He grabbed Julius’s shoulder, his fingers digging in like claws. “There are someidiotswho say Julius’s Council is not draconic. That a fair contest between dragons is somehow contrary to our nature and our pride. But we know better. We know that the measure of a dragon’s worth is not his fire nor his size nor any other power that comes with merely surviving to a ripe old age. Any fool can hide in a cave for a few centuries and grow big, but it takes a real dragon, anaudaciousdragon, to rise to power with only what’s up here.” He tapped his free hand against the side of his head. “Intelligence, cunning, the ability to plot—theseare the traits that make us powerful, and they have nothing to do with age.”
All around the room, heads were nodding, and Ian moved in for the kill. “Conquest is no longer done on the wing. The time of fire is over. Today, the truly powerful dragons are the ones who understand how to use and manipulate human systems. How to cultivate the money, power, and connections that make this modern world turn. Under the old system, these traits were secondary to a letter at the start of our names,but”—he grinned down at Julius—“by creating a Council that’s decided by vote, our brother hasfinallycut us a path to the top. We don’t need age, we don’t need fire, we don’t need to fight and kill and claw for power like animals. All we need is what we younger dragons have always had in excess: our cunning and the audacity to use it. For years, we’ve allowed Bethesda to turn that power against us, playing us off each other so we’d never become powerful enough to turn againsther. Now, though, that’s changed. Now, without spilling a drop of blood, we can finally take control ofourclan.”
A few of the Js began to clap, but Ian wasn’t finished. “This is our chance!” he said again, louder this time. “In one fell swoop, Julius has cast away years of favoritism to create an even playing field. If we use our heads and work together instead of allowing Bethesda to turn us against each other, we can take what should always have been ours.Power.Power to rule, power to undo years of mismanagement where the greatest assets of our clan—us,the younger dragons with the modern understanding required to thrive in a modern world—were ignored. That is the opening Julius has given us, and I intend to leverage it to the fullest extent.”
By the time he finished, the whole room was buzzing. Julius, however, was in a state of shock, because Ian was saying exactly what he’d said when he’d first pitched the Council to Bob and the others. True, it sounded like Ian had run Julius’s ideas through an evil overlord filter what with the new focus on power and taking, but at its heart, his message was the same one Julius had been pushing all along: a peaceful transition of power, the end of might-makes-right-rule, and a chance for all Heartstrikers to have a say in the leadership of their own clan. That was what he’d been fighting for thiswhole time, and after so long feeling like he was talking to himself, hearing those same ideas coming out of Ian’s mouth was nothing short of extraordinary, though not nearly as extraordinary as seeing an entire room of dragons agreeing with them.
Well, almost an entire room.
“Isn’t this a little premature?” one of the Hs from the table by the far windows asked, eyeing Ian skeptically over the rim of his mimosa. “You burned a lot of favors to fill this room, Ian, but even if we all decided to throw our lots in with yours, you still wouldn’t have enough votes to beat David.”
“But Iwill,” Ian said firmly. “David’s a career politician. But while he can sound like a good candidate, we all know the first thing he’ll do if he gets on the Council is work with Bethesda to dissolve it.”
“But he can’t.”
It wasn’t until Ian’s head snapped toward him that Julius realized he’d spoken aloud. “Um,” he said, face turning red. “That is, the Council can’t be dissolved. We all signed a contract that binds us to the new system where the Council is the clan head. It can’t be reverted.”
“True,” Ian agreed. “But I’ve read that same contract five times now, and it clearly gives Bethesda’s power in total to the Council. This means the Council’s votes carry the same magical weight as a clan head’s edicts, but if it’s a two-to-one vote, what’s to stop David and Mother from ganging up on you and simply voting things back to the way they were?”
Julius opened his mouth only to close it again. “Nothing,” he admitted at last. “There’s nothing.”
“Precisely,” Ian said, turning back to the crowd. “Why would a dragon like David, who’s already a D and a favorite of Bethesda, fight so hard for power he’ll just have to give up when the next election happens in five years? He has no motivation, no reason to keep this road open for anyone other than himself, because he already has what he wants. I bet he and Bethesda have already conspired to give him Amelia’s old position as heir in return for his help in reverting the clan back to her.”
There was absolutely no proof of that, but Julius found it too easy to believe.
“What’s to keep you from doing the same?” another dragon yelled. “How do we know you’re not working with Bethesda?”
“Because she would never have me,” Ian said plainly. “I’m like you, one of the lower alphabet. Bethesda was happy to use me because I was effective, but she would never welcome me to the top. That, I had to fight for, and that’s what I’m doing now. Fighting.” He clenched his fists. “This Council is the best thing that’s ever happened to dragons like us. Julius is on our side, but if Bethesda gets one of her cronies into the final seat, he’ll be outvoted. But if we can get one of our own into this critical first Council, Julius and I can work together to make new laws that will bind Bethesda’s hands, making sure she can never block our road to power again.”
That raised another cheer from the Js, but the older dragons in the back still didn’t look convinced.
“Maybe it would be for the better if things went back,” one of them, a tired-looking female, said. “I don’t like serving Bethesda any more than you do, but at least things worked under her. All we’ve had since this voting nonsense began is chaos. Do you know how much money just being here has cost me already?”
“Change costs money,” Ian snapped. “Deal with it.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped back, pointing at Julius. “I was talking to him.” She glowered at her youngest brother. “This is all your fault. I only came because Ian said you’d be here, so spit it out. What are you going to do for us?”
Julius’s heart began to pound. He looked to Ian for help, but his brother just dragged him to his feet, turning him so he was facing the crowd. It was less than half the size of the mob he’d faced in the throne room yesterday, but Ian’s group was somehow even more terrifying, probably because Julius actually knew most of the dragons here as ones who’d tormented him in the past. Now, though, they were just staring at him, waiting to be impressed. He was still trying to get over the anxiety of that when Julius suddenly realized what it meant.
“I don’t know if what Ian said about David dissolving the Council is true,” he got out at last. “But if it is, I’ll do everything I can to stop him. Not because the Council was my idea, but because just trying to have one has already changed our clan for the better. Just look at us.” He waved his arms over the crowd. “When was the last time we were all together in one room without Mother forcing us to be there? When was the last time we got together and had a discussion without trying to kill each other? I can tell you: never. This hasneverhappened before, and the fact it’s happeningnowis proof that the Council is a good thing for all of us. Yes, it’s disruptive, but so were Bethesda’s plots, and unlike those, my Council doesn’t cost lives.” He looked straight at the H who’d challenged. “How many of your siblings has Mother killed over the years trying to build her power?”
Her silence was answer enough, and Julius moved on. “We’ve all lost siblings to Bethesda’s selfish ambitions, and the only reason we’ve never spoken out about it is because we were all afraid we’d be next. So we kept our heads down and focused on our own schemes, usually against each other. But that’s not a clan, is it? You say ‘at least things worked under Bethesda,’ but theydidn’t. We were never moving forward or getting better. We were just wiggling under her boot. The only reason we functioned at all is because Mother kept us too afraid to do anything else. But that’s not how it has to be anymore.”
He looked back to the H. “You asked what I’m going to do for you. How about not being terrified of your own family anymore? How about actually knowing the rules instead of just trying to guess what Bethesda’s decided is a killing offense today?That’swhat I’m after, and the fact that we’re all in here talking about it instead of cowering in our respective corners, waiting for Bethesda to use us against each other, is a pretty clear sign that it’s already working.” He pointed at Ian. “I’m not here to support Ian. I’m here to support the process. Vote for whomever you want. Just remember that the reason you have that power is because we—Justin and I and Marci and Chelsie and Bob and everyone else—fought to make this Council happen. Thisisa once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change things for the better, and I’m really happy that Ian is fighting for it, too.”
He sat down when he finished, chest heaving as he braced for backlash. That was a lot more than a small dragon like him was wise to say to a crowd of larger ones, especially without the Quetzalcoatl’s power to back him up. Way he saw it, being booed out of the room was the best he could hope for, but to his amazement, that didn’t happen. The H just nodded like her question had been answered, smiling at him a little from her seat in the back. Several of the dragons were smiling now. Particularly Ian, who was grinning down at his youngest brother like a cat in a canary preserve, despite Julius specificallynotendorsing him.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said, getting his smile under control before turning back to the crowd. “I burned every favor I had outstanding to gather you all today. I did this not because I was desperate, but because I believe that if you’re not using everything you have to win, you don’t really want it. And I want this. I want Heartstriker to change, and if your name starts with anything lower than a D, you do too. Bethesda will only fall once. This is our chance, ouronlychance, to turn that to our advantage. So if you don’t want to see all of this potential go to waste—if you don’t want to spend the next thousand years under David and Bethesda’s thumbs—you know what to do. Go out and tell the others what Julius and I have said. Call in favors, get them on our side, get us the majority we need before the vote tomorrow, or I won’t be the one who loses. It’ll be all of us, and it’ll be for good.”
The room was silent by the time he finished. Then, like some secret signal had been given, all the non-J dragons got up and left. They didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Ian or Julius. They just walked out, breaking into threes and pairs as they filed down the hall toward the elevators.
“Oh boy,” Julius said with a ragged breath. “That didn’t go well.”
“What are you talking about?” Ian said, sitting back down with a grin. “That went amazingly.”
Julius looked at him like he was crazy. “They walked out.”
“Yes,” Ian said. “Without saying no or laughing in our faces or demanding we pay for their assistance. They just left, which is as close to an unequivocalyesas dragons get.”
