Julius said. “But—”
“No,” the Qilin said. “There is no ‘but.’ You asked for time to convene your Council. I gave it. But whether your third member arrives to vote or not, the Heartstriker clan will join my empire tomorrow morning as planned.”
That was clearly meant to be the end of the discussion, but Julius couldn’t leave it. “Can you at least tell me why?” he blurted out, pointedly ignoring Lao, who’d given up even the pretense of serving tea in favor of watching him like a hawk. “When dragon clans conquer each other, it’s normally to claim territory or gain dominion over weaker dragons, but you’re clearly not the least bit interested in any of that. You’re conquering in name only, putting us in your empire, but not actually changing anything. You’re not even taking tribute, and I just want to understand why. Why bother with all of this if you’re not getting anything from it?”
“Is stopping Algonquin not reason enough?” Lao growled.
“It’s a great reason,” Julius said. “I just don’t see what it has to do with us. Heartstriker’s not capable of fighting Algonquin right now. The reason you caught us with an empty mountain is because we were getting ready to run. If you’d wanted to come into our territory and fight Algonquin, we absolutely would not have stopped you. Quite the opposite. We gladly would have helped you and been forever in your debt. You have to know that, so I don’t think my confusion is out of place. If you were demanding something for our protection—tribute, territory, soldiers—that would make sense, but you’re not demanding anything. We actually come out ahead in this deal, while the only thing you get is another liability to defend.”
“Then why are you complaining?” Lao snapped.
“Because it’s too good,” Julius snapped back. “You dropped out of the sky in our hour of need and offered to protect us from Algonquin in return for what is basically symbolic surrender. We don’t give up our right to rule or control of our territory. You’re not even asking for money.” He turned back to the Qilin. “I might be a terrible dragon, but even I know things that seem too good to be true usually are. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if our positions were reversed?”
By the time he finished, Lao didn’t look like he was going to make good on his threat to throw them back to the Empress Mother. He was already breathing smoke in preparation for cooking Julius on the spot himself. The only reason he didn’t was because his imperial cousin put a hand on his sleeve.
“And this is your only objection?” the Golden Emperor said quietly. “That the agreement I’ve given you is ‘too good to be true?’”
“That and the part where we don’t like the idea of being conquered,” Julius said, nodding. “I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but my mother’s already planning to stab you in the back.”
Lao stepped forward with a hiss. “Is that a threat?”
“I’d call it more of an eventuality,” Julius said with a shrug. “You know how proud dragons are. It doesn’t matter how generously you dress it up, no one welcomes being conquered. If you force us to bow, we will always be your enemies, but if you come to us as an ally, everything changes.” He smiled at the emperor. “Like I said, we don’t want to fight you. If your goal is to stop Algonquin, we are absolutely on your side. If you work with us instead of against us, you can still do everything you want, but at the end you’ll have a grateful ally rather than a resentful vassal. That’s a way better outcome for all involved, and I don’t understand why you’re not doing it. That’s what makes me suspicious. You’re choosing what is obviously the worst path for everyone, including you, and I can’t understand why.”
He was sweating bullets by the time he finished. On the other side of the small room, Lao was holding back by a thread, blue smoke curling dangerously from his lips, and oddly enough, that made Julius feel better. He’d wondered whether the emperor’s dragons protected him out of love or fear. For Lao at least, the fuming smoke was his answer. Even the prickliest dragon didn’t get that worked up without something serious on the line. The blue dragon’s respect for the Golden Emperor was clearly more than just deference to his power. Lao really cared, and that gave Julius hope. Hope that grew infinitely larger when the Qilin spoke again.
“Lao,” he said quietly. “I wish to speak with Julius Heartstriker alone.”
The blue dragon whirled around, but though he looked horrified, he didn’t argue with the order. He just clenched his jaw and reached for Fredrick, who yanked his arm out of the way with a growl of his own.
“It’s okay, Fredrick,” Julius said, glancing at the emperor before leaning in to whisper, “This could be the break we’ve been looking for. If he wants to talk alone, then he’s going to say something he doesn’t want his subjects to hear.”
“Or he could kill you,” the F growled back.
“He can do that at any time,” Julius said, giving his brother a little shove. “Go with Lao. I’ll yell if I get in trouble.”
The F didn’t look happy, but he nodded, allowing himself to be marched out of the room under Lao’s watchful glare, leaving Julius and the Golden Emperor alone.
“Thank you for your honesty earlier,” the emperor said when their footsteps had faded. “I hadn’t considered how my offer would appear from your perspective. I never meant to make you doubt my sincerity.”
Julius stared at him in shock. Dragons never said thank you to him, or admitted they were wrong. “Does this mean you’re going to take me up on the alliance idea?” he asked excitedly.
“No,” the emperor said, shaking his head. “I must bring Heartstriker into my empire at all costs.”
Julius’s soaring spirits dropped like a stone. “But—”
“But you have convinced me to show you why,” the emperor continued, rising gracefully from his chair. “Come with me.”
He swept out the door, leaving Julius to scramble after him. It was a chase, too. For someone who always moved as though he were walking at the head of a procession, the Golden Emperor was surprisingly fast. Julius had to jog to keep pace as the emperor strode down the hallway toward the rear of the mountain, away from the entry room where Lao and Fredrick were tensely waiting. Given the direction, Julius assumed they were headed for the treasury, but the Qilin stopped several feet short of the giant vault door that had once protected Bethesda’s hoard, turning instead to the door of the only room in Bethesda’s apartments Julius hadn’t been inside yet. The egg-laying chamber.
Well, Julius supposed he must have been here at least once. He was Bethesda’s son, after all, and even she kept her hatchlings close for at least the first week. That said, he had zero memory of the laying chamber, and he couldn’t help feeling a jolt of apprehension as the Qilin opened the double doors to reveal a large, cave-like room with an enormous circular glass skylight set in the middle of the ceiling.
Since it was afternoon in the desert, this meant the entire cavern was lit up with streaming sunlight, turning the normally reddish rock of Heartstriker Mountain a beautiful rosy gold. It was so unexpectedly lovely, but Julius didn’t even notice the paintings until he walked straight into one.
He might have no memory of Bethesda’s laying room, but Julius was positive those hadn’t been here before. The sunlit cave was absolutely packed with paintings. Some had been rolled into scrolls and stacked in the corners. Others were stretched out on wooden frames that had been propped up against the walls wherever there was room. Like the ones he’d seen in the entryway, the paintings were a mix of styles and mediums, though most were watercolors. Chinese landscapes featuring dragons in particular were featured in abundance, though there were also plenty of life studies, animal portraits, and dreamy, impressionistic abstracts.
All of them were breathtakingly beautiful, the work of an obvious master, but unlike the paintings hanging on the walls outside, these were unfinished. Some, particularly the rolled-up ones in the corners, didn’t look as if they’d been worked on in centuries. Others showed signs of more recent attention, but only one—a large canvas as tall as Julius himself perched on an easel at the room’s center—looked to be an active work in progress. Some of the paint was actually still wet, as though the artist had just stepped away for a moment.
Like most of the paintings in the room, it was a watercolor, but it wasn’t a landscape. This was a portrait, a life-size depiction of a beautiful girl with long black hair. A beautiful dragon, Julius realized a second later, because though there were no obvious tells, nothing about the girl in the painting felt mortal. Maybe it was the tension in her tanned limbs beneath her simple block-printed dress, or the way her feet curled like claws into the vibrant grass. Whatever it was, she was heartbreakingly lovely. Powerful in a wild, explosive way that contrasted beautifully with the stiffly formal Chinese garden behind her.
But while she clearly didn’t belong there, the dragoness appeared fascinated by her surroundings, crouching attentively beside what was clearly meant to be an ornamental fish pond once the artist finished coloring it in. The fish were already there, a beautifully rendered tangle of orange, white, and black koi. Each one was painted in painstaking detail, their little mouths nibbling at the fingertips the dragoness trailed curiously through the water above them. Magnificent as the fish were, though, what really impressed Julius was the way the artist had captured the girl’s delighted smile. It was small, just a curve of her lips, but the joy of it lit up her entire face like sunshine.
That was the detail that transformed the painting from well-done portrait into breathtaking art. It was such a delight to see, Julius didn’t actually recognize whose face he was looking at until he’d stared long enough to notice her eyes were green. Not just any green, either, but the same unmistakable color as his. Greener than the verdant grass under her bare feet. Heartstriker green.
Julius stumbled backward, putting several feet between himself and the picture. When he turned to ask the emperor the obvious question, though, he got another shock. While he’d been transfixed by the painting, the Qilin had removed his golden veil.
Not surprisingly, he was unsettlingly good looking. Not merely handsome like most dragons, but flawless on an entirely different level. Even the tiny quirks that gave his face character—his dark, too-straight eyebrows, the sharp line of his nose, his thin mouth—were perfect in their imperfections, an artist’s ideal of an elegant Chinese prince. After everything else Julius had seen of the Qilin, that was all par for the course, but the detail he wasn’t prepared for were the emperor’s eyes.
Not that he’d been taking notes during the chaos of the invasion, but if anyone had asked Julius before this moment what color the emperor’s eyes were, he would have guessed the same reptilian red as the Empress Mother’s, but that wasn’t the case at all. The Qilin’s eyes were not red like his mother’s or even blue like Lao’s. They were golden. Not yellow like a wolf’s or an owl’s, but true gold. The soft, warm, glistening metallic color every dragon instinctively coveted.
Eyes like golden coins.
Chelsie’s bitter words were still echoing in his memory when the Qilin sighed and turned back to the painting. Then, in a small, sad voice, he whispered, “How is she?”