by Rachel Aaron
“Not to be a nag,” Sibyl whispered nervously in my earpiece as we walked through the security scanners and threat-detection wards. “But seeing as we’re entering the point of no return, I have to ask: are you sure you want to do this? I know you and your dad aren’t on the best terms right now, but the Peacemaker is not his friend. This isn’t a safe space for you.”
“Nowhere’s a safe space for me anymore,” I said as the door lights turned green, allowing me to proceed through the security cage to the row of clerk windows inside. “But if there’s one dragon Yong won’t mess with casually, it’s the Peacemaker. Dad may not be part of his big dragon alliance, but one of the reasons the Peacemaker built this place was to improve human/dragon relations, and mine definitely need improving. Also, he’s called the ‘Peacemaker’ for pity’s sake. If I’m going to run to another dragon, I might as well go for the one who’s famous for talking rather than biting.”
“I can’t fault your logic,” Sibyl said. “But your father is not going to like this.”
“Good thing I don’t have to care about what he likes anymore,” I snapped, stepping up to the window to show the worker my ID. The human clerk inside did a double take when she saw my name, but I must have checked out with their records, because she didn’t ask questions. She just buzzed the door open and told me to follow the signs to Mortal Services on the third floor. I thanked her and stepped through, walking past a security window overlooking the crowded tourist lobby with its velvet ropes, augmented-reality displays of dragons in flight, and expansive gift shop into the actual business part of the building.
The inside of the Dragon Consulate was just as confusing now as the last time I’d been here. I didn’t know if that was because it had been designed to make sense to twisty dragon minds or if the excessive complication was the natural result of trying to cram so many different offices into one enormous building, but the hallways snaked on forever. Fortunately for me, the lower levels all were mortal turf, and not even the sort you usually found near dragons. No one down here was remarkably beautiful or impeccably dressed. Other than the interesting job titles on the doors like “Treasure Hoard Tax Assistance,” “Modern Life Integration Counseling,” and “Accidental Municipal Arson Mitigation Unit,” everyone down here seemed to be perfectly normal office workers of the sort you’d see at any corporate HQ in the DFZ.
Ironically, the Dragon Consulate actually looked more like a municipal building than any of the actual municipal buildings I’d been to in the city so far. I didn’t know how a dragon managed to out-bureaucracy the spirit of a city, but this place was pure social services right down to the fluorescent lights, beige carpet, and plastic racks of free informational pamphlets. I felt like I was coming to file a zoning complaint as I walked through the glass doors marked “Mortal Services” and approached the wrap-around desk staffed with middle-aged women all wearing the same “don’t even try it” expressions.
They all seemed equally unhappy to see me, so I went for the closest one, flashing the lady my best beleaguered expression as I walked up to the desk. “Hello,” I said. “I need help. I’m stuck under a dragon curse.”
She looked unimpressed. “Is the dragon part of the Peacekeeper’s Accord?”
“No.”
The lady gave me a “then what do you want me to do about it?” look, but she’d clearly been at this for a long time, so she kept any actual comments to herself. “Fill this out, and we’ll see what we can do,” she said instead, handing me an old-fashioned touchscreen tablet from the pile beside her.
I smiled politely as I took it, walking over to the couch with a sinking feeling. I knew my dad wasn’t one of the Peacemaker’s buddies, but I’d hoped for better than a standard form. I’d thought mentioning the curse would at least get me a meeting with an actual dragon of some sort, but the bar for concern in this place must have been damn high, because the woman at the counter hadn’t even blinked. Still, the waiting room was nice enough, and, more importantly, there were no dragons. The Dragon Consulate was famously riddled with spies. Every clan in the world had someone in the building listening for gossip, but they all seemed to be up top where the dragon intrigue happened. Down here in the bureaucratic bowels of the Peacemaker’s great social experiment, there was no one important, and while that didn’t help my emergency, at least I was free to fill out my form in peace.
It took me five minutes to fill out the electronic questionnaire with all my important information. When I was done, I handed the tablet back to the lady and settled in to wait. There was no one else on the couches, so I was hoping it wouldn’t be long, but I’d barely pulled out my phone to play a round of Candy Crush 2099 when someone yelled my name.
“Opal!”
I jumped a foot off the beige cushions. I didn’t even have to look up to know that wasn’t the staff calling me back. My ears already knew that voice wasn’t human. Nothing mortal could sound that pretty while inspiring instinctive terror. Sure enough, when I raised my head, there was a dragon standing in the office doorway. But while she clearly recognized me, I couldn’t say the same for her.
She was beautiful, of course. Every dragon, even the young, scrubby ones, looked like a supermodel in their human form. My mother claimed it was just their natural superiority showing through, but I’d always suspected it was a hunting adaptation. Tasty humans let you get a lot closer when you were dazzlingly gorgeous.
This one’s mortal mask looked ethnically Korean. That meant her territory must have been near my father’s since dragons tended to adopt the guise of whatever mortals lived in their area, but I didn’t recognize her from any of my father’s parties, which made me even more nervous. There was only one Asian dragon my father never invited to view his collections, and that was the one who hated him the most.
“White Snake,” I said softly, pressing my back into the couch’s hard cushions in the hope I could vanish between their cracks. “What are you doing here?”
The dragoness’s blood-red lips curled in a predatory smile. “It’s Lady White Snake to you, little girl,” she said, walking into the waiting room. Now that she was inside, I could see that she had her mortals in tow, a pair of handsome, impeccably dressed young men wearing the same ludicrously expensive AR sunglasses Ainsley had sported. It should have looked ridiculous in a fluorescent-lit room with no windows, but nothing looked stupid when you were that good-looking and standing in the shadow of your dragon. I, however, was alone and on the wrong side of the power balance. A fact White Snake did everything she could to drive home.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” she said, stalking closer. “The last time we met, you were still just a little puppy.” She brushed her razor-sharp nails over my cheek, waiting for me to flinch. When I didn’t, she moved on.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her lovely voice perfectly casual, as if she’d just happened to bump into me in a place she had absolutely no conceivable business being. Even the ladies behind the counter had lost their seen-everything expressions. Two had stopped their work to watch, while a third was frantically whispering into a phone. If I’d had sense, I would have run behind the counter to join them, but I was at the end of a very peculiar day, and—ironic, given where I was—I’d had enough of dragon bullshit.
“I could ask you the same question,” I said, glaring up at her. “Did you finally give in and join the Peacemaker’s social club?”
“Never,” White Snake said with a laugh. “The Peacemaker has forgotten what it means to be a dragon, if he ever knew in the first place. I’m just here to take advantage of his declared neutrality while I negotiate a contract. Routine business, nothing special.”
I fought not to roll my eyes.
“So how’s your father?” she went on, moving her hand up to play with my unwashed hair. “I hear he’s been feeling poorly.”
“He’s fine.”
“How can that be if you’re here?” she cooed. “Aren’t you the treasure he’ll do anything to prot
ect?”
When that failed to get a rise, White Snake leaned down, dropping her voice to a stage whisper as she pressed her red lips to my ear. “If you’re here about Yong, I can help you far more than the Peacemaker’s lackeys. I understand my brother better than these outsiders ever could, and unlike them, I won’t make you wait in the foyer like a common peasant. I’ll treat you like the elevated mortal you are, and if you show proper respect, I might even take that curse off just for the pleasure of watching Yong squirm. So what do you say, Dragon’s Opal? Want to trade up?”
It was a sign of how mad I was at my dad right now that I actually considered it. I trusted White Snake even less than I’d trust a normal dragon, but it would have been so satisfying to let her remove my curse knowing my dad couldn’t do anything to stop her. As tempting as that mental image was, though, it was a pipe dream. No matter what she promised, White Snake would never remove my curse. Not if she could use it against my father instead. She would absolutely put me under her claws, though, and I wasn’t about to trade my pain-in-the-ass dragon for one that was even worse.
“No thank you.”
I leaned back as I spoke, giving myself room for when she inevitably went nuclear, since that was what dragons did when you told them no. To my astonishment, though, White Snake just smiled.
“You should really reconsider, little pumpkin,” she told me sweetly. “Your father’s good at hiding weakness, but we both know he’s in a bad way. This is a rare opportunity for both of us. Don’t you want to make him pay for what he’s done to you?”
My breath hitched, not in temptation but in fury. I might be super mad at my dad right now, but I was no traitor. Yong was an overbearing ass who deserved everything he’d done to himself and more, but like hell was I going to sell him out to his sleazy sister. The snakes could fight each other all they wanted, but I refused to be a weapon in their war. I was done being a dragon’s possession, just like I was done with this conversation.
“Piss off,” I told her.
The dragoness above me went so still, I swore her cells stopped moving. “What did you say to me?”
I looked her right in the face so she wouldn’t miss it this time. “Piss. Off.”
As they left my mouth, I knew there was a strong chance those rude words would be my last, but it felt so good to finally tell one of these power-mad tyrants where to shove it. The shocked fury on White Snake’s face was definitely worth the risk so far. I was telling myself to enjoy it thoroughly just in case it was the last thing I saw when a hand landed on my shoulder.
I jumped even higher this time. I’d been so focused on the dragon in front of me that I hadn’t noticed the one sneaking in from the side. This felt ridiculous, because even my feeble mortal senses could tell that the newcomer was much bigger. He was ridiculously tall and pretty even for a dragon, with his sharp cheekbones, light bronzed skin, bright-green eyes, and straight black hair even longer than my father’s, which he wore in a messy bun held in place by paintbrushes, many of which still had fresh paint on them. He was dressed equally haphazardly in an untucked white tuxedo shirt, paint-covered jeans so old they’d turned white, and a pair of leather moccasins that looked like they’d been made by actual Native Americans from before the white man’s invasion.
And if all that wasn’t strange enough, there was a pigeon on his shoulder. Not a turtledove or some other genteel variety, but the same gray city pigeon you normally saw eating dropped french fries off the street. It was nesting happily in the dragon’s long hair, turning its rainbow-sheened head from side to side to look at me with each of its beady, black eyes as the dragon sat down next to me like we were old friends.
“I’m sorry,” I said after a long, awkward silence. “Do I know you?”
“Not a bit,” the new dragon assured me, pointing a paint-stained finger at White Snake. “But she does.”
White Snake looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She’d already backed away from us, but when the dragon called her out, she jumped like a frightened mouse. It was shocking to see. My father had always said his sister was a coward, but I’d assumed he was just being insulting. There must have been some truth to it, though, because I’d never seen a dragon act in such a blatantly undraconic fashion. White Snake knew she’d been caught out, too, because when she finally managed to look the new dragon in the eyes, her lovely face was pinched with rage and shame.
“Who gave you the right to interrupt us?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the green-eyed dragon replied, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I was unaware there was an application process.” He looked at me. “You don’t mind if I butt in, do you?”
I shook my head frantically, and the dragon turned back to White Snake with a charming smile. “See? She doesn’t mind.”
“Her opinion is not important,” White Snake snarled. “I am—”
“A guest in my little brother’s home, I know,” the new dragon replied. “And so soon to be leaving us, alas! I’m sure I will be heartbroken by the loss of your company as soon as someone reminds me who you are.”
In any other situation, I would have laughed out loud at that. But even in my current state of near-suicidal recklessness, I didn’t dare laugh at White Snake now. Her face was red and blotchy with fury, and there was black smoke pouring from her nose and mouth. The dragon sitting next to me might have been able to weather that fire, but I’d be burned to a cinder if she decided to let loose. Terrifying as she was to behold, though, the balance of power had already shifted, because for all her smoke, White Snake was the one who dropped her eyes first, retreating to the hallway where her mortal entourage had already run for cover. She cast me a final nasty look over her shoulder, but all the parting threats I’m sure she would have loved to lob at me were cut short by a raised eyebrow from the dragon next to me. After that, she gave up all pretense and fled, striding away down the beige corridor at a speed mortals would have considered a flat-out run.
When she was gone, I turned to my unexpected savior with a bow. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” the strange dragon said, patting me on the head like a dog. “I was just down here to buy some sunflower seeds for my lady love”—he stroked the pigeon on his shoulder, who cooed happily—“when I saw your predicament and decided to have some fun at someone else’s expense.”
I stared at him in horror. “You—you mean you weren’t sent to save me?”
“Sorry to bruise your ego, but I’m not actually entirely sure who you are,” the dragon said cheerfully. “I was just cutting through because the vending machine in the employee lounge next door is the only one in the building that sells the right brand of sunflower seeds. I keep telling my brother to stock more, but he’s all ‘Bob, you are the greatest, most powerful, most handsome dragon in the world! Go buy your own sunflower seeds!’ Can you believe it?”
I could not, but not for reasons that had anything to do with sunflower seeds or snack machines. I’d finally realized which dragon I was talking to, and I was no longer sure it was a good thing he’d chased off White Snake. At least I’d known how she would act. This dragon was something altogether more terrifying, because between the pigeon and the stupid nickname he’d just let slip, I now knew that I was sitting beside Brohomir, eldest son of the Heartstriker dragon clan and one of only three dragon seers left in the world. He was also the Peacemaker’s brother and rumored to be stark raving mad. Rumors I now definitely believed.
“Well,” I said, scooting down the sofa. “Thank you so much for the save. I don’t want to take up any more of your extremely valuable time, so why don’t you go ahead and get those sunflower seeds? Your lady, who is very beautiful by the way, looks, um, hungry.”
“My consort is quite peckish,” the Great Brohomir said, wiggling his dark eyebrows. “But you’re surprisingly polite for a lesser creature.” His face lit up in a beatific smile. “You should come with us!”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I said quickly, waving my hands. “I
wouldn’t want to be a third wheel, and I’m waiting for an appointment with a—”
“Nonsense,” Bob said, wrapping a long arm around my shoulder and lifting me physically off the couch. “It doesn’t take a seer to see where you need to go. I could smell that curse on you from three floors away. What in the world did you do to make Yong so mad? The Dragon of Korea normally loves mortals. Seriously, last I heard, he had two hundred of you death-bound critters scampering around his lair! That’s the dragon equivalent of being a crazy cat lady, you know.”
I laughed nervously, frantically scrambling to figure out how I was going to escape this horrifying new situation I’d landed in. Dammit, I should have known better than to go to the Peacemaker for help! Dragons always made things worse. Now I was probably going to end up being fed to this cheerful lunatic’s pigeon girlfriend.
“At least he’s taking us up the ranks,” Sibyl whispered in my ear as we got on the elevator.
Brohomir did indeed hit the button for a very high floor. The elevator shot up at a terrifying speed, making my stomach flip-flop as we rocketed toward the top of the building. Finally, the elevator slowed, and the doors opened to reveal a beautiful hallway that was worlds apart from the drab, fluorescent-lit rooms downstairs. Here, at last, the Dragon Consulate was the proper level of opulent. There were soaring windows looking out over the ever-shifting DFZ skyline, a lovely polished marble floor with real fossils inside each slab, and wood-paneled walls covered in a staggeringly lovely series of Chinese watercolor paintings of dragons in flight from an artist I didn’t recognize, which was the biggest shock of all. My dad had taught me to recognize every major painter in China from the last two thousand years on sight. How was it possible I’d missed someone this good? I was still puzzling over it when Brohomir shoved me out of the elevator.