“No, I mean you lookgood,” his brother said, stalking in a circle around Julius. “Like an actual, legit dragon.” He breathed in deep. “You don’t even smell like a loser anymore! Who worked that miracle?”
“Fredrick,” Julius said, reminding himself to take the compliment as it was meant rather than as his brother had mangled it. “This is all his work. I just stood here.”
Justin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Fredrick? You’ve got anFnow, too? I’ve been trying to convince Mother to give me one forever!” He scowled. “Maybe Ishouldhave taken the Council job.”
“No, you’re definitely better off where you are,” Julius said, repressing a shudder at the thought of his bull of a brother raging through the china shop that had been this morning’s negotiations. “And I didn’t ‘get’ an F. He’s just helping me.”
“Right,” Justin said, rolling his eyes. “Just like Whatshername’s not actually your mortal.”
There were more wrong-headed ideas to unpack in that statement than Julius could handle in the few minutes they had left, so he banked the comment for later and changed the subject. “You look nice, too,” he said, looking his brother up and down.
Like him, Justin was dressed like a warrior, but a far more practical, modern version. Though his armor was clearly modeled after Julius’s ancient costume, it was made of black tactical Kevlar and ballistic-grade steel plating rather than gold and feathers. His short, black hair was slicked back behind a military-grade Augmented Reality headset, and his back was completely taken up by his enormous Fang of the Heartstriker, which he wore with the wrapped hilt belted prominently high over his shoulder for easy access.
Together, the combination was somewhere between high tech mercenary and fantasy swordsman, which explained why Justin looked so happy wearing it. But while Julius appreciated the visit, he wasn’t actually sure why Justin was back here with him.
“I thought we were meeting in the throne room?”
“Everyoneelseis meeting in the throne room,” Justin said haughtily. “Which is why I’m here. As your knight, it’s my job to escort you.”
Julius blinked. “My what?”
“Your knight,” his brother repeated. “You know, your bodyguard, like Conrad is for mother. I’ve wanted the job forever, but I thought I’d have to wait until Conrad died to get it, and fat chance of that happening. Now, though, we’ve got two clan heads!” He grinned wide. “Problem solved.”
“Not to rain on your parade, but I’m not a clan head,” Julius reminded him. “I’m on the Council, and only for five years. I don’t need a knight.”
“Ofcourseyou need a knight,” Justin said. “Have you been downstairs recently? Every Heartstriker in the world is crammed into this mountain like sardines, and they’re all in a bad mood. You couldn’t even run a pest-control business in the DFZ without getting in mortal danger every other week. Do you really expect me to believe you can handle all those dragons by yourself?” He snorted. “You wouldn’t last ten seconds.”
That was true enough, but, “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Julius said again. “I’ve got this, remember?” He dropped his hand to his own Fang of the Heartstriker, which Fredrick had tied prominently to his waist. “It’ll freeze anyone in the family the moment they even think of hurting me or anyone else.”
“Only if you’re touching it,” his brother snapped. “And it doesn’t do squat against threats that aren’t Heartstrikers.” He shook his head. “You’re about to become important, Julius, which is just another word for target. Unless you’re willing to keep a death grip on your sword twenty-four/seven, you need backup, and that means me.” He grinned. “Face it, little brother. I’m doing this for your own good.”
More like his own ego. But while Julius was sure Justin had come up with this knight idea purely so that he had a reason to stand around looking scary and important like his idol, Conrad, he also couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit touched. Selfish or not, Justin’s offer of protection was a huge display of support, and as Julius was beginning to understand, those were never to be taken lightly. He still didn’t think a knight was necessary—he didn’t fully understand his Fang’s abilities yet, though stopping Bethesda from attacking Svena this morning had done a lot for his confidence—but knowing Justin had his back was comforting in a way that had nothing to do with actual physical security, and he found himself grinning right back.
“Thanks, Justin.”
His brother nodded. “I’ll add it to your tab. We needed to start a new one anyway since I blew all your old debts on the DFZ business.”
“Well, fingers crossed you won’t have to do anything,” Julius said. “I—”
“What do you mean won’t have to do anything?” Justin cried. “I’m praying for someone to try and kill you so I can kick his butt in front of the whole clan. The stories about me toe-to-toeing it with Conrad in the throne room are a good start, but everyone knows he was under Estella’s control at the time. A public duel is exactly what I need to shore up my reputation after that sword confiscating nonsense last week.”
“No one’s going to try to kill me,” Julius said firmly. “Intimidate, sure, but notkill. The whole point of this new election system is to make it so no one has to kill anyone else for power anymore. All they’d gain by killing me is that one of you would have to take my seat as a Fang, and no self-respecting, power-hungry dragon is going to bother with murder just for that.”
“Except for the part where most self-respecting, power-hungry dragons don’t consider murder a bother,” Justin growled. “You’re trying to change things. For those who like things the way Bethesda had them, that makes you a nuisance, and nuisances get swatted.”
That was truer than Julius wanted to admit, but he refused to take back what he’d said. Firstly, until the Council was actually complete, Bethesda’s “No one kills Heartstrikers except for Chelsie and myself” rule was still in effect. Good thing, too. Half the clan would have been dead by now if they hadn’t been more afraid of Chelsie than they’d hated each other. But even though it wasn’t yet operational, Julius already believed the new Council would make all of that irrelevant. Why risk Chelsie’s wrath by killing your sibling when you could simply vote your way into power? Or, if you couldn’t win yourself, use your vote to bind the allegiance of the dragon who could? He harbored no illusions about a fair election—they were still dragons, after all—but at least the vote selling and blatant cronyism would remove the pressure to actuallykillthe competition, which meant no one would have to die anymore.
Given the violence that normally went on inside his clan, Julius was ready to call that a win. Before any of these peaceable-dragon-kingdom daydreams could happen, though, they had to make this first vote work. He was about to suggest to Justin they head out to do just that when the door burst open and their mother exploded into the room.
Julius and Justin stepped back in unison. Bethesda the Heartstriker always knew how to make an entrance, but she’d out-done herself today. Like Julius, she was dressed in the traditional Mesoamerican garb of the original Heartstriker’s court, but where Julius was wearing an authentic antique, Bethesda was dressed like a golden goddess. Literally.
Every inch of her body—from the ridges of her ears to the tips of her toes to the fringe of her eyelashes—was covered in gold. Gold jewelry, gold leaf, gold paste, gold powder on her skin, gold everything. Her torso was crisscrossed with so many golden cords and chains, Julius wasn’t actually sure if she was wearing a dress or if it was gold all the way down. Even her face was coated in the stuff, making her hard green eyes glitter like the emeralds they were so often compared to. She was even wearing a feathered headdress that matched Julius’s, though the indigo plumes in hers were from her own tail.
She’d clearly been on the verge of hissing something at them when she’d entered, probably to rebuke Julius for being late. Whatever it was, though, it died on her lips, because the moment she saw her youngest child, Bethesda the Heartstriker stopped cold.
For nearly a minute, no one said a word. They all just stood there: Justin waiting, Julius shifting nervously, and Bethesda standing there with her mouth open like she’d never seen a dragon before. “Where did you get that?” she said at last, her green eyes locked on the rainbow feathers that spilled down behind Julius like a waterfall.
For a heartbeat, Julius considered lying and saying it had all been his idea before he remembered he couldn’t. Now that he knew the truth about the green eyes, lying to Bethesda was a waste of everyone’s time. He didn’t want to lie and hide what he was doing, anyway, and he was beyond sick of tiptoeing around his mother’s temper. So, he didn’t. He just looked her in the face and told her the truth.
