A Dragon of a Different Color

by Rachel Aaron

  “I would like nothing better,” Lao said passionately. “But it is not my place to question the emperor’s will. For ten thousand years, the Qilins have ruled the Chinese clans in peace, harmony, and prosperity. Like his father before him, the Golden Emperor’s great good fortune has sheltered us from the constant war and strife that plagues the rest of the dragon clans. We are all blessed to dwell in his presence. If he wishes to extend that blessing to you, we trust his wisdom, but that doesn’t mean we trust you.”

  He stepped closer, leaning down until his face was level with Julius’s. “I don’t know what you said to anger the empress,” he said quietly. “But the Golden Empire’s prosperity depends on the Qilin’s serenity. If you upset him as you did his mother, I will throw you back to her, and I will make sure you are not rescued a second time. Do I make myself clear, Heartstriker?”

  As crystal. But while Julius had no problem following Lao’s threat, the larger picture was more confusing than ever. Why was everyone so concerned about upsetting the Qilin? Did something happen when he got mad? And if so, why had he risked that by invading Heartstriker? Especially with those ridiculous surrender terms? The more Julius saw of this invasion, the more convinced he became that no one in the Golden Empire wanted to be here, so why were they? Surely there had to be a better way of fighting Algonquin.

  As always, nothing about this made sense. The more he learned about the Qilin, the less he understood. But while Julius didn’t like being threatened by Lao any more than he enjoyed it from his own family, he couldn’t afford to walk away. This meeting was his only chance to talk face to face with the one dragon who knew what was actually going on. Julius was willing to put up with a lot for that, so he meekly lowered his head, dropping his eyes in the ultimate display of draconic submission as he leaned over to set his Fang of the Heartstriker on the floor at Lao’s feet.

  “There,” he said, holding up his empty hands in surrender. “Like I’ve said from the start, we don’t want any conflict. We just want to talk.”

  Lao still looked suspicious, but Julius was being absolutely sincere. Even Fredrick played along, raising his empty hands as well. Together, it must have been enough, because the blue dragon sighed. “Remember,” he growled as he opened the door. “Treat him with the utmost respect. If you say or do anything that disrupts his calm, you will pay for it.”

  Julius nodded, stepping eagerly into the parlor, which, like everywhere else at the top of the mountain, was totally changed.

  The last time Julius had been here, the room had been a red-velvet nightmare. Now, all of the overstuffed divans, red shaded lamps, and awkward nude portraits of his mother were gone. The red-and-gold boudoir paper had been peeled off the walls as well, revealing the mountain’s natural rust-colored stone, which someone had scoured to a pale rose. The floor had been scrubbed within an inch of its life as well, removing centuries of soot and dried blood. Even the tiny porthole window had been polished so clean, the glass was practically invisible, allowing the sun to transform the dark chamber into a bright, airy space that felt three times as large as before. Julius couldn’t imagine how much effort it had taken to work such a miracle, but it was still nothing compared to the tall dragon in golden robes sitting in front of the unlit fireplace.

  For the second time today, seeing the Golden Emperor hit Julius like a punch. It didn’t seem to matter that he knew what to expect this time. It simply wasn’t possible to ready yourself for something so impossibly perfect.

  And perfect he was. Just sitting alone in an empty room with his face hidden by the ever-present golden veil—which was properly pinned to his hair this time rather than just being draped over his head—the Qilin looked more regal than Bethesda had in her full regalia. Admittedly, part of that was because the Qilin’s overlapping robes contained more gold than Bethesda’s dress, headdress, and jewelry combined.

  Mostly, though, it was just him. The way the streaming sunlight struck him perfectly, illuminating the motes of dust in the air above him until they sparkled like a halo. The way his robes, which had to weigh hundreds of pounds between all the ornamentations and threads of gold, draped his body like supple silk. The way the smooth skin his folded hands looked like perfectly carved stone brought to life.

  From anyone else, Julius would have suspected an illusion, some kind of trick to make the emperor appear to be more than what he was. With the Qilin, though, it just looked right, because that was what he was: more. He was something else, a creature who lived in perfect harmony with everything around him. Just being in his presence made Julius instinctively want to harmonize with him if only so he’d have a place in the tranquil, beautiful scene. He was still standing there gawking in dumb wonder when Lao stepped in front of him with a bow.

  “Great emperor,” he said, his voice humble and reverent in a way Julius had never heard from a dragon before. “I have brought the young Heartstriker, as you requested.”

  “Thank you, cousin,” the emperor said, turning his veiled face toward Julius as he held out his hand toward one of the elegant mahogany chairs that had been set up in a semicircle in front of him. “Sit.”

  It was an offer, not a command, but Julius still flinched. The Qilin’s voice was softer than it had been this morning, but the power behind it was no less entrancing. Literally entrancing, he realized with a jolt. He’d gotten a hint of it back in the desert, but now that they were together in a smaller space, he could actually feel the Qilin’s magic pushing him to comply. To not make a fuss or disrupt the perfection. It wasn’t as hard or sharp as normal dragon magic, but it was definitely there, and the more it leaned on him, the less Julius liked it.

  “I’ll stand, thank you,” he said, forcing his feet to stay rooted to the floor.

  It was probably his imagination, but Julius would have sworn his refusal made the Qilin uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell for sure through the veil, but his body seemed more rigid when he turned to the dragon behind Julius. “Whom have you brought with you?”

  “This is my brother,” Julius said proudly, reaching back to pull Fredrick forward until he and the F were standing side by side. “Fredrick.”

  Fredrick dipped his head in a quick bow, but while his face was calm as always, his arm was shaking against Julius’s hand. Julius didn’t know if that was because the F was afraid of the emperor or if he was simply not used to being pulled out of the background, but he immediately felt like a heel for causing it. He was trying to make eye contact with Fredrick to let him know it was okay to step back again when the Qilin leaned forward.

  “Fredrick?” he said, emphasizing the F. “As in Bethesda’s hidden clutch?”

  When Fredrick nodded, the Qilin seemed enthralled. “I’d heard rumors that the Heartstriker kept an entire clutch of her own children as servants, but I always assumed it was a story started by her enemies. Maybe even by Bethesda herself as a ploy to play up her ruthlessness. I never dreamed it would actually be true.”

  “It was true,” Fredrick said, his voice quivering. “But not anymore.” He smiled down at Julius. “My brother freed us when he came to power, and I swore a debt of loyalty to him in return.”

  “Which is why you’re here,” the emperor said, nodding as his veiled head turned back to Julius. “Now I am even more eager to speak with the new head of Heartstriker.”

  “I’m not really the head,” Julius said quickly, drawing a dirty look from Lao, who was pouring them tea from the elegant porcelain tea set sitting on the stoop of Bethesda’s freshly scoured fireplace. “I’m just one seat on the Heartstriker Council. We have three.”

  The emperor shrugged. “So long as you can speak for your clan, and I don’t have to speak to Bethesda, it makes no difference to me. But how did you come to form a Council with your mother? When we heard she’d been overthrown, I expected to find her head on a pike.”

  “If things had gone differently, that probably would have been the case,” Julius admitted. “But due to an unlikely series of event
s, Bethesda’s life ended up in my hands, and I don’t like killing.”

  The Qilin tilted his veiled head. “That’s an odd statement to hear from a Heartstriker. Your clan is famous for its ruthlessness.”

  “I’ve never been very good at living up to expectations,” he said proudly, accepting the teacup Lao shoved at him. “I actually used to be the lowest Heartstriker, so I knew what it was like to be under someone else’s boot. When I ended up at the top, I couldn’t bring myself to put another dragon in that position.”

  “So you spared her life.”

  “Not because she deserved it,” Julius said quickly. “I’m not apologizing for or forgiving anything my mother has done. I don’t know what happened between our clans that made you banish us from China, but I’m sure it was warranted. That said, Heartstriker isn’t what it used to be. When I spared my mother and created the Council, I swore to make a better Heartstriker than the one I grew up in. One that’s not based on fear, and where dragons don’t have to kill to get ahead. That’s what I set out to do, and I was almost there when you arrived.”

  “Then you should continue,” the Qilin said calmly. “The terms of surrender specifically state that your clan will continue to govern itself. So long as you don’t cause a problem for others, you’re free to do as you like.”

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Julius said, staring as hard as he could into the emperor’s veil in the hopes that he might finally catch a glimpse of his face. “I’ve read your surrender terms several times now, and while they are quite generous, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve. Other than bringing us into your empire, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to change anything.”

  “We’re not,” he said, his rich voice oddly bitter. “I gave up hope for the Heartstrikers long ago. I admit you seem like an interesting exception to your family’s rule, but I’m not so naïve as to believe one dragon can fundamentally alter a clan as large and bloody as yours. I’m only here to avert a disaster, not break my empire attempting to change what cannot be changed.”

  “If that’s how you feel, why bother conquering us at all?” Julius asked. “If you just want to fight Algonquin, we’d happily work with you as allies. There’s no need to take over—”

  “I hope this is not what you came to discuss,” the emperor interrupted. “I granted you a temporary reprieve out of respect for your customs, but there will be no negotiation. As you said yourself, my terms are quite generous. You can have no legitimate complaints.”

  “I don’t,” Julius said. “But—”

  “No,” the Qilin said. “There is no ‘but.’ You asked for time to convene your Council. I gave it. But whether your third member arrives to vote or not, the Heartstriker clan will join my empire tomorrow morning as planned.”

  That was clearly meant to be the end of the discussion, but Julius couldn’t leave it. “Can you at least tell me why?” he blurted out, pointedly ignoring Lao, who’d given up even the pretense of serving tea in favor of watching him like a hawk. “When dragon clans conquer each other, it’s normally to claim territory or gain dominion over weaker dragons, but you’re clearly not the least bit interested in any of that. You’re conquering in name only, putting us in your empire, but not actually changing anything. You’re not even taking tribute, and I just want to understand why. Why bother with all of this if you’re not getting anything from it?”

  “Is stopping Algonquin not reason enough?” Lao growled.

  “It’s a great reason,” Julius said. “I just don’t see what it has to do with us. Heartstriker’s not capable of fighting Algonquin right now. The reason you caught us with an empty mountain is because we were getting ready to run. If you’d wanted to come into our territory and fight Algonquin, we absolutely would not have stopped you. Quite the opposite. We gladly would have helped you and been forever in your debt. You have to know that, so I don’t think my confusion is out of place. If you were demanding something for our protection—tribute, territory, soldiers—that would make sense, but you’re not demanding anything. We actually come out ahead in this deal, while the only thing you get is another liability to defend.”

  “Then why are you complaining?” Lao snapped.

  “Because it’s too good,” Julius snapped back. “You dropped out of the sky in our hour of need and offered to protect us from Algonquin in return for what is basically symbolic surrender. We don’t give up our right to rule or control of our territory. You’re not even asking for money.” He turned back to the Qilin. “I might be a terrible dragon, but even I know things that seem too good to be true usually are. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if our positions were reversed?”

  By the time he finished, Lao didn’t look like he was going to make good on his threat to throw them back to the Empress Mother. He was already breathing smoke in preparation for cooking Julius on the spot himself. The only reason he didn’t was because his imperial cousin put a hand on his sleeve.

  “And this is your only objection?” the Golden Emperor said quietly. “That the agreement I’ve given you is ‘too good to be true?’”

  “That and the part where we don’t like the idea of being conquered,” Julius said, nodding. “I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but my mother’s already planning to stab you in the back.”

  Lao stepped forward with a hiss. “Is that a threat?”

  “I’d call it more of an eventuality,” Julius said with a shrug. “You know how proud dragons are. It doesn’t matter how generously you dress it up, no one welcomes being conquered. If you force us to bow, we will always be your enemies, but if you come to us as an ally, everything changes.” He smiled at the emperor. “Like I said, we don’t want to fight you. If your goal is to stop Algonquin, we are absolutely on your side. If you work with us instead of against us, you can still do everything you want, but at the end you’ll have a grateful ally rather than a resentful vassal. That’s a way better outcome for all involved, and I don’t understand why you’re not doing it. That’s what makes me suspicious. You’re choosing what is obviously the worst path for everyone, including you, and I can’t understand why.”

  He was sweating bullets by the time he finished. On the other side of the small room, Lao was holding back by a thread, blue smoke curling dangerously from his lips, and oddly enough, that made Julius feel better. He’d wondered whether the emperor’s dragons protected him out of love or fear. For Lao at least, the fuming smoke was his answer. Even the prickliest dragon didn’t get that worked up without something serious on the line. The blue dragon’s respect for the Golden Emperor was clearly more than just deference to his power. Lao really cared, and that gave Julius hope. Hope that grew infinitely larger when the Qilin spoke again.

  “Lao,” he said quietly. “I wish to speak with Julius Heartstriker alone.”

  The blue dragon whirled around, but though he looked horrified, he didn’t argue with the order. He just clenched his jaw and reached for Fredrick, who yanked his arm out of the way with a growl of his own.

  “It’s okay, Fredrick,” Julius said, glancing at the emperor before leaning in to whisper, “This could be the break we’ve been looking for. If he wants to talk alone, then he’s going to say something he doesn’t want his subjects to hear.”

  “Or he could kill you,” the F growled back.

  “He can do that at any time,” Julius said, giving his brother a little shove. “Go with Lao. I’ll yell if I get in trouble.”

  The F didn’t look happy, but he nodded, allowing himself to be marched out of the room under Lao’s watchful glare, leaving Julius and the Golden Emperor alone.

  “Thank you for your honesty earlier,” the emperor said when their footsteps had faded. “I hadn’t considered how my offer would appear from your perspective. I never meant to make you doubt my sincerity.”

  Julius stared at him in shock. Dragons never said thank you to him, or admitted they were wrong. “Does this mean you’re going t
o take me up on the alliance idea?” he asked excitedly.

  “No,” the emperor said, shaking his head. “I must bring Heartstriker into my empire at all costs.”

  Julius’s soaring spirits dropped like a stone. “But—”

  “But you have convinced me to show you why,” the emperor continued, rising gracefully from his chair. “Come with me.”

  He swept out the door, leaving Julius to scramble after him. It was a chase, too. For someone who always moved as though he were walking at the head of a procession, the Golden Emperor was surprisingly fast. Julius had to jog to keep pace as the emperor strode down the hallway toward the rear of the mountain, away from the entry room where Lao and Fredrick were tensely waiting. Given the direction, Julius assumed they were headed for the treasury, but the Qilin stopped several feet short of the giant vault door that had once protected Bethesda’s hoard, turning instead to the door of the only room in Bethesda’s apartments Julius hadn’t been inside yet. The egg-laying chamber.

  Well, Julius supposed he must have been here at least once. He was Bethesda’s son, after all, and even she kept her hatchlings close for at least the first week. That said, he had zero memory of the laying chamber, and he couldn’t help feeling a jolt of apprehension as the Qilin opened the double doors to reveal a large, cave-like room with an enormous circular glass skylight set in the middle of the ceiling.

  Since it was afternoon in the desert, this meant the entire cavern was lit up with streaming sunlight, turning the normally reddish rock of Heartstriker Mountain a beautiful rosy gold. It was so unexpectedly lovely, but Julius didn’t even notice the paintings until he walked straight into one.

  He might have no memory of Bethesda’s laying room, but Julius was positive those hadn’t been here before. The sunlit cave was absolutely packed with paintings. Some had been rolled into scrolls and stacked in the corners. Others were stretched out on wooden frames that had been propped up against the walls wherever there was room. Like the ones he’d seen in the entryway, the paintings were a mix of styles and mediums, though most were watercolors. Chinese landscapes featuring dragons in particular were featured in abundance, though there were also plenty of life studies, animal portraits, and dreamy, impressionistic abstracts.