by Rachel Aaron
Emily didn’t waste time after that. The moment the Leviathan hid them from Algonquin, she turned on Myron, opening her mouth in a last attempt to reason with him, but it was no use. Without Raven’s name to give her control, her body wouldn’t obey. All she could do was gasp silently as he set her down on the wet stone at his feet.
“Stop it,” he ordered, holding her still with his foot as he reached up to adjust the floodlights. “It’s over, Emily. This will be a lot easier on both of us if you don’t fight.”
Her answer to that was to spit at him, or at least try to. She was still trying to get her mouth to work when he knelt beside her again, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“Be still and listen,” he ordered, pressing her down until she stopped twitching. “I know how this looks, but I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t the only way. Algonquin’s right. The Mortal Spirits are rising. Marci Novalli’s cat was just the first, and you saw what a terror he was. The others will be worse. If we don’t get control of this situation, the spirits of the land won’t be the only ones in trouble. Trust me, Emily. This is for the best. I might not have come to it in the usual way, but I’ll be the Merlin this world needs. I swear it.”
Since she couldn’t speak to tell him what a load of bull that was, Emily looked away, clenching her teeth as Myron placed his hand inside the hole Raven’s absence had left in her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Brace yourself. This will probably hurt.”
She was trying to get enough control for one final rude gesture when Myron’s maze of magic pulled tight, yanking every line of her spellwork with it until the world went white with pain.
Chapter 5
“I don’t like this,” Julius muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Congratulations,” said Bethesda, tossing back the last of her cognac as her body sank lower into the pile of gold she was using as a makeshift couch. “We’ve finally found something we can agree on.”
Julius’s answer to that was a long sigh. It had been four hours since the Golden Emperor and his court had accepted Julius’s offer to stay at the mountain until Ian returned. When he’d suggested the idea, he’d assumed everyone understood this meant the Chinese dragons would be their guests, but the Golden Empire must have had a different definition of the word “hospitality.” The moment she’d gotten inside, the Empress Mother had taken over, directing her dragons to spread out and occupy every abandoned inch of the Heartstriker’s ancient fortress.
It wasn’t just a draconic effort, either. The emperor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d brought his own things. Not ten minutes after Julius invited them in, planes full of supplies, furniture, and human servants had begun arriving, crowding the airstrip and filling the once-empty mountain to bursting again. But while the new influx had at least fixed their staffing problem—particularly in the kitchens, which were now working overtime to feed a mountain full of dragons—the Heartstrikers were not included.
While the Chinese court had made themselves at home, taking over the rooms normally reserved for upper-alphabet Heartstrikers, including, to Bethesda’s great upset, the throne room and her apartments, which had now been claimed as the personal quarters of the Qilin and his mother, their “hosts” had been pushed further and further down. The guest rooms, the human staff wing, the garage—all were apparently vital to assuring the emperor’s comfort. In the end, the only part of the mountain their “guests” didn’t require were the overflow vaults in the storage sub-basement, which was how Julius found himself sitting with his mother and Fredrick on top of the piles of gold that had once been the Heartstriker’s treasury.
“At least my gold is safe,” Bethesda said for the thousandth time. “I stayed up all night making what was left of the staff move it down here so it would be well guarded while we were on the run. Never thought I’d be locked down here with it, of course, but at least we’re together.” She ran her hands lovingly over the yellow coins before refilling her drink from the only bottle from her private liquor cache Amelia hadn’t polished off. “Here’s to forethought.”
“You should have had the forethought to check your informants,” Fredrick growled, pacing the clear spot in front of the vault door as he’d been doing for the last hour. “An entire dragon clan flew across half the world to invade us, and we were still caught unawares. Gold can’t fix that.”
“We were invaded by the living embodiment of good fortune,” Bethesda said with a shrug. “If I had his luck, no one would see me coming, either. And why are you yelling at me? Julius is clan head now, too. That makes this debacle his fault as much as mine, but I don’t see you snipping at him.” She finished her drink in a single gulp. “And for the record, gold helps everything. We might be trapped now, but Heartstriker is still a rich and powerful clan. Just you wait until Conrad, Justin, and the others are in position. We will rain down vengeance on the Golden Emperor like he’s never seen! Let’s see him luck his way out of that.”
She cackled at the thought, and Julius sighed again. Part of him was terrified by her words. An open clan war was the worst of all possible outcomes. But the cynic in him saw his mother’s behavior for what it was: the drunken ravings of a desperate dragon who was utterly and thoroughly trapped. They all were. This delay had been his idea, but Julius was all too aware that Heartstriker was already conquered in all but name. The fact that they were locked in the basement of their own fortress was just the icing on the cake.
His hope now—his only hope—was to find a loophole in the surrender agreement. An angle, an outside case, something the Chinese dragons hadn’t considered that he could exploit to buy Heartstriker a way out of this that didn’t involve giving up or starting a war. Because there would be a war. Julius wasn’t sure about the rest of his family, but Justin would fight any foreign rule to the death. The same went for Conrad, and if the knights fought, others would join, which meant a lot of dragons he cared about would die. They could all die if he didn’t figure out a plan to fix this, but despite having read it ten times now, the surrender agreement the emperor’s aide had given them still didn’t make sense to him.
“I don’t like this.”
“So you keep saying,” his mother drawled.
“Because it keeps being true,” Julius growled, smacking the scroll in his hands. “This surrender doesn’t make any sense! Why are they being so nice to us?”
Bethesda choked on her cognac. “That’s what you take issue with?” she sputtered. “They’re too nice? I thought that was your entire shtick.”
“Not when it’s suspicious! The Golden Emperor has us over a barrel. He has zero reason to give us any concessions, but these terms read like a love letter. Listen to this.”
He unraveled the scroll, sliding the elegant paper between his fingers until he reached the English translation of the Chinese text. “The introduction is exactly what you’d expect: unconditional surrender, weakness of our clan before the emperor’s might, and so on. After that, though, it goes off the rails. The first ‘demand’”—he lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“is that once we’re conquered, Heartstriker will retain the right to self-rule and join the Golden Empire as one of its clans. We also keep control of all our territories, assets, and businesses. He’s not even charging us taxes for the first hundred years.”
“Really?” Bethesda scowled thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s wonderful,” Julius agreed. “That’s the problem. They invaded us knowing we couldn’t fight back, but this surrender is written like they’re afraid we’ll say no. Why? They made it abundantly clear this morning how much they hate our clan and you personally, but there’s not even a mention of you stepping down.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. We’re under their boot. They should be demanding heads on spikes, not giving us sweetheart deals.”
“I’d demand heads on spikes,” Bethesda said wistfully. “But while I’m sure the Empress Mother dreams of stuffi
ng me for display, the Qilin’s always been odd. They don’t call him benevolent for nothing. With luck like his, he can afford to be.”
“This goes way beyond benevolence,” Julius said. “This is insanity. There’s no fealty requirement, no demands for changes to our clan structure, no land grabs or tribute. Other than accepting him as our ruler and joining his empire, he’s literally asking for nothing. If I’m reading this part about imperial funds distribution correctly, we might even make money off this deal, and that just makes no sense to me. Why bother conquering us at all if he isn’t going to get anything out of it? Why is he being so nice?”
“If I were less depressed, the hypocrisy of hearing you say that would make my day,” his mother said. “But loath as I am to admit you’re right about anything, what does it matter? Like you just said, we can’t turn him down. I fully intend to rally our clan and make those Chinese snakes rue the day they set foot in our desert, but unless I can do it by tomorrow morning, we’re going to have to bow our heads and take his offer. If the emperor wants to be overly generous about it, why should we stop him? It’ll just make our inevitable rebellion that much easier.”
“Because I don’t want to rebel,” Julius said angrily. “I don’t want to surrender at all, especially not if it means signing something that is so obviously a trap.”
“Maybe it’s not,” she said. “I just watched you read that contract ten times over, and it’s not as though you don’t know how to read between the lines. I had to sit through six hours of your legal nitpicking just yesterday, if you’ll recall.” She shrugged. “If you can’t find the poison in that apple, maybe it’s not there.”
“But it has to be,” he said, staring at the paper. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Why would he go through all the trouble of conquering Heartstriker if he doesn’t actually want to conquer Heartstriker?”
“Who cares what he wants?” Bethesda snapped, sitting up at last. “If he wants to piss away his chance to crush us, why are you fighting it? You’re a clan head of Heartstriker now. You need to think about what’s best for us.” She waved her glass at the contract in his hands. “If he’s going to be a fool about this, we should take full advantage. I say sign ourselves over and leverage the bastard’s luck for all he’s worth. It’ll give Algonquin a new target if nothing else. While they’re duking it out, we’ll use all the space he’s left us to rebuild our power so we’re ready to stab him in the back as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”
That was a suitably draconic plan. Julius didn’t even have any particular moral compunction against betraying the dragons who’d forced them to join in the first place. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on here. He’d heard the cold disdain in the Qilin’s magnificent voice. Dragons like that didn’t conquer clans just to shower them in kindness. He was here for a reason, and if that reason wasn’t actually the conquest of the Heartstriker clan, then there was still a chance Julius could find a way out of this without any bowing or backstabbing.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” he said, standing up.
Bethesda slumped back down to her gold. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“I got it from my mother.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not going to talk to you.”
“We don’t know that until I try,” Julius said, grabbing his Fang from the gold pile where he’d set it down and fastening the sword to his belt. “But I have to do something. I don’t care how good the terms are. I didn’t work this hard just to turn around and hand Heartstriker over to someone else. I stalled this for a day. I’m going to use it. It’s not like we’ll be any more conquered if I fail.”
“Don’t count on that,” Bethesda warned. “As I’ve learned the hard way these last two weeks, things can always get worse. But I’ve also learned there’s no point in trying to stop you from doing stupid things, so knock yourself out. If you need me, I’ll be here plotting our revenge.”
She rolled over, putting her back to him as she sprawled her human body across the gold coins the way she used to as a dragon. Julius shook his head at her one last time and turned to go, but as he reached for the door, Fredrick grabbed his arm.
“Not you too,” Julius muttered.
“You misunderstand,” the F said, his voice oddly quiet. “I’m not trying to keep you from seeking an audience with the Qilin. I actually think that’s an excellent idea, but you can’t leave yet.”
“Why not?”
Fredrick cast a worried look at the metal door. “Because we have a visitor.”
Julius was opening his mouth to ask who in the world would visit them now when the vault door of the overflow treasury swung open to reveal a very tall, very not Heartstriker dragon. He looked regal in a long black silk robe that looked like it had been stolen from the set of a Chinese period drama. But though his human form was clearly modeled after mortals of Han Chinese descent, he wasn’t one of the Golden Emperor’s dragons.
Julius knew that last bit for a fact, because he’d seen this dragon before. It was the third seer, the one who’d been with Bob the night he’d killed Estella. The Black Reach.
“Hello, Julius Heartstriker,” he said, flashing him a smile that didn’t touch his silvery eyes. “I was hoping we might have a word.”
“Okay,” Julius said, shooting a nervous look at Fredrick, who didn’t look any happier. “Now?”
“Now would be best,” the Black Reach said, stepping back into the hallway.
Julius stayed put. Technically, he supposed being singled out by the world’s oldest and greatest seer was an honor, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to speak with the Black Reach, and not because he was actually Dragon Sees Eternity, the construct tasked with overseeing the future of all dragons. That actually inclined Julius to like him since his brother, Dragon Sees the Beginning, had been so helpful to him and Marci. He didn’t want to talk because the Black Reach was the dragon Bob had claimed was destined to kill him, and as mad as he was at his brother right now, Julius would never want anything to do with that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, backing up. “But I don’t think I have time. I need to go talk to the emperor before—”
“This will only take a moment,” the Black Reach promised, folding his hands behind his back. “It’s about your brother.”
Julius had a lot of brothers, but he didn’t think the Black Reach was here to talk about Justin. “You know where Bob is?”
“I know where he will be,” the seer replied. “More than that I can’t say in company.”
He looked pointedly at Fredrick, and Julius ground his teeth. He didn’t want to play this game. Not only was this sudden visit almost certainly part of some long-running seer plot to close the trap around his brother, but he didn’t have time. The day of grace he’d connived to buy them was already half over. He couldn’t afford to waste more of it in the quagmire that was talking to a seer. That said, this might be his only shot at finding out where Bob was, maybe even what he was planning. After all, if anyone knew what Bob was up to, it would be the Black Reach. If that was true, though, why was he here? What information did the construct of the future need from Julius that he couldn’t see for himself?
He had no idea. As always, though, trying to think his way through all the angles of seer logic did nothing but give him a splitting headache. There were simply too many variables, too much he didn’t know to make the call on whether going along with this was a bad idea or a good one. But anxious as he was to get away from the seer and up to the emperor, the need to know outweighed everything else. Even knowing this was likely all part of a plot to trap his brother, Julius couldn’t pass up what might be his only chance to find out what Bob was doing. So, with a deep breath, he stepped out into the hall, motioning for the Black Reach to follow him down the corridor.
***
The storage complex in the basement of Heartstriker Mountain was a properly draconic warren.
Most of the tunnels led to vaults like the one his mother had taken over for her gold, but there were also plenty of smaller, normal rooms for spare furniture, out-of-season linens, holiday supplies, and whatever else housekeeping needed stuffed into closets. Since he didn’t share his mother’s love of sleeping on piles of metal, no matter how shiny, Julius had claimed one of these as his temporary room, and that was where he took the Black Reach now.
“Sorry it’s so cramped,” he said, moving Amelia’s ashes and Marci’s bag off one of the sheet-covered couches so the eldest seer could sit. “We’ve had some unexpected guests.”
The construct arched an eyebrow at the understatement but didn’t comment. He just sat down on the sofa, folding his hands in his lap like a polite guest waiting for his tea.
“So,” Julius said nervously, grabbing a spare dining chair from the stack in the corner so he’d have a seat as well. “How may I help you?”
“Actually,” the seer said. “I’m here because I believe I can help you.”
That was enough to raise every hair on Julius’s body. Nice or not, there was nothing that got a dragon’s guard up like another dragon suddenly offering to help. “Why would you do that?” he asked, turning in his seat so he could bolt for the door if necessary. “You don’t know me.”
“But I know Brohomir very well,” the Black Reach replied. “I know he has invested a great deal in you, which makes you of great interest to me.” He tilted his head. “You know what I am.”
It wasn’t a question, but Julius answered anyway. “You’re Dragon Sees Eternity, an immortal construct built by the ancient dragons from our home plane to ensure what happened there never happens again.” He smiled nervously. “My friend and I had a long talk with your brother, Dragon Sees the Beginning.”
The Black Reach nodded as though being outed as a magical amalgam from another plane were perfectly routine. “And do you know how I do that? How I guard against the mistakes that must never be repeated?”