by Rachel Aaron
The blue dragon who’d assisted the emperor with his robe in particular looked ready to explode. “Your tongue is not worthy to address the Empress Mother by her given name, Broodmare!” he yelled, snapping his teeth through a shimmer of blue magical fire.
Bethesda snapped right back at him, and Julius decided he’d better step in before something important got snapped off.
“You must be the Empress Mother,” he said, placing himself between his mother and the others. “I’m Julius Heartstriker, youngest son of Bethesda and one of the three members of the new Heartstriker Council. On behalf of my clan, we welcome the Golden Emperor to Heartstriker Mountain.”
The Empress Mother didn’t seem to buy the welcome part for a second, but her wispy eyebrows rose at the word council. “So the rumors are true,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the veiled emperor, who had yet to say a word. “The Broodmare has finally been overthrown by her children.”
“Actually, we’re a representative body,” Julius said, moving closer to his mother, who was being dangerously quiet. “Of which Bethesda the Heartstriker is an important part.”
“Is she?” The Empress Mother chuckled. “I’m not surprised to hear you discovered a way to cling to power, Broodmare. You always were desperate and shameless, though I didn’t think you’d sink so low as to elevate your youngest son. Tell me, did the older ones have too much pride to serve beside their belly-crawling mother, or has the Heartstriker clan become so weak that this whelp is the best you can muster?”
If she hadn’t been sealed, Bethesda probably would have been breathing fire by the time the old dragon finished. She certainly looked ready to burn something, but all Julius could do was sigh. Even if his mother hadn’t started it for a change, if he waited for the two dragonesses to stop insulting each other, they’d be here all day.
Whatever bad blood lay between the emperor’s mother and his own, it was obviously too much to cross in one morning. But unlike most dragon clans, which were ruled by their matriarchs, Julius had only ever heard of the Golden Emperor. He didn’t know why the empress was doing all the talking, but unless he was greatly mistaken, she wasn’t actually the one with the power here. That belonged to her silent son, and since things were already going just about as badly as possible, Julius decided to take a risk, pulling himself to his full height so he could look right over the hunchbacked crone’s head and address the only dragon who actually mattered.
“Why are you here?”
The Golden Emperor’s veiled head turned slightly, and a shiver ran through Julius’s body. With the bright sunlight beating down, he couldn’t see a thing through the golden silk, but that didn’t matter. He could feel the Qilin’s eyes on his skin. He was still trying to decide if it was a good feeling or a bad one when the Empress Mother lurched forward.
“Insolent whelp,” she snarled, her red eyes blazing with what would have been terrifying fury if she hadn’t been so frail. “You presume to speak to the august Qilin?!”
“Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Julius said impatiently. “He’s your clan head, isn’t he? And my mother and I are both heads of Heartstriker, so that makes us equals.”
“You are not equal to the dirt he walks on,” she spat, pulling herself as straight as her bent back allowed. “My son is the Golden Emperor, Head of All Clans and Living Embodiment of Good Fortune. You are not worthy to look upon his face, much less pollute his ears with the noise of your presumption.”
She finished with an imperial version of the disdainful glare dragons had been giving Julius all his life. The one that told him he was not only beneath their notice, but actively insulting them by daring to draw it. But while that used to be enough to send him apologizing all the way back to his room, Julius was not the dragon he’d been two months ago.
“I didn’t enter his presence,” he growled, stabbing his finger at the veiled emperor. “He entered ours. I don’t even understand why you’re bothering to insult us. You have to know by now that our mountain is empty. My clan has already evacuated, and you can see for yourself that Bethesda is sealed. You and your dragon army could kill us any time you choose. Since you haven’t yet, I can only assume there’s some other reason you’re here, and it would be a much better use of everyone’s time if you stopped insulting us and just told us what that was.”
His heart was pounding by the time he finished. Bethesda looked shocked as well, staring at him with an expression he’d never seen on her face before. At least, not when she was looking at him.
“Why, Julius,” she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. That was actually draconic.”
It was a sign of just how badly she’d twisted him up inside that a deep part of Julius still leaped to hear his mother finally, finally say she was proud. He was desperately trying to remind himself that being the kind of dragon Bethesda praised was not a good thing when the Empress Mother’s lip curled in disgust.
“I see the Broodmare’s unmerited arrogance breeds true,” she said, turning to hobble back to her son’s side. “But while you are clearly undeserving of such condescension, you are correct. The Golden Emperor in his great benevolence does not desire your deaths today.”
Though he’d just said as much himself, Julius let out a silent breath of relief. “Then what do you want?”
The Empress Mother scowled and glanced at the Golden Emperor. When his veiled head nodded, her wrinkled face grew sourer still. But while she clearly didn’t like whatever she was about to say, she spoke it clearly, her raspy voice loud and heavy with the ritualistic self-importance of someone who’d spent her whole life making imperial announcements.
“Bethesda the Heartstriker, self-styled Dragon Queen of the Americas, your incompetence has long been legendary. For centuries, we have ignored your arrogant folly since the petty dramas of barbarian lands are beneath the notice of those who live in the perfect harmony of the emperor’s wisdom. However, in light of recent events, we find we can no longer afford such luxuries.”
She paused there, and Julius exchanged a confused look with his mother. “I’m afraid I don’t—”
“A week ago,” the empress went on, as if she’d just been waiting for the chance to interrupt, “the spirit Algonquin, Lady of the Lakes, declared war on all our kind. The subsequent purge of Detroit killed countless dragons, including four of our own treasured subjects. Normally, policing this threat would fall to you since the Lady of the Lakes resides in your territory, but your failure to control her rise over the past sixty years has been so complete, so extraordinarily inept, you have left the Golden Emperor no choice but to take your burden upon himself. Therefore, from this moment forward, the Heartstriker dragon clan and all its requisite powers, treaties, and territories shall be brought into the exalted presence of the divine Qilin.” She lifted her chin. “We will now accept your surrender.”
The Golden Emperor nodded serenely as she finished, and the dragon in blue hurried forward to hand Julius a bound scroll he could only assume was the surrender treaty. He took it out of habit, but he didn’t break the seal or try to read it, mostly because he was still trying to wrap his head around what he’d just heard.
“Let me just make sure I’ve got this straight,” he said slowly. “You’re here because of Algonquin?”
“Don’t be fooled,” Bethesda growled. “That’s just their excuse. They’re conquering us because they can. They put on imperial airs, but the Qilin and his followers are no different from the rest of us. They still want all they can get.”
“Do not presume to compare the august Qilin with your own base desires, Broodmare,” the empress growled. “His mercy is the only reason you are still alive.”
“Such magnanimity. Kept alive to bow.” Bethesda’s lips curled in a sneer. “I think I’d rather be eaten.”
“That can be arranged,” the Empress Mother said coldly. “Remember, Heartstriker, this is your fault. Because of your negligence, Algonquin has progressed from a mi
nor annoyance to a threat so large, even the Great Qilin can’t ignore it any longer. But though it would be far simpler to stand back and let the Lady of the Lakes drown you and all your horrid children, the Golden Emperor in his mercy has decided to spare your lives. Your youngest idiot there already holds the key to your salvation. Sign it, and we shall have no more quarrel.”
Bethesda cast a disgusted look at the surrender scroll in Julius’s hands. “And if I don’t?”
The old dragoness smiled. “Then we will kill you and your son and as many other Heartstrikers as it takes until we find one who is capable of reason.”
“You can’t just kill us until someone agrees,” Julius said angrily. “That’s not even how our clan works. We’re not an inheritance system anymore. We—”
“You say that as though you expect me to care,” the empress said over him. “But since you are a young and obviously simple dragon, allow me to explain: we don’t. Your clan and its politics have never been more than worms in our eyes, utterly beneath our concern. The only reason the Golden Emperor has lowered himself to even enter the barren waste you call home is because the weakness, ineptitude, and failure that is Heartstriker has finally become so enormous, so all-encompassing, that it can no longer be ignored. So, you see, it doesn’t matter to us what insane system you’ve convinced your mother to go along with. You lost your right to make decisions when you became too weak to enforce them. The only choice remaining to you, little Heartstriker, is whether you and your whore of a mother bow to your new emperor as the last heads of your clan, or as heads on the ground.”
From the smile on her face, it was clear which choice the empress preferred, and Bethesda looked angry enough to oblige her. If she hadn’t been sealed, she would probably have already attacked, and for once, Julius didn’t think he would have stopped her. It was infuriating to feel so helpless, so cornered by these smug dragons with their unbeatable power, and the fact that the oh-so-merciful Golden Emperor hadn’t deigned to speak to them himself yet only made it worse. Say what you wanted about Bethesda, at least she delivered her own threats. But to demand all of this through your mother while you just stood there safe behind a veil? That was arrogant even by dragon standards, and though he knew he shouldn’t make any decisions until he’d at least read the surrender agreement, Julius was already positive there was nothing he’d accept from these dragons. Even if the emperor offered to let them all live, Julius would never trust the clan he’d bled for to a dragon who held them all in such obvious contempt.
Unfortunately, telling the Golden Emperor to take a hike was not an option. He might hate it a lot more now that he’d met the enemy, but everything he’d said to Justin downstairs was still true. They couldn’t fight the Qilin’s luck. They couldn’t take his dragons. They couldn’t do anything. They were weak, sitting ducks, just as Bethesda had said. But though the Heartstrikers were outmatched in every possible way, the Empress Mother was wrong about one thing. There was still one option left to them aside from join or die.
Stall.
“I’m afraid we have a problem, then,” Julius said apologetically.
The Empress Mother glared daggers at him. “What?”
“You just gave us an ultimatum,” he explained. “But I keep trying to tell you, Heartstriker doesn’t work like that anymore. You can threaten us all you want, but we’re only two heads of a clan that’s governed by a council of three, and our third member is currently out of the country on business. Since it takes all three of us to make any formal decisions for our clan, I’m afraid we can’t sign or bow until he returns.”
“Any dragon can be made to bow,” the Empress Mother growled, her red eyes narrowing. “But if you are that eager to die, I would be happy to oblige.”
“I’m sure you would,” Julius said quickly. “But you’re still missing the point. This isn’t about our individual lives. Your emperor is demanding that Heartstriker surrender and join him, and Heartstriker’s a lot more than just us. We’re two-thirds of the ruling council, but the magic that governs the clan, which used to be Bethesda’s alone, is now split between all of us and only enacted by the Council, whose members are elected. That means even if you chop off our heads, the power to make magically binding decisions affecting all members of the Heartstriker clan—including surrender—won’t pass to an heir who might be ‘more reasonable.’ It’ll go back to the dragons who elected us in the first place, which is where it will stay until they choose new leaders. So, unless you’re willing to wait while our clan elects new heads to replace the ones you chop off today, you need to back down. When Ian comes home, we’ll hold a vote on your surrender, but without that vote, the only way you’re getting our clan to surrender is if you chase down every single Heartstriker and force each of them to bow individually, and I don’t think even the Golden Emperor has that kind of patience.”
“It is you who tests our patience,” the Empress Mother snarled. “You think I can’t see what you’re doing, whelp? But if you think your pathetic attempts to stall—”
“I’m not trying to hide it,” Julius said with a shrug. “Obviously, I don’t want to die, but that doesn’t mean that everything I’ve said isn’t true. We’re no longer a one-dragon dictatorship with a single point of failure. We’re a true clan now, with power shared by all, so if you want us to surrender, your choices are to defeat all of us—which, while I’m sure you could, would be long, bloody, and expensive even by your august standards—or wait until Ian returns, which should take about a day. Once he’s back, the Council will convene to formally consider your terms. Until then, you’re welcome to stay at Heartstriker Mountain as our guests.”
He finished with a confident smile. On the inside, though, Julius’s whole body was pounding in time with his heart. None of what he’d said was a lie, but if the rest of his family was as frightened of the Golden Emperor as Bethesda seemed to be, the empress could easily kill them and get her surrender from whomever took their place. But even if the next Council came in ready to roll over, they’d still have to wait while the Heartstrikers elected someone to actually do the rolling, and considering how much trouble the last vote had been, Julius was confident he could be a pain in the Golden Emperor’s side to the very end. It was small comfort, but considering his other options had been “surrender or die,” Julius was pretty happy with his play. The Empress Mother, however, looked angrier than ever.
“Do not presume to play games with me, child,” she said, her gnarled hands shaking on the golden handle of her cane with barely restrained fury. “Your clan has already fallen in all but the last, most formal definition. Why should we waste time pretending to be your guests when we’ve already—”
Her voice cut off like a dropped knife. Behind her, the Qilin had inclined his head. It was a tiny gesture, not even a proper nod. Julius wasn’t actually sure how the Empress Mother had noticed it considering she’d been glaring at him the whole time, but the instant her son had moved, the old dragoness had gone utterly silent, leaving the air empty for the deep voice that came next.
And what a voice it was. In magnificent accord with the rest of his perfections, the emperor’s voice sounded like a temple bell mixed with the world’s most well-played cello and…and every other low, beautiful sound Julius could think of. It went straight through him, making him want to immediately agree with whatever was said if only to hear that heartbreaking voice speak again. He was actually daydreaming about what it would sound like when he realized that, lost in the pure joy of hearing the emperor speak, he hadn’t actually comprehended a word of it.
“What?”
“I said, ‘we accept,’” the emperor repeated, his deep voice just as wondrous as before, but slightly more irritated. “I have no interest in a drawn-out conquest. Already, I tire of standing in this sand pit.”
He shifted his bare feet, which were resting on the only seemingly non-rocky patch of the entire New Mexico desert, and his mother clenched her jaw. “My emperor,” she said. “This i
s obviously a ploy to waste our time.”
“So it is,” he agreed, turning his cloth-draped head to look up at the mountain. “But they would not be Heartstrikers if they did not connive. Still, it matters not. Whether they fall now or tomorrow, the end will be the same. We shall accept their hospitality and wait.”
The enormous dragons surrounding him growled in discontent, but Julius was fighting not to grin. “We’re happy to accommodate you,” he said, holding out his hand to the emperor. “Welcome to Heartstriker Mountain.”
“You don’t have to play host,” the Golden Emperor said, ignoring the offered hand. “We will not be here long. You said your final member was out of the country on business?”
“Yes,” Julius said. “In Siberia.”
That sounded like something he’d made up to make his brother seem as far away as possible, but it was true. Svena’s home really was in Siberia. He was trying to think how to assure the emperor of this without giving away too much of Ian’s game when the Qilin shrugged.
“Nowhere is far these days,” he said calmly. “Twenty-four hours should be sufficient to come back from anywhere in the world.” He glanced over his shoulder at the morning sun, which was now well on its way into the sky. “I will give you until this time tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Julius said awkwardly, looking at his mother. “I’m not sure if he can—”
“He will arrive on time,” the emperor assured him. “I will it.”
He said that the same way anyone else would say “It is inevitable,” and for the Qilin, Julius supposed it was. But while twenty-four hours wasn’t much, it was still infinitely more time than they’d had when they’d come out here. Maybe even enough to find a way out of this mess. It was all they were getting in any case, so Julius decided it was good enough.
“One day will be fine,” he said, nodding. “Thank you, and let me show you into the mountain. I’m afraid you’ve caught us a bit shorthanded, but I’m sure we can find you a proper—”