No Good Dragon Goes Unpunished, Page 3

  “Last night wasn’t big enough?” Julius asked, struggling to keep up with his much taller brother’s strides.

  “Overthrowing Bethesda and changing the entire Heartstriker clan structure was just set-up,” the seer said flippantly. “Once I’ve got my dragons in a row, it’ll be time for the real show.”

  Julius nodded. “Which is?”

  “Nice try,” Bob said, wagging his finger. “But you’re in the big leagues now, kiddo. That means no more freebies.”

  “Come on.” Julius groaned as they crossed the marble lobby toward the golden elevator that would take them all the way up to Bethesda’s throne room at the mountain’s peak. “It’s easy for you to be relaxed. You already know how everything’s going to turn out! But all this uncertainty is hell on the rest of us. After everything we’ve been through, can’t you trust me enough to give me a hint?”

  “Trust is irrelevant when you can see the future,” Bob said, turning on his heel to stare down at his littlest brother. “But if it makes you feel better, it’s because I trust you that I can’t tell you what’s coming.” He smiled wide. “You are the best, most sophisticated tool I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. You are the crowbar I’ve picked to pry apart the universe, Julius Heartstriker. If you think I’m going to jeopardize that so you can feel less anxious, you’re crazier than I am.”

  “But you’re not crazy,” Julius said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared right back up at the seer. “Are you?”

  Bob’s confident smile didn’t budge, but something in his face sharpened. It wasn’t even a movement, more like a shift of perspective that threw his usual carefree smile into a new, unsettling light.

  “There’s a certain madness inherent in all seers,” he said quietly. “It’s impossible to see as much as we see, to know what we know, and not have it change your perspective. Eventually, you stop seeing the individuals at all. It’s all just percentages and likelihoods, moves on the board, and when you’re always playing twenty moves ahead, you can’t help but look insane to everyone who’s still trapped in the present.”

  He sighed and reached up to adjust his pigeon’s hat. “It’s a lonely life, sometimes, but a very exciting one full of possibility. And speaking of possibility.” He dug into his jacket pockets, pulling out several crumpled sticky notes, a mismatched set of silverware, and one of those lace-wrapped packets of birdseed people threw at weddings before finally producing a densely folded piece of parchment. “You’re going to need this.”

  “What is it?” Julius asked, taking the paper, which had been folded over so many times it was practically a solid cube.

  “The new clan charter I had everyone sign last night. The magically binding document that lays out the redistribution of Bethesda’s powers to the Council and thus determines the future of our entire clan.”

  Julius nearly dropped it. “And you’ve been carrying it around balled up in your pocket?”

  “Next to my heart,” Bob said sweetly, laying a gentle hand on his chest. “That’s my only copy, so be careful. I’m only entrusting it to you because you’re going to need it. This morning marks the first official meeting of the Heartstriker Council, and you can bet your newly unsealed tail feathers that Mother’s going to try every trick in the book to undermine the process. Your only hope of stopping her is to know exactly what the new rules are and force her to follow them. Otherwise, we might as well just give up now and hand her the clan back.”

  That was a defeat Julius didn’t even want to think about. “I’ll try my best,” he promised, carefully tucking the folded square of paper into his own pocket. “But why are you saying all of this to me? Aren’t you going to be there, too?”

  “Why would I go?” Bob said with a shrug. “I’m not on the Council.”

  Julius recoiled in horror. “You can’t make me do this alone!”

  “But you must be alone,” the seer said firmly. “You were the one who wanted it this way, Julius. You refused to kill Mother and take power properly. You were the one who wanted a Council and the one who put himself into one of the three seats—”

  “Only because no one else would do it!”

  “—and now you have to follow through,” Bob said over him. “You got everything you wanted. Bethesda was overthrown with zero Heartstriker deaths, and the whole clan has been turned down a new, hopefully less abusive path. But just because you swept the board doesn’t mean you’ve gotten out of the responsibility of actually making it all work.” He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper. “It’s time to put your money where your mouth is, Julius. No good dragon goes unpunished.”

  He said that as though he were handing down a death sentence, but before Julius could think of a proper way to respond, the golden elevator they’d been waiting on finally arrived.

  “No time for regret now,” Bob said, his face going back to its usual goofy smile as he pushed the elevator’s slowly rolling door all the way open and shoved his little brother inside. “But it won’t be so bad. You’ve already got two seats of the three-seat Council locked down. Once you fill the final vacancy, the Council will be complete, and the three of you will be the Heartstriker, magically and legally. That’s power, Julius! I know you’re a miserable excuse for a dragon, but even you should be able to enjoy that. Especially since Mother’s the one who’s sealed this time. Also, you’ve got your lovely sword now.” He nodded at the sheathed Fang strapped to Julius’s hip. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

  That was easy for Bob to say. He’d had his Fang since who knew when. Julius didn’t even fully understand how his worked yet, not that any weapon could make him feel better about confronting the mother he’d lived his entire life in mortal terror of on the morning after he’d gotten her dethroned. But it was way too late to back out now. Bob had already mashed the button for the throne room, blocking the other dragons who tried to get on with his body as he waved Julius good-bye.

  “Good luck!” he called as the doors closed. “And remember my sage advice!”

  “What advice?” Julius said, grabbing the elevator door only to snatch his hand back again when he remembered that his mother didn’t bother with safety features that kept closing elevators from taking off fingers. “You didn’t tell me anything!”

  The seer smirked at him through the last crack of the closing doors. “Be yourself.”

  Julius was getting mighty sick of that line, but it was too late to ask his brother for more. The mirrored golden doors had already shut, and the elevator had started to roll, whisking Julius up through the mountain at terrifying speed toward the peak, where Bethesda waited in her lair.

  Or what was left of it, anyway.

  With all the craziness that had happened last night, Julius hadn’t had much time to think about what the aftermath of the battle in the throne room would mean for the actual, physical throne room. In the sober light of morning, though, the damage was staggering. The grand stone hallway lined with the heads of Bethesda’s enemies where the elevator let out wasn’t too bad, but the great gold-painted wooden doors at the end had been turned into splinters from the blast Bob had created when he’d broken Amelia’s ward, and it only got worse from there.

  In the huge cavern of the Heartstriker’s throne room itself, massive structural cracks ran down the walls and into the floor. The enormous golden mosaic depicting Bethesda in all her feathered glory had been obliterated entirely when Conrad had thrown Justin into it, and the balcony was blackened on all sides where Estella’s white fire had touched it. In the center of the room, his grandfather’s giant skull, which had been proudly suspended from the gilded ceiling, was now lying haphazardly on its side, and his mother’s ornately carved throne was a pile of gilded rubble.

  Since he’d been here when it happened, none of the damage was actually surprising, but seeing the trappings of his family’s power lying broken on the ground hit Julius harder than he’d expected. He was still staring at it when the door that led to his mother’s privat
e apartments—the one that had been hidden behind the giant throne, but was now just a door in the wall—opened to reveal a cross and surprisingly dusty-looking Frieda.

  Julius flinched. He supposed being greeted by his mother’s secretary was better than being jumped by Bethesda herself, but not by much. Like most Heartstrikers, he’d always been leery of Fs. Unlike the rest of her children, whom she’d expected to leave the mountain and make a name for themselves as soon as was physically possible, Bethesda had always kept her sixth clutch close. They were the ones trusted with the unglamorous but vital jobs that kept the Heartstriker clan running. The Fs were her accountants, security staff, and managers for the army of human servants that kept Bethesda’s mountain fortress from falling apart. They even raised her children. Julius’s own clutch had been brought up by a pair of F sisters—Francis and Fiona—with Bethesda visiting only when she felt the need to inspire the proper levels of fear.

  There were all sorts of rumors about why F-clutch had been singled out for this special treatment. The most popular one was that F-clutch’s father had jilted Bethesda, and she’d punished his children with menial labor as a result. Another theory was that since F-clutch had been born so soon after E—less than a year, in fact, a speed that was unheard of among dragons, even one as famously fertile as Bethesda—they’d all come out magically stunted, forcing Bethesda to keep them close lest they become a liability.

  Knowing his mother, both of these explanations seemed likely to Julius. But however the Fs had come to be servants in their own mountain, none of them had ever seemed particularly happy about it. This went double for Frieda, who, as the eldest female F, had the honor/curse of being Bethesda’s personal aide, a job that would break anyone.

  She seemed to be feeling the full brunt of it this morning, too. In addition to the dust that covered her usually impeccable suit dress, her normally sleek black hair was escaping from its tight bun in long, frazzled wisps. Even standing up straight with the doorframe for support, her whole body looked wilted, her green eyes ringed with dark circles as she sourly looked Julius over.

  “You’re late.”

  Julius was not late. Thanks to Bob, he was actually precisely on time for the eight a.m. meeting. Now didn’t seem like a good time to argue, though, so he let it slide, flashing his sister his most polite smile. “May I come in?”

  Frieda stepped to the side, holding the door wide to accommodate Julius’s sword as he stepped into his mother’s receiving room, which looked very different than it had when Bob had sent him in here to change clothes last night. Then, it had been an impressive showcase of gaudy golden furniture, endangered animal skins, tables too ornate to actually hold things, and other trophies of Bethesda’s expensive and questionable taste. Now, it was an even bigger mess than the throne room.

  Every piece of furniture—the silk couches, the gilt mirrors, even the wrought-iron fireplace grate—had been smashed beyond recognition. The damask-papered walls were shredded, and the Persian rug had been burned almost beyond recognition. The corner nearest him was actually still smoking, and Julius quickly scooted away, joining Frieda on the only remaining clear stretch of floor.

  “What happened?”

  Frieda looked at him as if he were stupid. “Mother.”

  Julius winced. Before last night, he never would have believed Bethesda would do something like this to her property. Other people’s stuff, sure, but never her own. Apparently, she was taking her reduced power even worse than he’d anticipated.

  “It’s been this way all night,” Frieda continued, kneeling down to resume sweeping up the shattered remains of what had been a crystal brandy decanter with matching tumblers. “She’s very upset.”

  Her dirty look made it clear she blamed Julius for that, but while his heart went out to his sister, he refused to apologize for Bethesda’s temper tantrum. “Where is she?”

  “In the lounge,” she said, tossing the broken glass into the bucket beside her. “Down the hall, first door on the left. Try not to make her any angrier. We’re running out of furniture.”

  There was no way he could promise that, so Julius just thanked his sister and walked through the door she’d indicated, carefully stepping over the rest of the broken glass as he made his way deeper into the Heartstriker’s lair.

  He didn’t have to go far. Despite being the private quarters of the (former) head of the largest dragon clan in the world, Bethesda’s apartments were still situated at the peak of a thorn-like mountain. That didn’t leave much space for extra rooms once you accounted for her egg-laying chamber and private gold vault. Julius had actually been hoping he’d get to see that last one. He was still a dragon, after all, and the piles of gold Bethesda famously liked to lounge on were the stuff of legend. Unfortunately for his curiosity, his mother was exactly where Frieda had said she’d be: sprawled on a leather fainting couch in a smoky, red-velvet-covered room that, though ripped in places, was still mostly intact.

  This was an improvement over the hurricane-level destruction of the entry room. After looking around, though, Julius couldn’t help but wish she’d wrecked this room as well. Maybe if she’d beaten the velvet couches and copious nude paintings a bit more, he’d have been able to ignore the fact that he was basically standing in what could only be described as his mother’s boudoir. It didn’t help that the silk dressing gown she was wearing fit the scene perfectly, falling off her shoulders in a way that didn’t quite leave her naked, but still revealed way more of his mother than Julius would ever be comfortable seeing. Which, knowing Bethesda, was precisely why she’d worn it.

  “Well, well, well,” she growled, her green eyes glowing in the low light. “My illustrious co-ruler arrives at last.”

  Julius sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped his mother’s natural lust for power would encourage her to at least try working within the new system, if only to figure out how to game it. Clearly, even that was too optimistic. Bethesda didn’t look ready to do anything except eat him alive. She was also, he realized suddenly, not alone.

  “You know David, of course,” she said, waving her hand at the dragon sitting in the enormous armchair in the corner. “Senator of New Mexico.”

  “Of course,” Julius said. Other than Bethesda, David—a five-term senator and the first dragon ever to be elected to public office in the United States—was the most famous Heartstriker, at least among mortals. He played the part perfectly, too. Where most dragons did everything they could to emphasize their position at the top of the food chain, David did the opposite. His smile was trustworthy rather than predatory, and his dark hair had been dyed strategically gray at the temples to make him look less eternally young. Like all dragons, he was still ridiculously handsome, but in an approachable way, the kind of man you’d trust to look after your house, or your country. But unlike the rest of the voting population, Julius was also a dragon. Good as the ruse was, he could spot the hunter’s gleam in David’s bright-green eyes as he stood up to offer Julius his hand.

  “I’m happy to meet you at last,” he said warmly, giving Julius a crushing handshake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “I’m sure you have,” Julius said, glancing at his mother, who bared her teeth. “But, um, this is supposed to be a Council meeting, so—”

  “Why do you think he’s here?” Bethesda snapped, giving Julius the look she saved for her especially stupid children. “He’s going to be our third seat.”

  Julius jerked in surprise. “What?”

  “I was honored to be asked,” David said, his deep voice smooth as silk. “And delighted to accept. I’m happy to do whatever I can to aid our clan in these troubled times.”

  “Spoken like a true politician,” Bethesda said proudly. “But you can drop the act, dear. It’s only Julius.”

  David flashed their mother a smile that almost, but didn’t quite, reach his eyes. Julius, however, was putting a stop to this right now.

  “I’m happy you’re not fig
hting the Council anymore,” he said to his mother, pulling out the folded-up charter Bob had just given him. “But you can’t just make David part of the Council. It clearly says right here that the third seat must to be elected by a majority vote of the—”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Bethesda scoffed. “I’m still sealed, and I don’t get unsealed until this stupid Council is complete. David is more than qualified. He’s also the highest-ranking Heartstriker without a Fang other than Amelia, and his popularity with the upper alphabet clutches gives him loads of internal support.” She flashed her son a proud smile. “He was actually my second suspect for potential coups after Amelia, but you and Bob beat him to the punch.”

  David chuckled. “You should thank them for that, Mother. I was planning to kill you in your sleep.”

  “I almost wish you had,” Bethesda said. “At least you would have managed a proper draconic overthrow instead of this mess.”

  They both had a good laugh over that, and Julius, who already felt sick to his stomach, decided to just move on. “It doesn’t matter how good he is or how much support he’s got,” he said firmly. “There still has to be a vote.”

  “And there will be,” Bethesda said. “Or haven’t you noticed the Heartstriker migration?” She gestured at the boudoir’s tiny window, where the shadows of dragon wings flickered almost constantly in the morning light. “I called everyone in last night. By noon, the whole clan should be assembled. Once I’ve got everyone together, I’ll explain what happened, tell everyone how to vote, and this Council nonsense will be resolved.” She grinned. “I’ll have my wings back by sunset. Assuming the bag of hot air I call daughter can actually undo the seal she put on me.”

  That was a far more sensible plan than Julius had expected from his mother, but there was still one problem. “You can’t just tell everyone about the open Council seat and then have the vote immediately,” he said. “What if someone wants to run against David?”