by Rachel Aaron
Julius nodded nervously, happy to let his much larger brother go first. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about his mother’s chambers felt off this morning, and it wasn’t just Frieda. Her nervousness could be easily explained by any number of the things that had happened since Bethesda was overthrown, but this uneasy feeling was new. A nebulous, malicious threat that hung over his mother’s newly cleaned rooms like old smoke.
It was a pity, too, because under different circumstances, Julius would have really enjoyed the trip. Unlike his short journey to the sitting room yesterday, the walk to the treasury took them straight through the heart of Bethesda’s lair. Here, the human-sized apartments widened into two far grander, dragon-sized caverns. One, the egg-laying chamber, was open and empty, but the other was sealed off with an enormous iron door that prickled with dragon magic.
Given the size of it, Julius didn’t even know how they were getting in. But his question was answered before he could ask when Justin walked right up and grabbed the giant metal slab of a door, yanking it open with a tug that would have pulled his arm off if he’d been human. When he’d made a gap wide enough to pass through, he motioned for Julius to go ahead, holding the iron door open as his brother squeezed through the crack and into a glittering new world.
Thanks to the size of her clan and the fact that she controlled not one, but both American continents, Bethesda the Heartstriker’s treasury was the stuff of dragon legend. Now, seeing it himself for the first time, Julius absolutely understood why. The rough-hewn cave on the other side of the iron door was as large as the throne room itself, and every inch of it was piled with pure, unrelenting, uninterrupted gold.
Gold chains hung from the ceiling like stalactites, creating huge, intricate spider webs around the massive golden lamps whose ever-burning golden light made the cavern glitter. The walls were layered with thread-of-gold tapestries until you couldn’t even see the stone beneath, while the ground was heaped with so many golden coins they looked like sand dunes. They were also, as Julius learned when he tried to make room for Justin, very treacherous footing. He nearly fell before his brother caught him by the shoulder, steadying them both on the slippery gold as they looked around for Bethesda.
She was surprisingly hard to find. Everything in the room was dragon scale, including the massive, oddly flattened pile of gold at the cave’s farthest point, a hollow in the mountains of treasure that had obviously served as a bed to a very large dragon for a very long time. Against that kind of backdrop, even Bethesda’s normally imposing human form looked almost dainty perched atop a hastily assembled throne of gold brick bullion. As always, Conrad was beside her, though he looked far less calm than usual, gripping his Fang as he watched their mother from his post against the far back wall. For her part, Bethesda didn’t even acknowledge her knight’s existence. She just sat on her makeshift throne, staring down at Julius with a look so cold and draconic, it looked utterly alien on her lovely human face.
“Well, well,” the Heartstriker drawled, resting her elbows on her own sheathed Fang, which was lying in her lap. “Look who decided to grace us with his presence.”
The automatic apology was already on the tip of Julius’s tongue before he remembered he didn’t owe her that anymore. “I was asleep,” he said instead. “And I’d like to get back to that, so what do you want?”
Bethesda arched an eyebrow. “So curt,” she scolded. “What happened to your vaunted politeness?”
“It’s been worn a bit thin of late,” he said honestly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dealing with dragons constantly trying to get in my way for no reason other than their own contrariness will do that. But I’m sure the vote tomorrow will pick me right up.”
He finished with a smile that his mother didn’t return. “You’re not the only one growing tired of this,” she said, gripping her sword as she rose from her seat. “I’ve tolerated your antics so far because, quite frankly, I never dreamed you’d last this long. Surely, I thought, the weight of your many, many failures would crush you before you had time to become really annoying. But alas, like a cockroach, you simply won’t die.”
She finished with a growl that made Julius’s blood run cold. He’d been on the receiving end of his mother’s anger many times, but until this moment, he’d never really seen just how deeply she hated him. It hurt more than he’d expected. Apparently, despite everything that happened, some deep part of him still longed for his mother’s approval. But the rest of him, the part that wasn’t a little whelp staring up at the dragoness who should have protected him, understood too well that it changed nothing.
“You’re right,” he said, dropping his hand on his own sword. “I won’t die. I told you before, Bethesda: you’re not getting rid of me or this Council. We’re here to stay, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said, climbing down the pile toward him, her bare feet sure and steady on the shifting piles of gold. “I’ve always believed in fairness, Julius. Nothing makes me angrier than being forced to watch as successful dragons like myself are punished and betrayed, while undeserving little failures like you get a free ride to the top. I keep waiting for the balance of the universe to reassert itself and crush you, but—thanks to my late father’s eccentric addition of an unbeatable, nonviolent sword—I’m sad to say that nature has not been allowed to take her course. But no luck runs forever.” She drew her own Fang from its sheath. “And I have the feeling yours is about to run out.”
By the time she finished, Julius’s sword was in his hands as well. “That’s enough,” he said calmly, holding the blade in front of him. “There’s no point to these threats. So long as I have this, we both know you can’t hurt me.”
“Oh, they’re not threats,” Bethesda said, twirling her sword around her fingers in a blatant show that Julius’s Fang had not paralyzed her as it should have if she’d really been planning to kill him. “I was merely stating fact. A little trick I picked up from Brohomir. The future really is so much more enjoyable when you know what’s going to happen.”
That was clearly bait, so Julius ignored it, watching her casually spinning sword instead. Technically, Bethesda’s Fang had the power to control all the others, but they’d already learned last time this happened that his Fang’s will to stop violence trumped her Fang’s need to command. But while he was positive his mother wanted to kill him, which meant she should be frozen, she clearly wasn’t, and he didn’t know why. He had no idea what she was up to, and that—not her threats or her posturing—was what made him afraid.
“Ah,” she said, her voice rich with satisfaction. “There it is. There’s the fear. I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch. But don’t worry, darling. Fear is the natural state for weaklings like yourself. After all, you’ve done nothing to deserve a place by my side. Every success you’ve had—the coup, this Council foolery, your own continued survival—has come from others. Bob, your obnoxious brat of a mage, even my own father came to your aid from beyond the grave. But that all stops right now. Doesn’t it”—she looked over her shoulder—“Chelsie?”
The moment their mother said her name, Chelsie stepped out of the shadows beside Conrad. Even from halfway across the treasury, Julius could see she looked even paler than she had when Fredrick was stitching her up, but that didn’t slow her down as she took her place at Bethesda’s side.
“I know you two have been very cliquish of late,” Bethesda said, reaching up to stroke Chelsie’s hair. “But what you don’t realize is that my daughter and I are very close. I know all about your little chats, including the one you just concluded, which would have been rank treason if treason still mattered in this mountain gone mad.”
Chelsie shuddered as she spoke, and Julius’s hand tightened on his sword. “I know you’re blackmailing her,” he growled. “But whatever secret you’re keeping, it doesn’t give you the right to use her like your slave.”
“That’s where you’
re wrong,” his mother cooed, pressing her cheek against Chelsie’s in a mockery of a mother’s hug. “You see, I was the one who saved Chelsie from herself. I know exactly what she will do—has done—to keep her secret, and that makes her mine. My daughter, my sword, my deadly shadow, utterly loyal to me, always and forever.”
She pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s cheek, making Chelsie close her eyes in anger, and Julius couldn’t take it anymore. “She’s not yours,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “None of us are! The only reason anyone in the mountain has ever obeyed you is because you gave them no other choice. And the saddest part is, it didn’t have to be that way! You’re our mother. We were born loving you, trusting you. At any point, had you given us any cause, we would have followed you willingly to the ends of the Earth. But you never did. You’ve done nothing but mistrust and manipulate us from the moment we hatched, some of us even before. That’s why your only ‘loyal’ child is the one who hates you the most!”
Chelsie’s eyes were wide by the time he finished. Julius was shocked, too. He hadn’t meant to say all of that out loud, but there didn’t seem to be much point in keeping his cards close to his vest when Bethesda was playing for keeps.
“Everything that’s happened over the last few days, you’ve brought on yourself,” he said, glaring at his mother with two decades of pent-up rage. “You say I got here because I had help, but the reason so many of your children were willing to help me is because I was standing up to you.”
“So I’m the problem?” Bethesda hissed, shoving Chelsie away. “Deluded child. I am Heartstriker! You might have coerced me into signing my powers away at sword point—which, incidentally, is very hypocritical of you considering what you just said about Chelsie—but it doesn’t matter. Everything you’ve worked for is utterly meaningless now, because there’s not going to be a Council.”
Julius stared at her in disbelief. “But there already is,” he said. “You’ve already signed your powers away. You’ve lost, Bethesda. There’s no going back.”
“Oh, darling,” Bethesda drawled. “When will you learn? I never lose. If I experience a setback, I simply find a new way to win. That’s why I’m the Heartstriker, and you’re about to be a stain on my floor.” She lifted her head, raising her voice as she called to someone behind him. “Isn’t that right, Gregory?”
Justin began to growl as both Js looked over their shoulders to see Gregory walking through the heavy vault door.
“What are you doing here?” Justin said, lifting his lips in a snarl.
“What you should have done,” Gregory snarled back, stopping to stare Justin down. “You call yourself the Knight of the Heartstrikers, but when the Heartstriker was overthrown, you stood by and let it happen. Now you’re protecting her usurper, who didn’t even beat her in combat.” He looked away with a sneer. “You don’t deserve to stand at the top of this mountain.”
Justin snorted. “Big talk from a dragon who got taken out by a human girl and her kitten.”
Gregory’s face turned scarlet, but Bethesda just laughed. “Please,” she said airily. “Julius’s human defeated Vann Jeger, whom even Chelsie couldn’t hurt. I’m starting to think she’s the secret to the little whelp’s success. If Julius was less obnoxious, I’d actually be proud. Seducing more-powerful creatures and turning them into weapons is a Heartstriker specialty.”
The way she said that made Julius feel filthy all over. “That is not what I—”
“Oh, I know,” his mother said. “Even when you’re competent, it’s only by accident. But it matters not. Your little girlfriend can’t help you now, and neither can Chelsie, whom, by the way, I’ve strictly forbidden from offering you further assistance.”
“Assistance with what?” Julius said, trying his best to sound confident. “Whether you use Gregory or Chelsie, it doesn’t make a difference. So long as I have this”—he gripped the hilt of his Fang—“we both know I’m untouchable. The moment Gregory seriously considers hurting me, he’ll be stuck like a fly in honey. You’re all bluff.”
“There is no bluff,” Gregory said, a chilling grin spreading over his face. “You forget. Your little parlor trick only works on Heartstrikers, and after not even twenty-four hours of seeing how you’d run this clan, I don’t want to be one anymore.” He turned to their mother. “I quit.”
“What?” Justin roared, looking more insulted by that than he had at anything else. “You can’t quit! No one quits being a Heartstriker!”
“Ian quit for a one-night stand with the White Witch,” Gregory reminded him. “Next to that, my reasoning’s far nobler. Besides, it’s not actually Heartstriker anymore, is it?” His green eyes flicked back to Julius. “We’re his clan now, and I refuse to be part of anything that has a worm like him for a leader.”
“I don’t blame you a jot, dear,” Bethesda said sadly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Normally, the rule is no one gets out of this clan alive. But killing you would help Julius, which Chelsie’s been strictly forbidden from doing, and with the Council still pending, there’s no one else who can officially force you to stay.” Her lips curled in a cruel smile. “Looks like we have no choice but to let you go.”
The moment she said that, magic shivered over the room. It was the same clan magic Julius had felt many times before, but oddly distant, like an echo, probably because there was no actual clan head right now. But while the magic was distorted, it clearly still worked, because Bethesda and Gregory both shivered from head to toe. On the very edge of his mind, in a place he didn’t even know he could touch, Julius felt it, too: a quick, sharp sting, like a taut wire had just snapped.
“I forgot how much that hurts,” their mother said, pressing a hand to her head. “That’s why I accepted Ian back. Kicking dragons out is dreadfully destabilizing. Do that enough times, and you’ll break a clan.”
“Sometimes the only way to heal something is to break it,” Gregory said, rolling his shoulders as his green eyes locked on Julius. “Tell me, Mother. If I fix your broken clan, will you welcome me back?”
The pained look fell off Bethesda’s face, immediately replaced by a triumphant sneer.
“With open arms.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Gregory attacked. He came on so fast, Julius barely got his sword up in time. But while he felt the Fang’s biting magic rise to meet him as it always did, Gregory didn’t freeze. He didn’t even slow down…because he was no longer a Heartstriker.
In hindsight, the ploy was obvious, but knowing didn’t help. In the few seconds it had taken Julius to realize his Fang was useless, Gregory’s hand had wrapped around his throat, lifting him off the ground. But then, right before Gregory delivered the twist that broke Julius’s neck and ended it all for good, Justin’s sword flashed between them.
Gregory’s hand vanished from Julius’s throat. At first, Julius thought this was because Justin had chopped it clean off. But Gregory must have been faster than Julius gave him credit for, because though he was bleeding buckets, his arm still looked to be intact when Justin turned on him with a roar of pure fury.
“You traitor!”
“That’s my line,” Gregory growled, cradling his bleeding hand. “I left the clan to save it. You’re standing there protecting its downfall!”
“That’s rich coming from a dragon who wasn’t even there,” Justin snarled. “But I was. I saw Julius defeat the enemies of this clan and take power with his own hands.”
“But you let him take it!” Gregory cried. “You betrayed—”
“Mother lost!” Justin roared. “By what she taught us, that means she doesn’t deserve power. Julius was the one who gave her a choice, and she chose to stay alive. Now she’s trying to get her power back, and while I don’t blame her for that, I will not step aside from my duty to protect the rightful head of this clan from jealous backstabbers like you.”
His growl at the end left zero doubt of how Justin meant to do that, and Julius scrambled to his feet. “Justin! Don’t—�
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But it was too late. His brother was already swinging for Gregory’s head, his enormous Fang slicing through the air with a building wave of razor-sharp magic. But then, just before the inevitable happened, Justin froze.
It all happened so quickly, it took Julius several seconds to realize that what he’d assumed wasn’t actually what had happened. Justin wasn’t frozen. It was his sword that had stopped, the blade stopped cold in mid-air despite Justin pulling on it with all his might.
“None of that.”
Bethesda’s voice cut through the room like the Fang she was now holding level in her hands. The Fang that controlled all the others. “I told you,” she growled, narrowing her eyes at Justin. “He gets no more help.”
“I’m not helping,” Justin snarled back at her. “I’m doing my job.”
“Your job is to do as I say.”
“It was,” Justin said, releasing his sword. “When you were the Heartstriker. Now, you’re just another dragon.” His eyes flicked back to Gregory. “So far as I’m concerned, you’re pretty close to treason yourself by helping him attack the rightful clan head. But it doesn’t matter.” He folded his fist into his palm, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t need my sword to beat a weakling like him. Armed or not, I do my job, and it will be my duty and my pleasure to turn this clan traitor into paste with my bare hands.”
By the time he finished, there was real fear in Gregory’s eyes. With good reason, too. Justin looked terrifying. Fang or no Fang, he was a massive and intimidating dragon who, now that they were standing right next to each other, Julius saw had a good two inches and fifty pounds even on a monster like Gregory. Seeing him like this, it was all too easy to remember that Justin had held his own against Conrad—famously the best one-on-one fighter in the clan—only two days ago. He hadn’t won, of course, but against a G, that didn’t matter. As a dragon or a human, Justin was a savant of violence, which meant this was going to be over very quickly if Julius let it start.
