“And they would still bemysons,” Ian added with a smile. “Trust me, their childhood would be nothing like yours.”
Julius still wasn’t convinced. Claiming you’d be a better parent than Bethesda was like saying cement was lighter than lead—technically true, but still not actually saying very much. Then again, at least Ian cared about his eggs, and theywerehis children. They were going to grow up in a clan one way or another, so why not Heartstriker? Wasn’t that why he’d done all of this in the first place? To change their clan into something better where dragons wouldn’t have to suffer like he had?
“Okay,” he said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m in. But how are we going to do it? Even if we’re in agreement, the Council’s not complete, which means we can’t actually make decisions.” That was the whole reason for rushing the vote, but Bethesda just shrugged.
“We don’t have to make a decision,” she said. “Technically, no one leaves Heartstriker unless they get kicked out by myself, Chelsie, or Conrad.”
Julius blinked. “You let Chelsie and Conrad kick dragons out?”
“Of course,” Bethesda said, looking innocently offended. “How can I be a loving mother if I don’t have someone to be my villain? Though now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever actually exiled anyone. Letting a dragon with a vendetta against you live is only asking for trouble. If a Heartstriker has messed up that badly, it’s far easier to just let Chelsie kill them and be done with it. After all, it’s not as though I don’t have enough of you to go round.”
She smiled cruelly at Julius, who refused to acknowledge it. “But that’s neither here nor there,” she went on. “What matters is that Ian was never officially kicked out in the first place, which means we don’t have to officially let him back in. All we have to do is agree, which we already have. And he still has to win, of course, though really, dear.” She turned back to Ian. “Youdoknow you have zero chance of beating David, right? He’s already got half the dragons he needs to win in debt to him, and you haven’t even gotten started. Even with your arrogance, you have to know it’s a lost cause.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ian said cryptically, opening the door. “After you.”
“In a moment,” Bethesda said. “Julius and I have something to discuss.”
That was news to Julius. Ian looked surprised as well, but he knew better than to question. He simply flashed Julius his confidentyou’ll tell me latersmile and walked out to rejoin Svena and her sisters.
The moment the door closed behind him, Bethesda turned on her youngest son. “Before you let this momentary agreement go to your head, let’s set the record straight. I hate you. I hate how you think, I hate this Council, and the very idea of holding a vote to determine who else gets to sharemypower thatIspent my entire life building makes me want to vomit. But against all odds and despite my best efforts, it seems that my clan will, in fact, be voting tonight, and that means we need to talk.”
“About what?” Julius asked, because he thought she’d already been perfectly clear.
“How you’re going to avoid embarrassing me,” she replied, looking him up and down. “Honestly, Julius, do you think there’s even the ghost of a chance that you can get up in front of our entire family tonight andnothumiliate yourself? Have you ever spoken in front of a crowd before? Do you know anything about our clan businesses or power structure? Can you even name twenty Heartstrikers who aren’t Js?”
Julius couldn’t do any of that, and he began to sweat. “I—”
“Of course you can’t,” Bethesda snapped. “Because before Brohomir started puffing you up, all you cared about was hiding. You don’t know a thing about the world you’ve had the gall to raise yourself to, which is why you are all but guaranteed to go down in flames tonight. Normally, I’d call that grade-A entertainment, but since you’ve forced yourself intomypower, your failures now reflect on both of us, and I absolutely refuse to be made a fool of in front of my own children.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If this vote is actually going to happen, I demand you accept some help.”
Julius stared at her in disbelief. He hadn’t even realized his mother understood the word “help” in this context. But before he could tell her he’d actually love some assistance, Bethesda reached out and yanked on the velvet bellpull in the corner, one of the few pieces in the entry room that hadn’t been destroyed. The signal made no sound Julius could hear, but a second later, a new dragon stepped out of the hallway that led into the rest of Bethesda’s rooms with a deep bow.
Even before he entered the room, Julius knew the newcomer was an F. First, he smelled exactly like Frieda, which was to say like the mountain itself, but the bow was the real giveaway. No other Heartstriker would ever bow, not even to Bethesda. But while guessing the clutch was easy, Julius was ashamed to admit he had no ideawhichF he was looking at.
Oddly, his first impression was that the new dragon was extraordinarily tall. Almost as tall as Bob, which was remarkable even for the Heartstrikers, who tended to take after their mother’s Amazonian stature. Also like the seer, he was very slender, though this could have been an illusion caused by his suit, which was so unrelentingly black it made it difficult to see where his body actually was. Add in the neatly trimmed jet-black hair and somber expression, and he looked as though he were on his way to a funeral. Given that four Heartstrikers had just died, Julius was worried that was actually true when his mother put her hand on the new dragon’s shoulder.
“This is Fredrick,” she said, turning the dragon around to face Julius. “Starting now, he’ll be your aide.”
“My what?”
“Your aide,” Bethesda repeated, enunciating each syllable like you would for someone who was both hard of hearing and stupid. “Your personal assistant and, in your case, teacher. He used to be my tailor, but saving myself from abject humiliation is more important to me than straight hems right now, so I’m lending him to you. Don’t squander the opportunity.”
Julius nodded, keeping his face carefully neutral. Having a teacher should have been a marvelous opportunity since, insults aside, his mother was right. He did desperately need to know more about the clan he was suddenly in charge of, and if his instructor had been anyone but an F, Julius would have been delighted. It wasn’t that he mistrusted this dragon specifically—Julius wouldn’t trust any dragon he’d just met—but the Fs were the clutch that never left his mother’s side. Julius might not know why that was exactly, but he didn’t think it was coincidence that Bethesda had chosen one to be his mentor. If any Heartstriker could be said to be loyal, it would be the Fs, which meant that by lending Fredrick to Julius, Bethesda hadn’t given her son an aide. She’d given herself a spy.
“You know, ‘thank you’ is the appropriate response when someone does you a favor,” Bethesda said, giving him a winning smile. “Let’s hear it.”
“Thank you,” Julius muttered. “But—”
“Good,” she snapped. “Nowyou may go. And when I see you tonight, I expect you to be able to conduct yourself as a proper example of the power and prestige your position demands. Fredrick knows what’s needed. Just do as he says, don’t be Julius-y, and everything should shake out with minimal damage, which is the best we can hope for at this point. Now go, and send David in on your way out.”
Julius did not appreciate being dismissed like a servant, but he liked the idea of another argument even less, so he just left, striding through the door without a look back. When he reached the throne room, though, it was empty. Svena and her sisters were gone, as were Ian and David. The only dragon left was Conrad, who was leaning against the cracked wall beside their mother’s door like a guardian statue.
“Um,” Julius said, unsure who else to ask. “Do you know where David—”
“Downstairs,” Conrad replied, his deep voice calm as always as he looked Julius over. “He and Ian had words, and now they’re both off to the races.”
Julius was relieved to hear it had been words and not blows, which was what usually happened when two ruthless, ambitious, proper dragons both wanted the same thing. In fact, for all its frustrations, this whole morning had been remarkably bloodless, and now that he was finally away from his mother, that made Julius feel…not hopeful, exactly, but better than he had. It was obvious they still had a long way to go, but resolving differences through votes rather than violence was the entire reason he’d wanted a Council in the first place. He was wondering if it would be premature to call that a win when Conrad pushed off the wall.
“I’ll tell her David’s gone,” he said, placing a hand on the enormous Fang at his side. “I needed to coordinate with her anyway about all the dragons coming in, and you look like you’ve got your own problems.”
