Dragon Heartstring

by Cross, Juliette

  “Thank you, Shakara,” he said in a much calmer demeanor than Julian, who now ran around in a circle, making his kite soar in his arms.

  “I was glad to be of help.”

  “Julian!” called Jessen. “Come and eat.”

  He ran over to her in the shade.

  Demetrius openly stared at my wings. I cleared my throat to jar him out of his little trance, but he remained transfixed.

  “Why are you staring like that?”

  “Sorry. It’s just that, well… I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I’ve never seen a Morgon fly up close.”

  “What? You’re kidding, right?”

  He shook his head. “It’s always been from afar.”

  Of course, he hadn’t. He didn’t know any Morgons. Not as friends. He may have witnessed Morgons in flight over the city or leaving from rooftop terraces, but he hadn’t seen one up close and personal.

  “And does it make you uncomfortable? I know that you’re not around Morgons often. And perhaps not very fond of them.” I added the last in a hushed tone.

  He frowned. “No.” He stepped closer, leaning toward me as if he might reach out and touch my wing. But he didn’t. “I found your flight…breathtaking.”

  Breathtaking was watching him study me with those beautiful brown eyes. “That was nothing. You should see me when I really fly.”

  Why was I enticing the man? My dragon wanted to prance around for him.

  His heated gaze captured mine. “I would like that.”

  I’d meant it hypothetically, yet he answered as if it were an invitation. Right then, I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Demetrius Cade was flirting with me. This was dangerous.

  “Shall we go eat?” I asked.

  “After you,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  I moved ahead, once more feeling the intensity of his gaze at my back.

  Some people exude a light aura, making one feel comfortable and secure, no matter how close they stand next to you. Then there are others whose presence feels heavy and daunting, an immovable fixture whose weight fills up the space around them. And then there’s a presence like Demetrius. One who seeps up the very air around him, filling it with his dominance, as if he owns every domain in which he steps. Perhaps that’s because he usually did. But as he followed behind me, it was more than that. I felt his gaze like a physical touch, like a lover’s caress. By the time I knelt down on the blanket, I was breathless, my chest rising and falling too quickly.

  “Are you all right?” asked Jessen, a concerned expression pinching her brow.

  “I’m fine.” I waved away her concern, wishing she hadn’t drawn attention to me. Demetrius may not be a Morgon, but he was surely adept at detecting how he affected other women. I didn’t want to be one of the many who trembled in his presence.

  Of course, that’s exactly who I was at the moment.

  “Did the kite break?” asked Jessen.

  “No,” said Demetrius. “Thanks to Shakara. We’ll give it a second flight after lunch.”

  “Hmph. Not that I can keep Julian sitting down long enough to eat. Julian!”

  He continued to bounce around, flapping his wings, which couldn’t yet lift him off the ground.

  Demetrius reached over for a sandwich. “At what age do Morgons begin to fly?”

  Jessen answered before I could. “Between ten to twelve years old. Though some have known to fly as young as eight.” She popped a grape in her mouth.

  “Someone’s been studying Morgon anatomy,” I added before taking a bite of my sandwich. I reached for a napkin.

  She laughed. “I have. Slightly obsessed actually.” Her gaze followed her son, who finally skipped toward us. “Becoming a mother makes you neurotic about such things.”

  Panting, Julian stopped in front of us. “Momma, I’m not hungry.”

  “You say that, but you’ll be starving soon enough. Here, Ruth made berry jam-stuffed biscuits just for you.”

  His eyes lit up, and he snatched one of the pastries before taking off to gallop across the park lawn again.

  “He has a sweet tooth,” said Jessen. “Like you did, Demetrius.”

  “I still do,” he admitted, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.

  Jessen opened a container of chocolate cakes sprinkled with nuts and passed it to him.

  He took one, his expression turning serious. “So tell me about this hearing.”

  Jessen glanced at me as if asking permission. I’d better take the lead on this one.

  “There was a conflict between a Morgon and a human at one of the small villages between Gladium and Drakos. Farrow’s Dell is the name of the village. It was apparently a negotiation over some imports into Drakos. Blackmarket stuff. Anyway, a fight broke out, and the human ended it with a Volt gun. Unfortunately, he didn’t hit the man he was fighting but another Morgon in the bar who tried to break up the fight. He died on impact. He was an Icewing, a local healer. My cousin, to be precise.”

  I’d not known my cousin well, but his death rocked the clan, bringing with it a vow by all to find justice for our clansman. And the best way was to rid the world of the abominable weapon that had needlessly taken his life.

  Demetrius took in the story without a blink. When I finished, he sighed and set down his dessert, then wiped his fingers on a napkin.

  “I’ve never been a proponent of the Volt gun. But stockholders of Cade Enterprises have been.”

  “What do you think Father’s reaction will be regarding this proposal to ban them?” asked Jessen.

  He scoffed with an arch of one brow. “Exactly what you think it will be. He’ll fight it.”

  “Not if you persuade him not to,” she added pointedly.

  A pause stretched between the three of us. A breeze drifted past, rustling the leaves in the trees. Julian chased the red ones drifting down from a nearby elm.

  “This isn’t your fight,” I said. “You don’t have to get involved at all. Actually, Jessen, I’m surprised you’d drag your brother into this.”

  “Shakara, without powerful backing from some heavy-hitting corporate businessmen, you and your clan will lose this battle.”

  “You don’t have much faith in us.”

  “It has nothing to do with faith. It has to do with money. Trust me. This is a world I know a lot about. I grew up in it.”

  “Exactly. You plan to speak for us,” I added with conviction. “You’re from the powerful Cade family. Surely, they’ll listen to you.”

  “Right,” she replied on a laugh. “And my father disowned me when I married a Morgon. Trust me, I have no power to sway the rich and powerful of Gladium Province. But I’ll give it a try nonetheless.”

  “Does Moira know about any of this?” he asked.

  “No. And I’ll keep it from her if I can help it. God knows she’s been in the limelight too much since I married Lucius.”

  Demetrius’s expression relaxed. “My thoughts exactly.”

  One thing was for certain. Demetrius cared for the wellbeing of his sisters, which contradicted his image of the hard-dealing executive of Cade Technologies. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe the person he showed the world wasn’t who he was at all.

  Jessen stood, brushing some crumbs from her jeans. “Demetrius, I know how important your career is to you. Don’t feel you have to intervene, especially if you don’t believe in this cause. It could be more detrimental to you than anyone else, if we should lose. I just thought I’d give it a try.” She picked up the kite and followed after Julian.

  Demetrius was awfully silent, while frustration welled inside of me, tightening my gut. For Jessen not believing in our clan’s ability to get our proposal passed, for the fact the Volt gun had been created and sold in mass market, for the fact we still lived in a corrupt, unjust world.

  “Jessen’s right,” he said gently. “You need businessmen who will back your proposal. Human businessmen.”

  “I know,” I said, gathering the plates and hastily plopping
them back into the basket. “So much for Gladium being the enlightened city in a world of ignorance.” I stood abruptly, needing to walk off my frustration.

  He joined me and grabbed my hand, stopping me from slipping away. Stunned, I stared down at his strong hand wrapped around mine. He let me go, and some part of me wished he hadn’t.

  “Yes, it’s true Gladium is not yet as tolerant as it ought to be. And while laws have tried to enforce equality, you must realize that people can’t easily change their way of thinking. Many have been taught from childhood to fear Morgonkind.”

  “Why can’t they change their way of thinking? I have,” I snapped. “I used to believe Morgons were the superior race. Until I moved here. Until I opened my own clinic so that I could treat humans. You know why I wanted to treat them?” My voice shook, but I couldn’t stop the confession from spilling. He said not a word, simply held me in his warm gaze. “Because I pitied them. I felt sorry for humans who didn’t have the magical gifts we did, who weren’t born with the advanced genes Morgons have. But after I healed several patients and I had the experience of knowing humans on an intimate level, I realized that humans have their own gifts. Of compassion and kindness and love they seem to give more freely than my own race.” Unable to hold back my emotion, a tear slipped down my cheek. I turned away.

  “Please don’t cry.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a handkerchief.

  Ashamed at my loss of control, I briskly wiped the tears.

  He let me gather my composure, then said gently, “Morgons and humans both have the capacity for love. And for hate.”

  Unable to meet his gaze, for I didn’t want to find pity there, I stared down at my fingers twisting his handkerchief.

  “Look at me, Shakara. Please.”

  I did.

  “I plan to champion your cause. I want the ban on the Volt gun. For my own reasons. But also for your people.” He paused, then added quietly, almost inaudibly. “For you.”

  Struck by this admission, I steadied my breathing and tried to calm myself. Why would he want to help me?

  “Won’t that hurt Cade Enterprises?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It will depend upon my father and where he stands.”

  “You would go against your father for this?”

  “I would do more for—” He stopped himself before he finished his thought.

  Julian squealed with laughter. He and Jessen had the kite lifting back up into the air.

  “She’s a beautiful dragon,” I remarked, heart still hammering from our intimate encounter.

  “Yes,” he said, still gazing down at me, “she is.”

  Chapter 3

  The head of the Chamber of Commerce had gone through all the items on the agenda except one. I’d said nothing the entire meeting. One of the older board members blustered about a slight export tax increase, but then settled down when it was announced the import tax had nearly doubled. Since most of us on the board exported vast quantities of goods to the human province Primus and even to the northern Morgon provinces of Drakos and Cloven, profits would continue to rise.

  Finally, the head of the board shuffled his stack of papers to the last page. He cleared his throat. “Lastly, the Icewing clan is presenting a proposal before the senate two weeks from today. The proposal summary reads, ‘Due to inhumane and unsanctioned manufacturing, the Morgon Guild proposes a removal of the Volt gun from the human market and confiscation of the weapon from current distributors.”

  “What? The Guild members have lost their minds. Why would human manufacturers and distributors possibly give up millions because a few Morgons have suddenly labeled the gun inhumane?”

  It was Terrence Blackwater, a colleague and friend of the Grayson family. He could pretend surprise all he wanted, but he knew about this proposal before he stepped in here.

  “Because it is,” I said from my end of the table.

  All eyes swiveled to me.

  Terrence chuckled. “Demetrius, don’t tell me the Cade family is buying into this.”

  “The Cade family will abide by whatever ruling parliament makes.”

  “Then there’s no more debate,” said Terrence, leaning back in his chair. “Parliament cannot possibly rule against us.”

  “And who is ‘us’?” I asked pointedly.

  Terrence laughed with a wave of his hand. “Who do you think, Cade? Whose side are you on?”

  “I didn’t realize there were sides.”

  He scoffed. “You’ve been spending too much time with your in-laws and that…nephew of yours.”

  Leaning forward, I clenched my fist on the glass table. Pierson, a friend of my father’s, pressed a hand to my sleeve to keep me in place. I swept my gaze around the room. “I suggest you all prepare for the banning of the Volt gun. The fact is, it is inhumane.”

  “That’s preposterous,” said one of the white-haired members who’d been on the Chamber since I was an infant. “It’s no more inhumane than a handgun or a long-gun.”

  Unclenching my fist, I tapped a finger casually, though my blood ran like wildfire through my veins. “Hmm. Let me see. Is there a handgun on the market that guarantees death upon impact? Is there a long-gun that guarantees death upon impact of the deer you hunt, even if it merely grazes a leg?”

  “Wouldn’t be much of a sport,” grumbled Pierson.

  “That’s absolutely true,” I said. “There are few instances in our society where guns are meant for a guaranteed kill. If there’s an intruder in your home, you want to stop them, wound them. Even the Gladium Police Precinct does not sanction the use of Volt guns. Have you ever wondered why?”

  Terrence waved a hand with a grunt of disgust. “That’s just politics. If we could remove all the red tape, they’d be allowed to use Volt guns. I mean, how do we know when these savages plan to turn on us? We’ve got to be ready.”

  Silence fell across the table. The head of the board shuffled his papers again. I stood, glaring down the table at Terrence.

  “And there you have it gentlemen. Bigotry at its best.” I buttoned my suit jacket and walked toward the door. I turned once more to the hushed group of men. Human men. “But you’d better take a look around and consider your own motives, gentlemen. Gladium has been declared by law an equal opportunity state. While I stand here in this room, I see not one Morgon representing their own kind while you make your accusations against them. Perhaps that’s because no Morgon would choose to keep a weapon on the market that murders their own kind so they can make another buck.”

  I didn’t bother to excuse myself but stormed out before I lunged across the room and punched Terrence in his perfect white teeth. I could hardly think straight as I made my way to the parking garage and clicked my fob to unlock my black SUV. As soon as I settled behind the wheel, my car comm bleeped. My secretary was calling.

  “Answer,” I commanded my voice-activated car comm, one of my most successful products since I took over Cade Technologies.

  Nadine popped on-screen, smiling brightly as usual. The woman was never in a bad mood. “Good morning, Mr. Cade.”

  “Morning, Nadine.”

  “You’ve had a request from Aron Grayson’s office for an appointment tomorrow morning. Your schedule is clear, but I know you often make your rounds at the stores on Thursdays. I wanted to check with you first.”

  Aron Grayson wanted an appointment with me? What a coincidence after the Chamber of Commerce meeting I just left. I hadn’t spoken to the man since I’d left him in the burn unit at the hospital four years ago. I’d seen him at charities, but had stayed well away from him to avoid conflict.

  “Sir?”

  “Uh, yes. Go ahead and schedule him in. And move whatever else I have this morning to tomorrow. I’ll go into the city today for my site visits.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Curious why Aron was reaching out after all this time, I clicked off the comm. But I was fairly sure I knew the answer. We’d been friends once. But our friendship died l
ong ago.

  Switching my thoughts and my direction toward the Warwick District, I smiled. Today would be a good day to drop in on our tech shop there, one block over from Sable Street.

  Chapter 4

  “Carra, where’s the Weber chart?” I asked before stepping in to see the last patient still waiting.

  “Oh, sorry, Ms. Icewing. I thought I’d put it in the door cubby.” She popped off her chair and pulled the file before I could beat her to it. “Right here.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  I’d hired Carra with the hope that a kind, human face in the front office would diminish the fears of our few human clients who risked coming to a free clinic run by Morgon healers.

  “What’s the injury? No broken bones, I hope.”

  “No. A stomach ailment only, his mother said.”

  “Good,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I’m fatigued from healing this morning’s construction workers.”

  Using Morgon magic to heal always drained the Icewing healer. The greater the injury, the more energy was required and the more tired we’d become. The two Morgon men whose legs were crushed under a fallen pylon needed extensive healing. I was nearly wiped out for the day.

  Carra returned to the cabinet where she was filing charts from this morning’s patients. “You should take the day off tomorrow to rest.”

  “Yes. I probably should.” I glanced at the human child’s chart, noting he was a new patient, but the mother had been into the clinic before. “This one should be quick, though,” I said, entering room three where Daniel Weber sat, clutching at his stomach. His mother straightened when I entered.