One Good Dragon Deserves Another

by Rachel Aaron

  His sister rolled her eyes. “So we should forgive and forget? Cuddle up to Mommy until she stabs us in the back again?”

  Julius shook his head. “Just because I don’t want to kill her doesn’t mean I want to keep her as my clan head.”

  “So you’re saying we should dethrone her and make Amelia the Heartstriker?” Conrad said. “Sounds good to me. I’ve been saying as much for years.”

  “And you can keep saying it,” Amelia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I refuse. I’m not touching this crazy bin with a ten-foot pole. Go find another chump.”

  Conrad opened his mouth to argue, but Julius beat him to it. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  All the dragons looked at him, and he bit his lip, trying to think of how best to explain this. “The Heartstrikers are one of the most hated clans in the world,” he said at last. “Mother claims that’s because we’re strong and the other clans envy us, but she’s wrong. We have enemies because she made them, and if we’re strong, it’s in spite of that. But has it ever occurred to any of you how much stronger we could be if we stopped making enemies and started making alliances?”

  “Impossible,” Chelsie scoffed. “No one would respect a clan head who did nothing but roll over.”

  “Working together isn’t the same as rolling over,” Julius reminded her. “But you’re partially right. The other clans wouldn’t respect a dragon who didn’t follow the apex predator script. But if we changed the game on them entirely? What if we didn’t have a clan head at all?”

  Now the others just looked confused. “How would that work?” Justin growled.

  “Pretty well, I bet,” Julius said. “Think about it. What if, instead of a single-dragon dictatorship, we actually talked about what we want this clan to be and then worked together to get there?”

  He finished with a hopeful smile, but his siblings were staring at him like he’d just suggested they adopt the tutu as their clan uniform.

  “Julius,” Amelia said at last. “Have you met our siblings? ‘Working together’ isn’t part of their vocabulary.”

  “Amelia’s right,” Chelsie said. “Without a bigger dragon keeping them in line, Heartstriker would tear itself apart.”

  “Maybe as we are,” Julius said firmly. “But that’s because, as things stand now, the only way up the ladder is through another dragon. That kind of violence and infighting is inherently wasteful, and if there’s anything ambitious dragons love, it’s a better way to get to the top. I’m not saying it would be easy, but if we came up with a new clan structure, something that let all of us pool our efforts and resources together instead of wasting them on cutting each other down, I think you’d be surprised how fast Heartstriker would come around. I mean, we’re already the biggest dragon clan in recorded history. If we stopped fighting for a clan head’s favor and put all that energy toward actually getting what we want instead, we could rule the world.”

  Julius wasn’t actually terribly interested in ruling the world, but he knew the idea would appeal to everyone else. And so far, it seemed to be working. Justin certainly seemed to like the idea of Heartstriker ruling the world, and even Chelsie didn’t look as blatantly skeptical anymore. “If we agreed to this nonsense,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “How would it work? If a clan doesn’t have a head, how does it even run?”

  “We could form a council,” Julius said. “Humans do it all the time. It might not be as efficient as a clan head, but if we had a group that we could elect and replace, we’d at least guarantee that Heartstriker is run according to what we actually want instead of according to the whims of a single dragon.”

  “How very egalitarian of you,” Amelia said. “But seriously, have you ever tried to get a group of dragons to come to a consensus? I’d call it herding cats, but cats usually don’t try to kill you when they don’t get their way.”

  “It can’t be any worse than being used as pawns by our mother,” Julius countered. “At least with a council, if someone wants to throw one of us away for power, there’ll have to be a discussion about it, first. That’s miles better than what we’ve got now, so why not try? Unless you want to be Heartstriker.”

  Amelia grimaced. “Point taken.”

  “Well, I think it’s a stupid idea,” Justin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’d be the only clan in the world without a clan head. Any proper dragon family would see us as a bunch of leaderless animals wasting time before we collapse into anarchy. We’d never be taken seriously again. Why, without Bethesda, we wouldn’t even be Heartstrikers.”

  Bethesda flashed her favorite son a warm smile, but Julius refused to back down. “So long as this is our clan, we’ll always be Heartstrikers,” he said. “And if the others don’t take us seriously at first, they’ll learn to when they realize that we’re not leaderless. We’re an entire clan acting together as one. That’s way more powerful than any single dragon could ever be, and if there’s anything the dragon clans respect, it’s power. That said, though, I actually think that Bethesda should be the first member of our council.”

  “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Chelsie growled.

  “Just the opposite,” Julius said. “Having a powerful, established dragon like her on board would give our new council legitimacy. Besides, Justin’s right. She is the Heartstriker, and while I don’t want her ruling me with an iron claw anymore, I do think she deserves a seat at the table in deciding the fate of her own clan.”

  “As if I’d take it,” Bethesda sneered. “Share my power with my own ungrateful children? Be forced to vote on decisions that should be mine by right?” She turned up her nose. “I’d rather die.”

  “That can still be arranged.”

  Julius jumped. Bob had been so quiet through all of this, Julius had actually forgotten the seer was there. Now, though, Bob pushed his way forward, taking Julius’s place in front of their mother with a smile every bit as ruthless as anything the Heartstriker had worn.

  “Showing your true colors at last, I see,” Bethesda said, glaring up at her oldest surviving son. “I always suspected Julius, but I never thought you would betray me, Brohomir.”

  “And that’s the only reason it worked,” Bob replied. “You were a useful tool, Mother, but the world is changing, and the old ways are no longer enough. You took us as far as you could, but if Heartstriker is to become the power I need it to be, we all have to adapt. Even you.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she growled. “You can’t actually think I would give up my clan, the title I killed for, to become a passenger in this idiot’s plot?”

  Her eyes darted to Julius, who shifted uncomfortably, but Bob laid a hand on his shoulder. “I do,” Bob said. “Because our clan is no longer yours to lose.”

  She looked appalled by that, but Bob just kept going. “Tonight, my littlest brother saved your life twice over. Once from Estella, and once, just now, from your own children. But even though you live, you’ve lost. You are on your knees, defeated and sealed, watching helpless as your children divvy up your clan.” His eyes narrowed. “You know how this ends, Bethesda. You know, because you were once in our position yourself. This clan will march on with or without you, so unless you want me to carry on the family tradition and show you the same courtesy you showed your father, I suggest you accept what Julius has so generously offered. A seat on his council might not be the future you wanted, but at this point, it’s the only one you’re going to get. So what will it be, Mother? Will you die for your pride? Or will you act like a real dragon and take your power where you find it?”

  Bethesda took a shuddering breath, her frozen body straining against the magic of Julius’s Fang that held her in place. And then, slowly, the fight drained out of her. With his hand wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword, Julius could actually feel the moment his mother gave up. The Fang’s magic released her a few seconds later, and she slumped forward, landing on her hands. She rested there for a moment, and then she ros
e to her feet, reaching up to straighten her skewed golden headdress.

  “I never was one to take nothing over something,” she said with as much dignity as she could manage. “I accept your compromise.”

  “Excellent!” Bob said, his voice bright and cheery again as he pulled an elaborately folded square of expensive looking paper out of his pocket. “Council it is, then! I’ve got the paperwork all drawn up.”

  “Wait,” Julius said, almost too shocked to speak. “How is that even possible? I only came up with the idea a few minutes ago. We haven’t even discussed what a Heartstriker Council would look like yet. How can you possibly have paperwork already?”

  “Because I am the handsome, powerful, charismatic, and all-knowing seer of the Heartstrikers,” Bob reminded him with curt look. “Honestly, Julius, you act like Estella was the only one with an end game on the board. As you just pointed out, this entire thing was your idea, and have I not continually said that your future was the only one I could always see?”

  “Oh,” Julius said, his face heating. “Right.”

  “Now this is just the initial agreement,” Bob said, unfolding the paper to reveal a beautifully handwritten contract the size of a movie poster. “Parameters for the transference of Bethesda’s power, how the council will be formed, and so forth. There’s a lot more details to hammer out, but I only had one piece of paper with me, so I figured we’d figure the rest out later when we had a council to argue about it.”

  Chelsie arched an eyebrow at the giant, densely written contract that fell from Bob’s fingers all the way to the floor. “That’s your start?”

  “I was trying to be thorough,” Bob said, pouting. “Though I do admit the calligraphy is a bit much, but it was a very long flight from the DFZ to China, and I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. It’s not every day we get to completely redefine the idea of what a dragon clan is.”

  He spread the unfurled contract out over the cracked seat of Bethesda’s throne, and all the Heartstrikers crowded in to read. But while Bob hadn’t been kidding about going overboard on the calligraphic flourishes, the contract itself, while extremely overwritten, boiled down to three key points. First, it destroyed the position of clan head, preventing Bethesda or any other Heartstriker from seizing absolute control of the clan ever again. This, by extension, also removed Amelia’s position as heir, which made her very happy. Second, Bob’s contract outlined the formation of a council with an unspecified odd number of voting seats (to prevent deadlocks) that would take over all the responsibilities and powers that had previously belonged to Bethesda, including declaring war, forming alliances with other clans, creating and enforcing rules for acceptable behavior within the family, and so forth. Thirdly, it ordered that, with the exception of Bethesda herself, the council seats should be equally divided between Heartstrikers with Fangs and Heartstrikers without, both to be decided by a clan vote.

  “I like the voting part,” Julius said. “But why divide things by Fangs?”

  “Because we need them,” Bob replied, patting his own sword. “The Fangs have always been symbols of Heartstriker’s power. A council that didn’t include them wouldn’t be respected within the family, let alone by outsiders, but a council that was nothing but Fangs would be seen as Bethesda’s puppets. A fifty-fifty split felt like a good compromise. That way, we always guarantee there will be at least one heavy hitter and one seat open to the ambitions of the clan at large. By dividing the power in half, we ensure that we have two sides who can both work together to gang up on Bethesda.”

  This observation raised a growl from their mother, which everyone ignored.

  “I also set a term limit of five years on elected seats,” Bob went on, pointing at a particularly florid paragraph toward the bottom. “That way, there’s never more than a half decade’s wait between chances to seize power, which is vital if you want to avoid assassinations.”

  “And we definitely want to do that,” Julius said, reading the paragraph Bob had indicated. “But, not counting Mother’s, there are only five Fangs total. If there’s a five year term limit, then only two dragons who have Fangs can sit on the council at any given time without being in violation. Add that to what you just said about the fifty-fifty split, and we’ve only got five Heartstrikers on the council—two with Fangs, two without, and Mother.”

  Bob shrugged. “How is that a problem? Small councils make faster decisions.”

  “You can go ahead and count me out,” Chelsie said, crossing her arms.

  “Why?” Julius asked, alarmed. “Don’t you like the idea of a council?”

  “I like it fine,” Chelsie said. “But I’m bound to Bethesda, remember? If I sit on that thing, all I’m going to do there is give her another vote, and I refuse.”

  “Thank you for that, dear,” Bethesda snarled. “I’ll be sure to keep your opinion in mind later.”

  There was a world of implied consequences in those words, but they seemed to roll off Chelsie’s back. Julius, on the other hand, was starting to get nervous.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to Amelia. “What about you? I know the contract says Fangs, but I don’t think anyone would object to—”

  “No thanks,” Amelia said, cutting him off. “Now that I can stay on this plane without worrying about my mother constantly trying to kill me, my schedule is full. Don’t get me wrong, I wish you crazy kids all the luck in the world with your alternative forms of government, but I’ve got much bigger targets on my radar than Heartstriker.”

  “Count me out as well,” Conrad said. “I’m a knight, not a bureaucrat. I want the clan to be strong and secure. Other than that, I have no interest in how it’s run.”

  “If Conrad’s out, then so am I,” Justin said, puffing out his chest. “I’m a knight, too. I’m supposed to be out there fighting duels and expanding our reputation, not sitting around in meetings listening to Julius talk.”

  “Oh come on!” Julius cried. “You can’t leave all of this to me and Bob!”

  “Actually, I’m afraid I have to bow out as well,” Bob said apologetically.

  Julius whirled around to face him. “Why?”

  Bob arched an eyebrow. “Because I’m the Great Seer of the Heartstrikers. I’ve already seen how I’d do on the council, and, trust me, it’s a hot mess. Everyone will be constantly accusing me of manipulating the votes—which of course I will be whether I’m on the council or not—but that’s a kettle of seers we do not want to open. No, I’ve seen how this shakes out, and we’re all far better off when I stay behind the curtain. Plus, Justin’s right. Meetings are boring.”

  Julius couldn’t believe this was happening. “You can’t all refuse! That just leaves me.” Alone. On a council with Bethesda and one other Heartstriker, making decisions that would decide the entire clan’s fate. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing it.”

  “But you have to do it,” Bob said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “This was your idea, Julius. If you refuse, then your council will fizzle before it begins.”

  Julius shot a terrified look at Bethesda, who was already eying him like he was a lost lamb. “I’m not sitting alone on a council with Mother,” he hissed at Bob. “My heart can’t take it.”

  “You give your heart too little credit,” Bob said. “Remember, you hold the current family record for standing up to Bethesda. The rest of us were smart and learned our lessons the first time, but you’ve done it twice! That’s the sort of borderline self-destructive dedication we need if we’re going to make this thing work.”

  “You’re not making me feel better,” Julius said, shoulders slumping.

  “I wasn’t trying to,” Bob said sternly. “I’m here to tell you the truth, not coddle you, and the truth is that you’re the only one who can do this. We’re about to attempt reforming an entire dragon clan. Changes like that don’t stick with the same-old, same-old in power. If we’re really going to make this thing work, we need a dragon who doesn’t think like a dragon. So
meone who can handle Bethesda and the rest of us without resorting to the kind of power games that got us into this mess. Someone who’s seen the consequences of the path we’re on and actually wants to change it. We need you.” He grinned. “We always have. I keep telling you I didn’t pick you at random. This moment is the result of years of work. You can’t throw all that away now. And besides, it’s not like you’ll be alone with Mother. According to the rules, you’ll have at least one other, non-Fang-holding member of the family to help you along.”

  Julius did not consider a random member of his family to be a “help,” especially not one ambitious enough to get chosen as the final member on a three dragon council. But while he was still terrified and more than a little furious about having all of this dumped on him, Bob was right. This was his idea, and he desperately wanted it to work. He’d hated the way dragon clans worked his whole life. He and Katya and Chelsie and Justin and pretty much every dragon he called friend had all suffered in one way or another under the system that let clan heads like Bethesda and Estella be tyrants. Now, he had a chance to change all of that for the Heartstrikers, bloodlessly, with the help and support of the top members of his family. That really was a once in a dragon lifetime opportunity, and certain as Julius was that this was going to suck epically for him for years to come, he couldn’t let that pass him by.

  “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll do it.”

  “I knew you would,” Bob replied, producing an old-fashioned inkwell and a suspiciously large, painfully beautiful, peacock blue feather quill from somewhere in his pockets before turning to their mother. “You first.”

  Bethesda shot him a dirty look, but she didn’t argue. She just reached up and jabbed one of her sharp nails into the soft flesh of her inner arm, holding it out so Bob could collect the bright red blood in the inkwell. When they had collected enough, Bethesda took the feather, which Julius strongly suspected was one of Bob’s own, and dipped the tip of the quill into the blood, tapping the excess off neatly before leaning down to sign her name in a recalcitrant scrawl.