by Rachel Aaron
Bethesda: This is an utterly ridiculous question. No human is ever going to eat a dragon. It’s not natural.
Marlin: But for the sake of argument—
Bethesda: You mean for the sake of your ratings, but fine. Of the few children whose failures have been so fatally catastrophic I’ve been forced to throw in the towel and eat them, all have been disgusting. But while I can’t say which one specifically was the least disgusting, the worst by far was Gunther.
Marlin: I don’t believe I met him.
Bethesda: Not many did. He was an absolute failure from the very start. All he did was hide in the bottom of my mountain and eat his feelings. He eventually got so big, we couldn’t get him through the door, so I was forced to do the only logical thing and eat him before he ate us. It took me two days and fifteen bottles of Chianti in total, but I got through it, and it taught the Gs a valuable lesson. Every one of them is a fine, productive dragon now.
Marlin: The things you suffer for your children.
Bethesda: (Nods.) Motherhood is cruel, which is why I must be crueler. There is no room for weakness if you want to raise strong children.
Marlin: You seem to have that part of your life well in hand. But then, you should. You’ve had ten clutches now, the last of which, the Js, only hatched what, twenty-five years ago?
Bethesda: Twenty-four, and they were my largest clutch yet. That said, so far, they’ve been quite disappointing—so soft and whiny! This modern age is no place to raise a dragon. Everything is too convenient. (BETHESDA sighs.) I’m not sure if I’ll lay again.
(Audience groans in disappointment.)
Marlin: No K-clutch, then?
Bethesda: I’m not ruling it out, but I’m going to take a few centuries to cull the herd. I’m not a young dragoness ruthlessly building her power anymore. I’m established and respected with both American continents as my territory. I can afford to wait. Though I do have a list of K names ready, just in case.
Marlin: Your naming system is world famous. How did you come up with it?
Bethesda: Necessity. Growing up in my father’s shadow, I knew my only chance was to out-breed him. I was also heavily influenced by the time I spent in Europe as a young dragoness with my mother’s family. She’d also named us in accordance with the Greek alphabet—
Marlin: I see, so as Bethesda, you were second.
Bethesda: Congratulations, you know your ABCs. But while my mother chose our names for her own idiotic poetic reasons, I saw a simple system for organizing the dragon army I was determined to build. The rest is history that you can read about in my first autobiography, Birth of a Legend.
Marlin: A classic, to be sure. But I don’t remember you talking about your mother before.
Bethesda: That’s because there’s not much to say. She was a weak dragon from a minor clan in what is now Italy. The only thing she had going for her was her legendary beauty and her ability to emotionally entrap the Quetzalcoatl, who foolishly allowed himself to become quite besotted. She died shortly after my brothers and I were born. To a human dragon hunter, if you can believe it. (BETHESDA sneers in disgust.) Absolute embarrassment. I was her only female child and resembled her a great deal, which was why my father always treated me more gently than my brothers. He thought I was like her, simpering and weak with no weapons save my beauty. A mistake he learned to regret when I stabbed him through the heart.
Marlin: And thus became the Heartstriker.
Bethesda: All proper dragons are forged in blood. Though if your viewers want the whole story, they’ll have to buy the books. My second autobiography in particular, A Heartstriker History, has all the juicy details of how I bred and trained my first two clutches specifically to take down my father. No one thought I could do it, especially not him, but no one who underestimates Bethesda the Heartstriker lives to realize their mistake. That’s what separates me from the lesser clan heads. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win. Anything less, and you’re not really playing, are you?
Marlin: And that’s why we love you. (MARLIN turns back to the audience and spreads his arms wide.) Bethesda the Heartstriker, ladies and gentlemen! Her fifth autobiography, “Mother of the Year,” goes on sale today. Whether you have children or not, buy a copy. You won’t be disappointed! (MARLIN turns back to his guest.) Before you go, Bethesda, one final question. You’re often painted by the media as the Great American Dragon. Your children have held positions of power in every aspect of modern life on this continent, including the US Senate, several parliamentary positions in South and Latin America, and a former prime minister of Canada. Love you or hate you, no one can deny that you are one of the political powerhouses in this half of the world, but do your ambitions stop there? At this point, the only dragon clans left who stand a chance against Heartstriker are the Three Sisters and the dragons of China. You make no secret of your desire for total world domination, but can you give us any details about your plans to actually get there?
Bethesda: Not on television. But I can say that by the time the Three Sleepers wake, they’ll find their empire greatly diminished.
Marlin: How very interesting. But what about China? The Three Sisters might be asleep, but the Golden Emperor has been awake and active for centuries. Do you have similar plans for him? Some strategy to break his iron hold on the Pacific?
Bethesda: (stiffens) I have nothing to say about the Golden Emperor.
Marlin: Nothing in general, or nothing you want to say on air where it can get back to him?
Bethesda: You flatter yourself if you think the Golden Emperor watches your little variety show, Marlin.
Marlin: Don’t be ridiculous, love. Everyone watches my show. But if you won’t answer, we’ll just have to make our own assumptions.
Bethesda: Shouldn’t be a stretch. It’s all you do.
Marlin: And with that, I think we’re done. Thank you very much to Bethesda for sitting down with us tonight, and to everyone watching, don’t forget to buy “Mother of the Year!” We’ll be back with our musical-guest-slash-potential-fiery-apocalypse right after this commercial break.
(Music starts playing. MARLIN puts out his hand to BETHESDA, who walks away, disappearing into the green room with her son, CONRAD, who has yet to say a word. When the show cuts to commercial break, all commercials are for fine Heartstriker International products, which are known for their quality all over the world. When you want the ruthless efficiency and effectiveness of a dragon queen, there can be no other choice. Heartstriker International: Elevate Your Life.™)
(End Transcript)
The wait is over! Introducing Heartstrikers Book 3…
NO GOOD DRAGON GOES UNPUNISHED
Coming August 5, 2016!
(Warning! Blurb and sample contain spoilers for One Good Dragon Deserves Another. Proceed at your own risk!)
When Julius overthrew his mother and took control of his clan, he thought he was doing right by everyone. But sharing power isn’t part of any proper dragon’s vocabulary, and with one seat still open on the new ruling Council, all of Heartstriker is ready to do whatever it takes to get their claws on it, including killing the Nice Dragon who got them into this mess in the first place.
To keep his clan together and his skin intact, Julius is going to have to find a way to make his bloodthirsty siblings play fair. But there’s more going on in Heartstriker Mountain than politics. Every family has its secrets, but the skeletons in Bethesda’s closet are dragon sized, and with Algonquin’s war looming over them all, breaking his clan wide open might just be the only hope Julius has of saving it.
Keep reading for a sneak peek of the first chapters, or go to Amazon.com to pre-order your copy now!
Prologue
Nanjing, Ming Dynasty China, 1469
Chelsie, youngest daughter of Bethesda the Heartstriker, knelt prostrate on the black marble floor. Beside her, her mother, adorned in Aztec gold from head to toe, knelt even lower, pressing her crowned forehead against the cold stone as she wept tragic,
beautiful tears that somehow left the dark paint around her eyes perfectly intact. It was a stellar performance, and it should have held all of Chelsie’s attention. Bethesda never put that much effort into tears unless she really wanted something. Now, though, Chelsie barely spared her a glance, because for once her mother was not the most dangerous thing in the room.
“Whore of the Heartstrikers.”
The angry voice was dry as old paper, and Chelsie lifted her red-rimmed eyes to the massive golden throne shaped like a coiled dragon that dominated the marble hall’s northern end. In the middle of the coils, where the dragon’s head should have been, was a second throne of pure white jade with a god-like man sitting on top of it. His entire body from head to feet, including his face, was veiled in golden silk, not that it changed anything. Even with the heavy cloth, Chelsie could feel his angry eyes on her like teeth. But despite his obvious fury, the god-like man’s was not the voice that had spoken. That belonged to the ancient dragoness sitting beside him on the slightly smaller, but still incredibly ornate, black jade throne that had been built into the coils of the golden dragon’s tail, glaring down at the bowing Heartstrikers in absolute disgust.
“You must have a death wish, harlot,” the old dragoness spat, her face—which already looked like wrinkled rice paper—crumpling even tighter in her rage. “Coming here yourself after what your wretched, shameless daughter has done. But then, you always were as deranged as your father, the Quetzalcoatl. Perhaps you are proud to have produced a dragoness whose morals are even more degraded than your own?”
“That is why I have come to you, Empress Mother,” Bethesda said tearfully, raising her head so that the gold-shrouded man on the white-jade throne could see the full effect of her beautiful weeping. “My youngest daughter is as stupid as she is ambitious. I sent her to your Empire to form a simple alliance, but she had plans of her own, and now her bungled power grab has caused great pain for both of our clans. I have no excuse for her failures. I can only throw myself on your legendary mercy and beg the boon of your forgiveness.”
“Mercy is the privilege of the powerful,” the Empress Mother agreed, resting her long, lacquered nails on the gold-swathed arm of the man beside her. “But my son is no mere dragon. He is the Qilin, the Golden Emperor, Dragon of the Middle Kingdom, Living Embodiment of All Good Fortune, and Head of All Clans. He can easily afford to be merciful, even to ones such as you, but what have you done to deserve it?” Her cold, reptilian-red eyes flicked to Chelsie. “This is no mere insult. Your daughter has dirtied our family name, leaving us open to rank gossip and ridicule. These injuries are not so easily mended, even for ones as great as ourselves.”
“And I am prepared to make amends,” Bethesda said immediately. “I have wealth, gold—”
“We have plenty of that,” the Empress Mother scoffed, rapping her knuckles on the golden dragon that surrounded her and her son. “We are the dragons of China! All the fabled cities of gold in your pathetic jungle put together wouldn’t merit a blink of my son’s eye. But this is not an injury that can be mended with gold.”
She pointed at Chelsie, who shuddered. “We welcomed your daughter as our guest, showed her great hospitality, and she repaid us with deceit and treachery. She sought to make us look as foolish as you in the eyes of our subjects. It is our good standing, our pride she struck, not our coffers, and if you wish to make amends for that, Heartstriker, then you must pay in kind.”
Bethesda’s green eyes grew wary. “What do you mean?”
A cruel smile crept across the Empress Mother’s wrinkled face. “Even among dragons, you are infamous for your arrogance. The stories of you that reach our court are so wild I dismissed them at first, but one look at your gaudy display today shows that was a mistake. You are clearly every bit as prideful, feckless, and self-absorbed as the rumors say, and so that shall be your price.” She pointed at her feet. “Beg,” she commanded. “Get down on the floor and plead for your daughter’s life. Show us that even the Heartstriker can be humble before her betters, and perhaps we shall show mercy.”
By the time she finished, Bethesda had gone still as the stone beneath them, and Chelsie’s tiny flicker of hope began to die. She’d never do it. There was no way Bethesda the Heartstriker would beg for—
Chelsie’s racing thoughts slammed to a halt as her mother dropped her head to the floor, pressing her golden crown flat against the stone with her jeweled hands outstretched on either side in a show of full submission. “Please,” she said, the word shaking with the effort it had clearly taken her to force it out. “Please, Golden Emperor, spare my stupid daughter.”
The Empress Mother laughed in delight. “Excellent!” She cackled, settling back on her throne to enjoy the show. “Now, say you’re a whore.”
Bethesda’s fingers dug gouges into the marble floor, and Chelsie held her breath, bracing for the explosion…that never came. Somehow, impossibly, Bethesda held herself together, glaring hatefully up at the old dragoness as she growled through clenched teeth.
“I am a whore.”
“Louder,” the Empress Mother commanded, waving her hand toward the unseen dragons Chelsie could smell waiting outside in the courtyard. “I want the whole court to hear you confirm what everyone already knows.”
Smoke began to curl from Bethesda’s lips, but again, somehow, she forced the words out.
“I. Am. A. Whore.”
“And a desperate one at that,” the Empress Mother agreed, turning to her son, who had yet to say a word. “You see now, my Emperor? It’s just as I told you. Bethesda the Broodmare is the worst kind of trash. Even before she killed her father, she was famous for shamelessly seducing bigger, better dragons to add more soldiers to her infant army. She’s barely five hundred years old, and already she’s laid five clutches. Five! The last of which hatched just last year.”
Her beady red eyes snapped back to Chelsie. “With such a mother, how can we expect the child to be different? Bethesda claims it was her daughter’s idea, but it is obvious to me that this whole mess was yet another of the Broodmare’s plots. I wouldn’t let her breed her filth into one of our clans, so she sent her daughter to worm her way in by deceit instead. And why not? The Broodmare and her children are cut from the same cloth. The lot of them are nothing but tacky, grasping scavengers who’ll take power any way they can snatch it. They are incapable of speaking the truth and unworthy of your presence. I advise you to kill them both now before they poison our ears with more treachery.”
Bethesda shot to her feet. “You lying—”
The Empress Mother waved her hand, and dragon magic stronger and older than anything Chelsie had ever felt crashed down on top of them, forcing the Heartstriker back to her knees. “Worms do not stand in the presence of dragons,” she snarled, baring her yellowed teeth. “A creature such as you does not deserve the gift of the Golden Emperor’s condescension, much less his mercy! The best you can hope for is a swift—”
The dragon beside her lifted his hand, and the Empress Mother’s rant cut off mid-breath.
“Is it true?”
His voice was as lovely as the golden throne he sat on. So rich and inviting, it drained the anger from the air. Even Bethesda relaxed when he spoke, but Chelsie could only lower her head. It was impossible to see through the golden shroud he wore to hide the glory of his face from the undeserving, but now as before, Chelsie could feel his eyes through the heavy fabric, boring into her like knives as he repeated the question.
“Is it true, Chelsie?”
The sound of that voice saying her name was almost too much to take. Everyone in the room was looking at her now, including Bethesda, who seemed to be holding her breath. She was wondering if there was any way she could sink straight into the stone when the Golden Emperor snapped, “Look at me.”
Slowly, painfully, Chelsie forced her head up to see that the Golden Emperor had taken off his veil, making everything a thousand times worse. She would much rather face the distant god with his un
readable mask of silk than to be forced to look at that heartbreakingly familiar face, his beautiful eyes—not red like his mother’s, but golden. The rich, pure, buttery, glittering gold that dragons cherished above all other treasures—beseeching her as he rose from his throne.
“Tell me it’s a lie,” he said, his lovely voice growing desperate. “Tell me she’s wrong, Chelsie, and I’ll believe you.”
She dropped her eyes, hands curling into fists on the stone floor as she fought the temptation to yell that both of their mothers were wrong. That it was all a lie and she’d never meant to betray him. Never meant for any of this to happen. It would have been so easy, too, because it was the truth. And yet…
“Don’t you dare,” Bethesda hissed in their own language. “If he finds out the real reason you tried to run, an ocean won’t be far enough to save us. His anger will destroy everything.”
Including him.
Chelsie doubted her mother had considered that last part, but for her, it was the final twist of the knife. She’d tried so hard to fix her mistake, to make things right, but she’d only made everything worse. Even the last-ditch call for her mother’s help hadn’t changed a thing. If she told the truth now, all it would do was destroy everything even faster.
With that, Chelsie knew her fate was sealed. Her only hope was to keep her greatest mistake a secret forever, but she couldn’t do that while the Emperor was looking at her. She needed to get away. Far, far away, where he could never find her. Never know. Keeping him in the dark was the only chance she had left of righting the massive wrong she’d done them both, and so Chelsie committed to her path, raising her head to look the Emperor straight in his beautiful, golden eyes as she prepared to tell the biggest lie of her life.
