by Rachel Aaron
“That’s what you said about the Dragon of the Sahara,” Myron said bitterly. “And we all know how that turned out.”
The raven began to sulk. “That wasn’t my fault. She has a terrible memory.”
“And you have a flexible relationship with the truth,” Emily replied. “But I think I believe you this time. At least about the Mortal Spirit.”
She looked at the mountain again, her too-sharp gaze focusing in a way no merely human eye should have been able to. “If the Mortal Spirit’s here, it must already be attached to a human, and if there’s a human in Heartstriker Mountain, they’ll have an owner.”
“Right again!” Raven cawed. “You win the prize!”
“If you’ve got time to joke, you’ve got time to work. Get back in there and find out which human we’re looking for and which dragon they belong to.”
Raven turned up his beak. “What’s the magic word?”
Emily gritted her teeth. “Please.”
“Much better,” he said, looking her in the eyes. I’m doing you the favors here, little darling, not the other way around. Don’t forget that.
“I never do,” she said. “But you’re not doing favors for me. This is for all mankind, remember?”
“So relentlessly driven,” the spirit said, shaking his head. “But that’s why I love you.” He gave her another wink before fluttering into the air. “I’m off to snoop. You kids have fun.”
Emily sighed, watching him go. When he was just a speck on the horizon, she turned and walked back into the hotel room to prepare for what was sure to be a very bumpy ride.
Chapter 3
Marci recoiled at the sudden blast of sunlight, turning her head back toward the shadowy chamber—which she could now see was a stone cave. “Where are we?”
“My room,” Amelia said, glancing over her shoulder at the giant, empty cavern behind them. “I don’t exactly spend much time at home, so I never bothered decorating. Or installing lights. But as the oldest, I was entitled to my own balcony, and you’d better believe I made Mother cough it up.” She turned back to the sunlight with a grin, fishing a pair of cat-eye sunglasses out of the V-neck of her red tank top. “Well worth the effort, wouldn’t you agree?”
It was. Once Marci’s eyes adjusted to the blinding light, she could see that Amelia’s balcony was identical to the one that jutted off the Heartstriker throne room one floor up. Even with heavy curtains covering the actual entrance, the half-moon jut of flat stone extending from the mountain’s side was still big enough for a full-sized dragon to land on comfortably, and the view of the feathered dragons flying over the sun-drenched desert below was absolutely spectacular. For Marci, though, the real treat was the banquet table that had been set up at the balcony’s center, its white-clothed expanse laden with enough food and alcohol to feed a small army.
Just looking at the beautifully arranged platters of French pastries and sandwiches protected from the sun by giant, invitingly shady umbrellas was enough to make Marci’s mouth water. She’d technically had breakfast already, but even at Heartstriker Mountain’s mortal clinic, hospital food was hospital food. It certainly didn’t hold a candle to the five-star-hotel-worthy spread in front of her. She was about to ask Amelia if it was all for them when she realized she and Amelia weren’t the only ones out here.
Beside the shaded banquet table, lounging on a folding beach chair with a frosty cocktail dangling from her fingers, was another dragon. She was wearing a white sun hat and huge movie-star-incognito-style sunglasses that covered half her face, not that it mattered. The ice-blond hair fluttering in the breeze gave her away instantly, as did the disdainful set of her porcelain lips when she turned to see who had joined her.
“Really, Planeswalker,” Svena said, her voice disgusted. “This is the ‘important human’ you left me to fetch? Julius’s hireling?”
The icy words stole all the warmth from the sunshine, and Marci instinctively darted behind Amelia for cover. “What’s she doing here?”
“I know, right?” Amelia said, laughing. “The entitled snake just showed up and demanded a drink. Didn’t even apologize for her sister crashing a plane into my face.”
“Why should I apologize for things I was forced to do without my knowledge?” Svena asked, pausing to finish her drink. “Rest assured, Heartstriker. Had I been in command of myself, you would have had much worse to deal with than mere aircraft.”
“Oh, please,” Amelia said, grabbing her own lounge chair from the stack by the door. “I think we all saw who the bigger dragon was that day.”
“You were quite the bloated hippo,” Svena replied as Amelia shook her chair out and plopped down beside her, waiting for the precise moment the other dragon got comfortable before holding out her empty glass. “Refill me.”
Amelia sighed and got back up, grabbing a pitcher of very alcoholic-smelling lemonade from the banquet table. She was pouring the contents into Svena’s cup when Marci finally found her voice again.
“Wait,” she said, looking from dragon to dragon. “You guys are just hanging out? I thought you were, like, mortal enemies or something.”
“We are,” Svena said as she carefully accepted her now very full glass. “But just because I dream of the day when the Planeswalker’s feathered head is mounted on my wall doesn’t mean we can’t be civil.”
“Relax, Marci,” Amelia said, pouring herself a drink as well before grabbing a chair for Marci. “It’s like I told you on the beach, what was it, three days ago?” She shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe it’s only been that long. Anyway, like I said, Svena and I have always been good enemies. Sure, we’ve fought hundreds of times and our clans have been at war since before I was born, but it’s not exactly easy to find someone who can carry their half of a discussion about high-level dragon magic.” She grinned at Svena. “Sometimes, you just have to suck it up and deal with a lot of snobby snow-queen drama if you want to have a decent conversation.”
“And catching Amelia sober enough to actually have a conversation is so rare, I’ve learned to jump on the chance whenever I find it,” Svena added, giving the Planeswalker a cutting look as Amelia downed her entire cup of spiked lemonade in one swig.
“What can I say?” Amelia said as she poured herself another. “Being at home makes me drink.”
“Everything makes you drink,” Svena said in disgust. “Look at you. It’s not even midmorning, and you’re already going strong.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I should attack right now on principle.”
Amelia shook her head. “Nice bluff, but I’m not buying. Even you’re not self-important enough to challenge a superior opponent while you’re preggers.”
“You’re pregnant?” Marci cried, staring at Svena, who did not look pregnant at all. “But I thought the whole mating flight thing was just a ploy.”
“It was,” Svena admitted. “But what kind of dragon would I be if I couldn’t turn my sister’s plots to my own advantage? And Ian was quite persistent. I’ve never been so delightfully pursued.”
She finished with a suggestive purr that left nothing to the imagination, causing Amelia to choke on her drink. “Could you not?” she said, wiping her mouth. “That’s my little brother you’re talking about.”
“Like you care,” Svena said with a snort. “You didn’t even know which one Ian was until I pointed him out. But I suppose I can’t blame you. If my mothers had littered like yours, I wouldn’t have time to learn all my siblings, either.”
“Starting the Broodmare jokes early, I see,” Amelia said with a roll of her eyes. “Really, Svena, you’re not even trying. But—serious talk for a moment here—why did you go through with it? I mean, this is Ian-with-an-I we’re talking about. He’s not exactly the catch of the clan.”
Svena smiled innocently. “Would you believe I was swept away in the moment?”
“Not for a second,” Amelia said. “As much as I hate to contribute to your already over-inflated ego, we both know you c
ould have any dragon in the world. Why settle for an I?”
“I did not settle,” Svena said fiercely. “And before you even suggest it, I didn’t do it for Estella, either.” She looked down at her drink. “I’ve become surprisingly…fond of Ian over our time together. He has all the famous Heartstriker charm and ambition with none of your family’s other annoying habits. There was also the matter of timing. It’s not every night one of the three dragon seers dies. The moment I woke up from Estella’s control and felt her loss, I knew I would never get a chance like this again, and Ian was right there.” She shrugged. “The choice was obvious.”
“I forgot this was happening just after Estella died,” Amelia said, a grin spreading over her face. “You clever snowflake.”
Svena preened at the praise. Marci, however, was completely lost. “What does your sister’s death have to do with a mating flight?”
The White Witch pursed her lips, clearly trying to decide if a chance to brag about her brilliance was worth replying to a mortal. But her pride in her schemes must have won over her haughtiness, because a few seconds later, she answered.
“I saw a unique opportunity,” she said, turning in her chair so she could face Marci properly. “There are always three, and only three, dragon seers alive in the world at any given time. Whenever one dies, another is born as soon as possible to preserve the balance. When I felt my sister turn to ash, I knew her replacement would be born in the very next dragon clutch, so I decided then and there to make sure the next clutch of eggs born into this world was mine.”
“In other words, she bred herself a seer,” Amelia said, raising her glass to her rival. “Gotta hand it to you, princess, those are some eyes on the prize. So when are you laying? Tomorrow?”
Svena scoffed. “Who do you think I am, Bethesda? I’m a dragon, not an egg factory. Especially since there’s no reason to rush.” She reached down to press a white hand against her flat stomach. “My information network is very good, which is why I can say with absolute certainty that I am the only expecting dragoness in the world right now. Even if your mother ran out and got herself knocked up this morning—which, for the record, wouldn’t surprise me at all—I would still have plenty of time for a proper incubation. Especially since I’m only having five.”
“You can control that?” Marci asked, finally sinking into the chair Amelia had brought her.
“Of course,” Svena said, pushing her oversized sunglasses down her nose so she could glare at Marci properly. “We’re not like you monkeys, breeding however biology demands. Just as we can control our fire, a proper dragoness maintains a firm hand on her pregnancy to ensure the best possible outcome. For me, that’s five. An unusual number, to be sure, but despite the Heartstriker’s mantra of quantity over quality, dragons born to smaller clutches are much more magically potent.” She shrugged. “It’s simple mathematics. Even I only have so much fire to give, and fewer mouths to feed makes for stronger offspring.”
“Only at the beginning,” said Amelia, who’d given up even the pretense of having a cup to refill in favor of drinking straight from the pitcher. “After a century or so, the advantage evens out.”
“I’ll take a century’s head start over having to deal with a litter of substandard children any day,” Svena said crisply. “And unlike your ridiculous mother, I have magic to lose.” She turned back to Marci. “The egg-laying process is not without its risks. It takes a phenomenal amount of fire to spark a new dragon’s life, more than even a fantastically powerful dragon such as myself can produce in a decade. That’s why, with the exception of freaks like Bethesda, whose power is egg laying, most sensible dragons clutch only once, maybe twice in their entire lives. More than that, and you risk taking so much out of yourself that you’ll never fully recover.”
“What do you mean ‘never recover’?” Marci asked. “Do you lose that magic permanently?”
“It’s more like losing potential,” Amelia explained. “Old dragons have big fires inside us. We produce a lot of magic, but no one’s infinite, and like she said, eggs take a lot. Even an old hag like Svena who’s been hoarding her power for centuries can’t take that big a hit without flinching.”
“It’s most definitely not a pleasant experience,” Svena said, giving Amelia a dirty look. “I’m less than twelve hours in, and I’m already certain I never want to do this again. That’s why I’m doing everything I can to give my children the best advantage. If I must suffer, I want to make sure I’m getting the best possible return on my investment.”
Marci had never considered motherhood from that cold, pragmatic point of view. To be honest, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Amelia, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted.
“Well, I for one can’t wait to be an auntie to your little white puffballs,” she said with drunken glee. “I’ll take them on field trips to the outer planes and teach them how not to be stuck-up ice divas. It’ll be Magic School Bus: Awesome Edition!”
“As though I’d let you near them,” Svena said with a sniff. “Between the return of magic and my own well-groomed power, this clutch has the potential to be the most powerful dragons born since my own mothers stopped. Add to that the fact that one of my daughters will be the next seer, and I’m breeding the foundation of a new dynasty the likes of which this world has never seen.” She grinned wide, her blue eyes flashing in anticipation. “A proper clan, run by dragons who understand what it takes to win. I will teach my children to love and fear me, and when your overgrown family inevitably crumbles under its own weight or whatever ridiculousness that tiny J is planning, Ian will make sure that we are in position to take over the failing Heartstriker empire as well.” Her grin turned smug. “We’ll see how your attitude improves when I am your clan head, Planeswalker.”
“I wouldn’t make too many grand plans just yet,” Amelia cautioned. “Remember, Ian still has to actually win his seat on the Council. He’s running against David. That’s hardly a shoo-in.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Svena said. “One of the very first things that attracted me to Ian was his talent for seizing power wherever he finds it. Take last night, for example. All I had to do was loosen Bethesda’s hold on him, and he took off running.” She sighed delightedly. “He’s so ambitious.”
“Please don’t sigh like a teenager about my little brother,” Amelia said with a grimace. “But while we’re on the topic, I’ve been meaning to ask: how did you break Bethesda’s green eyes? Because I’ve been working on it forever.”
“Really?” Svena said innocently. “How surprising. I found it quite easy. But then, even the most complicated curses are simple for those of us who actually take the time to learn finesse. I imagine unraveling such a delicate puzzle would be nearly impossible for a sloppy, brute-force mage such as yourself.”
Amelia heaved an enormous sigh. “Okay, okay, I admit it. You are slightly better at technical spells than I am. But that’s only because I’ve been out doing something with my life instead of sitting around practicing insanely complicated magic in the basement of my mothers’ glacier. In this one very specific case, you are superior, so please, Great Svena, enlighten me. How’d you do it?”
Svena lounged back in her chair, tapping her lips with one perfectly filed nail as she thought Amelia’s request over. “Mmmmm…no.”
“No?” Amelia cried. “Don’t you want to brag?”
“I don’t have to,” Svena said. “You already admitted I was superior.”
Amelia cursed under her breath. “Fine, let’s just cut to the chase. What do I have to pay to get you to tell me what you did?”
The white dragon shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Amelia repeated incredulously. “So you’re saying there is nothing I own, nothing from a lifetime’s worth of planar acquisitions, that could convince you to share this one simple secret. Nothing at all of mine that you want?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Svena said settling more comfortably into he
r chair with an absurdly self-satisfied smile. “We have been enemies for a very long time now, Amelia the Planeswalker, and I can think of absolutely nothing—no treasure, no power, no lands or favors—that would give me more delight than possessing something you want and not giving it to you.”
By the time she finished, Amelia was growling low in her chest. “See, this is why we’re not actually friends.”
Svena shrugged. “A loss, I’m sure. But I’m still not telling.”
“What if I begged?”
Now she just looked insulted. “Begging requires pride to have meaning, and we both know you have none of that.”
Amelia scoffed. “I have no pride?”
“None,” Svena said solemnly, shaking her head. “I know you, Amelia. You’re a horrible braggart with a completely unfounded sky-high opinion of herself. But for all your pretense at ego, when push comes to shove, you’ve always been a practical, conniving, manipulative little snake who’d happily crawl through the mud on her belly if that’s what was needed to achieve her goals. Honestly, it’s your only redeeming quality, but knowing that you’d beg for anything completely sucks the joy out of making you do it now.”
Amelia sighed, blowing out a long line of black smoke. “So you’re not going to tell me?”
Svena shook her head. “But I’ve always enjoyed seeing you desperate, so feel free to keep asking.”
“Like I’d give you the satisfaction,” Amelia snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know how you did it. Now that you’ve proven it can be done, I’ll just figure the rest out myself.”
“Good luck with that,” Svena said, glancing up at the sun. “Not to cut this delightful conversation short, but I need to get going. Ian said they’re holding the vote this evening, and I’d like to be well rested when he steps up to claim his place at the top of your clan.” She glanced at Marci. “Can we eat the human now?”
