by Rachel Aaron
“I will,” Chelsie promised. “I will hunt you every day of my life if that’s what it takes, but I will kill you, Bethesda.” She bared her teeth, forcing Julius to put another hand on his sword to hold her in place. “You will pay for what you’ve done!”
“What I’ve done?!” their mother roared. “I saved your life, you ungrateful child! I begged for you!”
“And you’ve lorded it over me every day since!” Chelsie roared back. “I’ve saved your hide more times than I can count over the last six hundred years, and you repaid me by making me kill my brothers and sisters so you could play the good mother and keep your hands clean!” She lurched against the Fang’s hold, her eyes flashing with more emotion than Julius had ever seen on her face before. “You will pay!”
“Not before you do,” Bethesda snarled, lifting her chin as she turned to Ian. “Do you want to know what Chelsie’s been hiding all these years? The secret shame she can’t let anyone—”
Julius released his grip on the sword, and Chelsie pounced, tackling Bethesda back to the ground before he could freeze her again.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” his mother cried, scrambling out from under her second near-fatal mauling in as many minutes.
“Making a point,” Julius said calmly. “I don’t care what you did before. All I care about is our future together, as a clan. But that can’t happen if we stay mired in the past. Now, I can’t make Chelsie not want to kill you, but she might be willing to let things slide if you swear never to tell her secret.”
Bethesda stared at him like she couldn’t believe what he’d just said, but it was his sister who took the suggestion worst of all. “Never!” she snarled. “I will never let her slide again. You have no idea what she’s done!”
“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I’m not asking for your mercy or forgiveness, Chelsie. I’m asking you to compromise.”
“You’re letting her get away with murder!” she roared, jerking against his Fang’s magic with a fury that gave him an instant splitting headache.
“I know,” Julius said, gripping down tighter than ever. “But the killing has to stop somewhere, which means someone is going to get away unpunished. I can’t tell you how bad I wish it wasn’t her. You’re not the only one Bethesda’s stepped on. But no matter how much she deserves it, I can’t let you kill her, and you know it. But I can give you something I think you want even more: freedom.”
Chelsie didn’t deny it, but she didn’t look convinced, either. “She’ll never let me go.”
“She’ll have no choice,” Julius said, turning back to Bethesda. “Because she’s going to swear a blood oath of her own never to tell your secret to anyone. In return, you’ll swear not to kill her.”
“So we’ll both lose,” Chelsie growled. “And her crimes go unpunished forever.”
“Technically yes,” Julius said. “But I’d say you’re the clear winner here. You get to go free and live your life without worrying about Mother holding something over your head, but if she wants to keep any of her power, she’ll have to remain here in the private hell that I’m sure this Council will be for her. That definitely sounds like you’re getting the better end of the deal.”
Bethesda clearly didn’t like that logic, but since Julius was the only reason she was alive at the moment, she wisely (and surprisingly) kept her mouth shut, watching Chelsie, who seemed to be fighting herself. She must have wanted to kill Bethesda even more than Julius realized, because it took her forever to decide. But then, finally, the pressure on his Fang eased as Chelsie clamped down on her bloodlust and stepped back, glaring at her mother with a look that was now more disgust than hate.
“Swear it,” she growled. “Swear you will never tell anyone why we left China. Swear on your blood and your clan that you will take my secret to your grave, and I’ll promise not to be the one who puts you in it.”
Bethesda lifted her chin. “An oath for an oath,” she demanded. “Swear on your blood not to kill me, and I’ll keep your foolish little secret to myself.”
Chelsie ground her teeth, but in the end, she nodded, reaching up with a sharpened nail to slice open her hand. Once the blood started welling, she paused, glaring at her mother. “You first.”
“Mistrustful little snake,” Bethesda said, reaching up to wipe a smear of blood from one of the small cuts on her bruised neck before pressing the bloody fingers to her lips. “I swear on my blood and my fire, on my power and my life, if you honor your oaths, I will keep your secret to my grave.”
Julius frowned. He’d never heard that particular oath before, but it must have been a powerful one. Even sealed, he could feel his mother’s magic rising like flames around them, burning the words of her promise into the two dragonesses’ flesh as Chelsie pressed her own bloody hand to her mouth.
“I swear on my blood and my fire,” she growled. “On my power and my life, if you honor your oaths, I will abandon all attempts to kill you, now or in the future.”
Chelsie’s magic joined Bethesda’s as she spoke, the two flames spinning together in a maelstrom as sharp as dragon teeth. Then, as suddenly as it had risen, the magic was gone, sinking into the two dragonesses’ skin as the blood vanished from their hands.
“And that’s that,” Bethesda said, reaching up to rub her injured neck. “I—”
She never got to finish. As soon as the magic sank in, Chelsie hauled back and punched her in the face. It happened so quickly, Julius didn’t even have time to grab his sword. When he finally did get his hand around it, though, there was no need, because his sister didn’t try to attack again. She just stood there staring down at Bethesda, who was lying on the ground, swearing up a storm while clutching her dislocated jaw. Then, without a word, Chelsie turned and walked away.
Every step was faster than the last. By the time she reached the balcony where she’d dropped her sword, she was practically sprinting, running right past her abandoned Fang as she bolted through the balcony door and did a swan dive out into the open air. For a terrifying second, her body vanished over the edge, and then an enormous dragon burst into view, its matte-black-dyed feathers rippling in the afternoon sunlight as Chelsie flew silently and swiftly toward the horizon, her huge wings pushing her faster and faster until she was out of sight.
“I suppose that’s her way of saying ‘I quit,’” Ian said, walking over to offer his hand to the injured Bethesda, who smacked it away. “So what now?”
“What do you mean ‘what now?’” their mother spat, wrenching her jaw back into place with a sickening crack before marching back to the Council table and slamming herself down in her chair. “Chelsie’s not the only one who wants to go flying. You two idiots still owe me a vote.”
Given how she’d behaved through all of this, Julius didn’t want to give her anything. But a deal was a deal, and so, with a final look at the empty blue horizon, he went back to the table as well, taking his seat across from Ian as Bethesda grabbed a sheet of paper and began writing down the Council edict that would finally authorize Amelia to break the seal Estella had made her put on their mother and give the Heartstriker her dragon back.
***
“And there she goes,” Bob said from the edge of Amelia’s balcony, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watched the black speck of a dragon vanish out of sight.
“Good for her,” Amelia wheezed from her couch by her magical circle. “Though I suppose this means Julius didn’t take your advice.”
“I knew he wouldn’t,” the seer said, walking back inside to join her. “It was hopeless from the start. His mind was already set.”
Amelia nodded, but she didn’t open her eyes. She just lay there like a frail old woman, her hands clutching the cut-glass tumbler containing the last of her really good scotch. “Why do it, then?” she whispered. “You seriously harmed his trust in you.”
“I did worse than that,” Bob said, reaching down to help her raise the tumbler to her colorless lips. “But it had to be done. If this is goi
ng to work, I needed a tool even I couldn’t break, and you can’t know if someone won’t cave unless you push them.”
“Still seems too risky to me,” Amelia said, taking a tiny sip. “What if he never trusts you again?”
“He shouldn’t,” Bob growled, taking the glass away. “I’m out of time, Amelia. From here out, there’s no more room for error. Everything has to work exactly the first time.”
“And it will,” she assured him, cracking her eyes open at last with a weak smile. “I’ve known since you had your first vision at thirteen that you’d be the greatest seer ever born. I’ve bet my life on you countless times, and you’ve always come through. This time will be no different.”
“So you say,” he whispered, reaching down to stroke her brittle hair. “But you’re cutting it awful close, dearest.”
“What’s the point of gambling if you aren’t willing to go all in?” Amelia said with a hollow laugh. “And it was past time for a change. I’ve been traveling the planes for a thousand years now. Thanks to the time dilation, that makes me old even by dragon standards, but planeswalking can’t challenge me anymore. I need something new. Something I can sink my teeth into forever.” She smiled. “You might say I’m finally ready to settle down. Before I do, though, there’s one last loose end to tie up.”
She reached into the folds of her blanket and plucked out a heavy envelope with Julius’s name on it. “What’s this?” Bob asked, truly curious. He’d foreseen there would be a letter, but he hadn’t glimpsed what was inside.
“A condolence gift,” she said. “For our Nice Dragon. It was ridiculously hard after Marci’s death left me like this.” She waved down at her emaciated body. “But I did it. I finally managed to crack those hateful green eyes. It was actually stupidly simple, which I should have guessed from the start. Mother’s never been much of a mage.” She tapped her fingers on the envelope. “Anyway, I’ve written it all down in steps even a J should be able to follow. With this, he should be able to break the whole clan free if he wants to.”
That was a surprise indeed, but Bob was in too much of a hurry to savor it. “Who did you break out?” he asked as he took the letter.
“Fredrick,” she said. “He was quite shocked, but who wouldn’t be? Dragon eyes usually come from the father, and with eyes like those, there can be no doubt.”
“Well, I hope you covered them right back up again,” the seer said with a nervous look at the horizon. “If Chelsie finds out, she’ll have our heads.”
“You mean your head,” Amelia said. “Because unless she gets here in the next five minutes, she’ll be too late for mine.”
Bob’s hands began to shake. “Amelia…”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I gave Fredrick an illusion that should do the trick long enough. I’m not trying to air dirty laundry or ruffle any feathers. I just wanted to make sure I could die in peace knowing Svena never beat me at a single thing.”
She grinned up at her brother, but Bob was looking at his feet. “You know, maybe we should wait another—”
“No!” she snarled, grabbing his arm. “We can’t put this off any longer, Brohomir. Look at me! Between Marci’s death and breaking the green eyes, I’m running on fumes. You were the one who just said there’d be no more second chances. That includes me.” She let him go, falling back to her couch with an exhausted sigh. “This whole thing was our idea, yours and mine. I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn.”
He knew that. He’d seen this day coming for a century now, but like all his visions, knowing didn’t make it any easier to accept. “Can’t it be someone else?” he choked out at last. “Svena would do it in a heartbeat, but I don’t know if I can…” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “You’re the only real family I’ve ever had, Amelia.”
“But that’s why it has to be you,” she said softly, reaching up to brush his long hair back from his face. “I might be grossly weakened, but I still have the feeling I’m going to take this rather badly, and you’re the only one I could never bring myself to kill.”
Bob knew that, too. He’d told her as much himself back when all of this had seemed terribly clever rather than just terrible. Every step of this day had been planned for decades, and yet…
“Enough,” Amelia growled, tossing back the last of her scotch before sitting up and chucking the empty glass tumbler off the balcony. “No more hesitation. I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
He wasn’t, but seeing how he never would be, Bob supposed that didn’t matter. So, since he clearly wasn’t getting out of this, he focused instead on sharpening his magic, sending his pigeon safely away to perch on Amelia’s pile of empty bottles while he honed his fire. When it was as sharp as he could make it, he turned back to his sister.
“Ready?”
She held her emaciated arms out wide, which was answer enough. With no more chance of escape, Brohomir decided to just get this over with as quickly as possible, moving at his full speed for the first time in centuries as he punched forward, plunging the talon of his sharpened magic deep into Amelia’s chest.
As predicted, she did not take it well. Even on death’s door, Amelia was one of the strongest dragons on the planet, and she fought to the last breath. If he’d been anyone else, she would have ripped his throat out, among other things. But even in her dying struggles, Amelia’s attacks never landed anywhere truly vital, and eventually she fell still, her frail hands sliding off him as she slumped over.
For a long moment, she lay motionless on the couch. Then, in a single instant, her entire body turned to pure-white ash. It held her shape for an instant, and then a breeze blew in from the open balcony, and what was left of his favorite sister collapsed into dust. When Bob finally worked up the courage to pull his hands free of the ash, a beautiful orange flame was cupped in his palms. It was the last of Amelia’s fire, the purest magic of the greatest dragon mage he’d ever known. He was still staring at it when a shocked voice spoke behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Bob shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a seer, after all. But hunched over the fire and ash that was all that remained of the sister who’d been more of a mother to him than Bethesda could ever claim, Bob had lost track of time, which was the only reason he hadn’t been ready and waiting when Svena teleported into Amelia’s room carrying a frozen bottle of Aquavit and two tall glasses.
“What are you doing?” she said again, the frosty liquor bottle crashing to the ground as her blue eyes went from Bob and the fire to the pile of ash on Amelia’s couch. “What have you done?”
“What she asked,” Bob said, closing his hands protectively over the flickering orange flame.
Stumbling in shock, Svena made her way to the couch, reaching down to touch what was left of Amelia with trembling fingers. “My enemy,” she whispered, her cold voice cracking. “My only true rival.” The delicate ash crumbled even further when she touched it, and Svena snatched her hand away, whirling on Bob instead. “You killed her!”
When he didn’t deny it, ice raced across the floor, filling the enormous cave and dropping the air temperature to below freezing in seconds. “How dare you?” Svena roared, rocking the mountain with her rage. “She was mine! My rival! My friend! Mine to kill! How dare you take her from me?” She threw out her arm, launching a barrage of razor-sharp ice straight at his head. “I will kill you!”
“But you can’t,” Bob said, dodging the ice easily before stepping into position to avoid the next attack, which she hadn’t even formed yet. “First, we’re in the desert, which means you have to work twice as hard to produce your ice cubes. Second, you’re pregnant and pouring most of your power into your still-forming eggs. Third, I’m a seer, and we both know that if you could kill one of those, you’d have done so ages ago and saved us all a lot of trouble.”
Svena responded by throwing a giant ice spike at his head, but Bob simply leaned sideways, letting it sweep by him with inches to spare. The next attack pla
yed out the same way, as did the one after that, but Svena didn’t stop. Her rage wouldn’t let her, and so she kept going, launching ice wildly at Brohomir until there was nothing left.
“You see?” Bob said as she doubled over, panting as she clutched her rounded belly. “I was right.”
“Shut up,” Svena snarled, glaring at him. “I can see now why my sister hated you, but it matters not.” She tapped her fingers on her pregnant stomach. “We both know I’m the only expecting dragoness in the world right now. My eggs will be the first to hatch since Estella’s death. That means my daughter will be the next seer, and I swear, Brohomir, as soon as she is born, I will teach her to hate you. Together, we will ruin your every plot, disrupt your every effort purely for the joy of seeing you fail.” She straightened up with a haughty look. “When we are done, you will wish I had killed you here as you killed her.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “But there’s an old saying about counting your chickens before they hatch, Svena.”
“You’re one to talk about chickens, feathered snake,” she growled, her white-blond hair whipping in the wind as a swirl of snow kicked up around her. “But I think I’ve coddled these eggs enough. When I see you again, I’ll have a seer of my own at my side, and the first thing I’ll teach her is how to pluck a Heartstriker.”
“Looking forward to it,” Bob said, but his heart wasn’t in it. Svena was already gone in any case, vanishing in a storm of ice and fury to go lay her eggs in a fit of vengeance for her lost friend. Depressing as that picture was, though, Bob was glad Svena had her anger to carry her through. Having someone to hate undoubtedly felt better than the dull ache in his own chest as he carried Amelia’s flickering fire—which he’d kept safe in his hands throughout the fight—out of her room and down the countless stairs to the very bottom of the mountain.
As foreseen, the Fs’ quarters were empty. A quick glance at the future revealed that they’d all taken a page from Chelsie and skipped town, barreling into the sky to enjoy their newfound freedom the second the news of their release came down. He’d be alone here for six hours at least, more than enough time, but that didn’t stop Bob from walking quickly down the corridor, passing Amelia’s fire to one hand as he set to work on Chelsie’s door.