“Considering I’m the one who sent them to paradise, I find it entirely appropriate,” Fredrick said smugly. “This is actually going even better than I’d hoped.”
“Yes, yes, it’s great forthem,” Julius agreed. “But what are we going to do? It’s a hard room in there, and I was counting on the Qilin’s support.” He nodded through the door into the hotel ballroom, which was packed to the gills with dragons. Delegations from every clan sat at tables that had been set up in a circle, and despite this supposedly being a peaceful summit, every one of them looked ready to kill. “We could use some good luck.”
“You’ll be fine,” Marci said, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Who needs luck when you’ve got friends in high places?”
She looked pointedly across the hall at Amelia, who was deep in conversation with the spirit of the DFZ. The city was dressed in her best glowing neon for the occasion, her beady eyes shining a bright, cheerful orange from beneath the shadow of her deep hood. Myron looked less happy standing beside her, but what mortal could feel comfortable in the presence of so many dragons? Except Marci, of course. She was used to it, and like everything else about her, Julius loved her for it.
“You’re right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be fine.”
“You’llbe fine,” Marci said pointedly, handing him his cane. “We’ve got to go take our seats now. Knock ’em dead!”
Julius took the cane with a smile as Marci adjusted her long formal dress—which looked suspiciously like a wizard’s robe—and hurried to follow Myron and the spirits into the meeting room, Ghost trotting along behind her like the cat he pretended to be. Julius was still watching her go when he felt a familiar murderous presence behind him.
“You’re bringingthatin, are you?”
Bethesda’s voice was scathing, and Julius turned to find his mother decked in gold from head to toe, glaring down her nose at the cane he was using to keep himself upright. “Really, Julius! I know you’re only a week into being miraculously raised from the dead, but if you hobble in there like an invalid, you’re going to look weak.”
“Not as weak as I’d look falling on my face,” Julius pointed out. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but until my fire finishes healing, it’s what I’ve got.”
“You could at least try to stand up straight,” his mother scolded. “That way, the others might think it’s an accessory instead of a necessity.”
Julius didn’t think there was any chance of that. Dragons had a sixth sense for weakness, and even after everyone’s contributions, his fire was still little bigger than a hatchling’s. Cane or no cane, he’d be outed the second they smelled him.
“Where’s Ian?” he asked, changing the subject.
Bethesda’s perfect red lips curled in disgust. “Where he always is these days, with Svena.” She shook her lovely head. “Cementing alliances is well and good, but this is bordering on ridiculous. The ex-Daughters of the Three Sisters are up to their snouts in debt to our clan,andwe’ve already gotten our clutch out of them. There’s nothing left for Ian to charm out of the White Witch, so I don’t know why he’s still playing consort. We’re on top! He should be gunning for new conquests, not wasting his time hanging around old ones.”
“I’mhappy for them,” Julius said stubbornly. “They seem well matched.” Not that he understood a relationship that seemed to be based on who could use the other better, but Svena and Ian were both dragon’s dragons, and it seemed to work for them.
“Well, he’d better pull himself out of her icy clutches soon, because we’re starting in two minutes,” Bethesda said, checking her phone. She grimaced when she saw the time and shot Julius the closest thing she had to a nervous look. “The planisstill on, right? You haven’t killed it or something stupid like that?”
“Why would I kill it?” Julius asked. “It was my plan.”
“Yes, but I like it,” his mother pointed out. “And youalwaysdestroy the things I like, so…”
“It’s fine,” he assured her.
“What’s fine?” Justin asked, suddenly appearing at Julius’s side.
“Everything,” Julius said, smiling at his knight. As always, Justin was dressed like a modern knight in military-grade spellworked Kevlar with his Fang at his side. Conrad was wearing the same as he stepped into place beside Bethesda. The only one who didn’t have a knight was Ian, but he didn’t seem to mind when he finally appeared.
“About time,” Bethesda snapped, eying his skewed suit and uncharacteristically rumpled hair, which was standing up in the back as though someone tall had been running her fingers through it. “Did you make sure Svena is still on our side?”
“It didn’t come up,” Ian said, neatening himself up in the hall mirror. “But I trust my consort to do what is best for our clan.”
“Which one?” Bethesda growled. “This is the problem with letting you bat for two teams. I’m never sure where you stand.”
“I stand where I always have,” Ian said, tugging his silk tie straight. “With my own self-interest, and that’s very well served by Julius’s plan.” His brown eyes flicked to his brother. “Shall we go in?”
“Any time,” Julius said. “We’re just waiting on Amelia.”
Bethesda rolled her eyes. “No point in that. This is her first big meeting as the Spirit of Dragons. She’s not going to make a normal entrance through the door. Just go in. It never pays to make dragons wait.”
That was a good point, so Julius motioned for Justin to lead the way. Proud as an armored peacock, the knight shoved the doors open, letting the Heartstriker delegation into the elegant ballroom where the rest of dragonkind was already waiting.
After greeting nearly every dragon in the world as they’d come through Svena’s portal, Julius hadn’t been too worried about seeing them all again now. As they walked to Heartstriker’s table at the front, though, he realized he’d drastically underestimated the situation. It was one thing to face all the clan heads when the world was about to end, but it was quite another to stand in front of them now. Back then, they’d had no choice but to listen. Now, things were far less certain.
Thankfully, he was saved by Amelia. As Bethesda had predicted, the Spirit of Dragons had been waiting to make her entrance. The moment the Heartstriker delegation was in place behind their table, completing the circle of the clans, she appeared behind the podium at the circle’s apex with a swirl of fire. There was quite a lot of fire, actually. The normal dress she’d been wearing just a few minutes ago had been replaced with a gown of living flames, and a crown of fire in the shape of a dragon crouched on top of her head. Even her shoes were made of fire, scorching the elegant hotel carpet and all but ensuring they wouldn’t be getting the deposit back.
