It was this place, he realized, reaching up furtively to wipe the nervous sweat off his brow. Just looking at the gilded cave-turned-palace that was the Heartstriker’s seat of power brought back a lifetime of bad memories. It was here that he’d first had to prove to his mother that he could fly, jumping off the massive, open balcony at the room’s far end while Bethesda watched. He’d nearly crashed, too. Not because he was a bad flier—flying was actually the one part of being a dragon Julius had never had trouble with—but because his mother’s critical glare had made him trip all over himself. The throne room was also where she’d first singled him out for being a failure, calling him up to stand beside her on top of her throne in front of all his siblings so he could see the view he’d never earn. But bad as the old memories were, he had a sharper, far more recent reason to hate this place, because the throne room was where Bethesda had sealed his dragon form.
That was a night he never wanted to remember, but it was impossible not to think about it when he was standing on the threshold of the place where it had happened. Everywhere he looked—the massive throne on its dais, the walls set with gold and gemstone mosaics depicting his mother in all her feathered glory, the smooth stone floor with its numerous, tell-tale dark stains—reminded him viscerally of what he didn’t want to think about. Even just standing here in the doorway beside his mother, he could almost feel her claws in his flesh again as she dragged him up here from his room, but he couldn’t get away. He couldn’t even turn. So Julius did the only thing he could do. He looked up, staring determinedly over the heads of the terrifying crowd.
Since he’d always had his head down in his mother’s presence, the roof was the only part of her throne room that didn’t trigger flashbacks of events he’d rather not revisit. But even this wasn’t a completely safe strategy, because looking up meant that Julius was now staring straight at what he used to consider the scariest part of his mother’s trappings of power: the massive, bus-sized skull that hung suspended from the domed ceiling by enchanted chains.
Unlike the preserved, taxidermy dragon heads they’d walked past on their way here, this one was nothing but bleached bone. But despite its shabbiness, the huge skull was Bethesda’s greatest trophy, because it was the head of her father, the Quetzalcoatl, the ancient dragon whose death by her hand had earned Bethesda the title of Heartstriker. It also looked different than the last time he’d seen it.
At least that was enough to shock Julius out of his fear. The Quetzalcoatl’s skull was the Heartstrikers’ most priceless family heirloom. His mother didn’t allow it to be dusted, let alone messed with, but something was definitely different. He was staring harder, trying to put his finger on what, when a dragon broke from the crowd to approach the still preening Bethesda.
Not surprisingly given the purpose of this party, it was Ian. The dragon looked as impeccable as always in his slim-cut tux, but his expression was uncharacteristically nervous as he bowed low over Bethesda’s hand. “Mother.”
“Darling,” she cooed back, eying Ian like a rancher would her prized bull. “Where is your date?”
There was only one “date” Ian could possibly bring tonight, but Julius didn’t smell Svena, or any daughter of the Three Sisters, in the crowd, which explained why Ian’s face was now the color of his white tie. “She’s running a little late,” he said, his voice impressively smooth, considering.
Bethesda’s smile fell. “Late?”
The word came out like a dagger, making Julius flinch, and he wasn’t even the one it was aimed at. But Ian was the dragon’s dragon, and he took it with barely a grimace. “I’m given to understand she had some difficulties with her sister,” he said calmly. “She will be here soon.”
“She’d better be,” Bethesda growled, turning away with a sweep of her shiny black hair. “Since we’re being made to wait, I’m going to make my rounds,” she announced. “Ian, you’re with me. Julius, go find a corner and stand in it. When Svena deigns to grace us with her presence, return to my side. Otherwise, I don’t want to see so much as a—”
Bethesda’s voice cut off like a falling knife. Her body went still at the same time, freezing in place like someone had hit pause. At this point, Julius would have said it was impossible for him to be on higher alert than he already was, but apparently the sight of his mother freezing in her tracks was enough to jack his survival instincts to new heights. Time actually seemed to slow as his eyes flew over the crowded room, scanning the beautiful faces for the threat that could make Bethesda the Heartstriker stop in her tracks. In hindsight, he needn’t have bothered. Picking out the dragon who’d made Bethesda freeze was as easy as following his mother’s death glare.
In the far corner of the room, a dragoness in a crimson red dress was lounging against the mosaic-tiled wall, drinking what appeared to be a pint glass filled to the brim with whiskey. When she noticed Bethesda glaring, the dragoness lifted her glass like a salute. The whole interaction couldn’t have taken more than five seconds, but by the time she’d lowered her cup again, Bethesda had dismissed her existence completely, shoving her arm into Ian’s and marching into the crowd, her golden heels clicking angrily on the stone. Back on the steps, Julius was still trying to figure out what he’d just witnessed when a hand the size of a dinner plate landed on his shoulder.
“Move.”
The terrifying order made him forget all about the strange dragoness. He jumped, whirling around to see Conrad glaring down at him like he was daring Julius to disobey. Not wanting to lose the joint Conrad currently had a death grip on, Julius put his head down and obeyed, letting his hulk of a brother steer him along the wall until they reached the throne room’s inside corner. When they got there, Conrad took hold of both his shoulders and set Julius bodily against the wall and ordered, “Stay.”
“I’m not a dog,” Julius muttered, earning himself another deadly glare. “Right,” he amended, dropping his eyes. “Staying.”
Conrad nodded and turned away, resting his hand on the hilt of his massive sword as he walked back through the crowd toward Bethesda. But while it was amusing to watch the other dragons scurry out of Conrad’s way, with his scary brother gone, Julius realized he was now alone. Alone, in a giant room full of the cruelest, most ruthless dragons in his family, many of whom were now looking at him like he might be entertaining.
He squeezed himself into the corner, putting his back to two walls at once as he hunched his shoulders in an effort to look as inconspicuous as possible. Blending into the background was a defense he’d learned early in his life. Dragons exploited weakness as a matter of principle, but if you could get them to overlook you entirely, you had a chance. To that end, Julius focused on staying small, staying back, and most importantly, avoiding eye contact. Since the room was packed, this once again meant looking up, which, since it took up most of the ceiling, brought him right back to his grandfather’s skull.
Given the unspeakable, life-scarring things that usually happened in his mother’s throne room, he’d never actually gotten a chance to just stand and stare at what was left of the Quetzalcoatl, which was probably why he’d never noticed just how much the skull’s triangular, viper-like shape and curving front fangs resembled his own. Or, rather, Julius resembled him since the Quetzalcoatl was the original. As someone who’d always thought of his grandfather as more of a myth than an actual, historical figure, though, it was eye opening to see the physical proof that he actually was related to one of the most powerful dragons who’d ever lived, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. No matter how hard he stared, though, he couldn’t place it. He was about to dismiss the whole thing as paranoia when it finally hit him.
The Quetzalcoatl’s skull had an extra fang in its mouth.
His eyebrows flew up in surprise. Being so firmly at the bottom, Julius didn’t know much about the treasures of his clan, but every Heartstriker was taught how the clan’s greatest weapons, the five swords that made up the Fangs of the Heartstriker, had original
ly been actual fangs, as in teeth. Only one—the sixth—had been left in the Quetzalcoatl’s skull, supposedly as proof of the legendary weapons’ origins, though Julius didn’t buy that for a second. If the teeth really did become the Fangs of the Heartstriker, then there was no way Bethesda would leave one just hanging around as decoration if she had any other choice. Whatever the real reason was, though, the fact remained that Quetzalcoatl’s skull had had only one fang in its mouth for as long as Julius could remember. Now, there were two. The front two, specifically, curving from the skull’s top jaw like a pair of viper fangs.
Careful not to draw attention, Julius inched away from the wall to get a better look. Sure enough, the new tooth looked as natural and deeply embedded as the old one, but that couldn’t be right. There was no way a thousand-year-dead skull could just grow another tooth, so either his mother had decided after centuries to give her father dentures, or one of the Fangs of the Heartstriker wielders had died, and their sword had been returned to the skull to wait for its next carrier.
Both ideas were ridiculous. As his mother had pointed out, Julius wasn’t exactly up on Heartstriker current events, but there was no way he could’ve missed the death of a Fang. They were the biggest, baddest dragons in the clan, the closest thing Heartstriker had to lieutenants under Bethesda herself. But even as he was writing the idea off as absurd, it suddenly hit him that he hadn’t talked to Justin since the Pit.
Julius froze, heart pounding. No, that couldn’t be it. Justin was Mother’s baby. Chelsie could make his life miserable, but Bethesda would never let anything permanent happen…right?
He bit his lip, scrambling to think of someone, anyone else who might have lost a Fang in the last month. Conrad still had his, clearly, and though Julius didn’t see Chelsie in the crowd, he’d bet money she was fine. But other than the two Cs and Justin, Julius realized with a start that he didn’t actually know who had the final two Fangs.
That was just absurd. The Fangs were famous. Justin had never shut up about the stupid things. But no matter how hard Julius thought, he couldn’t name more than three, which was a red flag that the identities of the final two Fangs were most likely yet another family secret he wasn’t important enough to know. But while that was annoying, it also meant that the new tooth in the Quetzalcoatl’s head could be one of the secret Fangs, which would mean Justin was just fine! But…if that was the case, why wasn’t Justin here?
Julius glanced back at the crowd, sniffing the air, just in case, but it didn’t change what he already knew. The party for Svena was a Who’s Who of Heartstriker. Just in his immediate vicinity, Julius saw David Heartstriker, the six-term Senator from New Mexico and only dragon ever elected to the US Congress, talking with Edmund, the Heartstriker’s official liaison to China, and at least three other Heartstrikers that, while Julius didn’t know their names by sight, were all obviously Es or higher. But though an event like this practically demanded the presence of a Knight of the Mountain, Julius couldn’t see or smell any trace of his brother, and the more he thought about that, the more worried he became. He was about to try just calling Justin and asking when someone grabbed him from the side.
Julius yelped in surprise, arms flailing to catch his balance as his unknown assailant yanked him back into the corner.
“Stop that pathetic noise,” Ian growled, glancing over his shoulder. “Do you want to draw everyone’s attention?”
“Maybe if you wouldn’t sneak up on me, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Julius hissed back, clinging to the wall as he tried to calm his hammering heart. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Mother?”
“I left her with a gaggle of Gs,” he said flippantly. “Ambitious ones. That should keep her busy for at least five minutes, and I needed to talk to you alone.”
Julius paled. “Alone?”
“It’s not my first choice, either,” Ian said, his neon green eyes sharp and worried. “But these are desperate times. Have you talked to Katya?”
“Not today,” Julius said, confused and more than a little worried. “Why? Isn’t she with Svena?”
“Do you think I’d stoop to asking you if I knew that?” Ian snapped, glancing over his shoulder again at Bethesda, who was standing in the center of a group of nearly identical-looking dragonesses. “Seeing how Mother used your name to tie this entire mess together, I assumed you’d already tried to call and apologize or some other nonsense, but it seems you can’t even manage that.”
Julius looked down, suddenly ashamed. Not because of his brother’s insult, but because warning Katya hadn’t even occurred to him until Ian said it. “I’ll call her right now.”
“It’s too late for that. This entire situation is a fiasco.” Ian raised his hand, pinching his fingers together in the air just in front of Julius’s nose. “I was this close to convincing Svena to throw in with me on her own,” he growled. “This close, Julius. Then Mother got impatient and decided to throw this monstrosity of a party, and now I’m high and dry without a prayer.” He bared his teeth. “If Svena walks into this mess thinking I was involved, all the work I’ve put into building her trust will be utterly ruined!”
For the first time in his life, Julius felt real sympathy for his brother. He might not be playing anywhere near Ian’s level, but he knew what it felt like to have Bethesda stomp all over your plans. “So why don’t you call and warn her?”
“You think I haven’t tried?” Ian said, looking more worried than ever. “I was planning to take her to lunch on a yacht this afternoon precisely so we could have a mechanical failure that would excuse our not showing up tonight, but she wasn’t at the apartment when she said she’d be, and she hasn’t answered her phone all day.”
“Maybe she was busy with her family?” Julius suggested. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable—”
“No, there’s not,” Ian said sharply. “I know Svena. She’s organized to a fault. If she says she’s going to be somewhere, she’ll either be there, or she’ll do something to make sure you know that her absence is on purpose to put you in her place. She never just doesn’t show up.” He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair with what seemed to be real worry. “I don’t know if something else is wrong or if she got wind of this ridiculousness early and has already cut ties. I was hoping you, with your absurd knack for ingratiating yourself to larger dragons, would have had better luck, but you haven’t even tried yet.” He glared at Julius in supreme disappointment. “It appears you’re even less bold than I gave you credit for.”
“I didn’t know this was happening until fifteen minutes ago!” Julius said frantically. “And when I did find out, Mother was right there. What was I supposed to do?”
At the mention of Bethesda, both dragons looked her direction to see their mother coldly detaching herself from her clinging daughters. “I have to go,” Ian growled. “Thanks for nothing.”
“Wait!” Julius said, grabbing his brother’s perfectly tailored sleeve. “Do you know why there are two fangs in grandfather’s skull?”
Ian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why do you care?”
An honest answer to that would reveal more of himself than Julius was willing to show a cut-throat dragon like Ian, so he went with a half-truth instead. “I’m just curious, and you know everything that goes on.”
His brother rolled his eyes at the obvious flattery, but to Julius’s great surprise, he answered. “Mother took Justin’s Fang.”
Julius gasped, and Ian shook his head in disgust. “How can you possibly be surprised by this? Your idiot brother turned into a dragon inside the DFZ Underground. What did you think was going to happen?”
“But,” Julius said. “He’s Bethesda’s favorite.”
“Bethesda’s favor is fickle and doesn’t extend to morons who make her look bad,” Ian reminded him, yanking his sleeve out of Julius’s grasp with a haughty look.
Julius cringed. It wasn’t that Ian’s words had actually surprised him, just that he’d been really really hop
ing they weren’t true. True, Justin had broken some pretty big rules when he’d turned into a dragon in the Pit, but he’d done it to save them, and Katya. Julius might have the life debt, but Katya wouldn’t have been alive to grant it if Justin hadn’t done what he’d done. And sure, maybe he’d gone too far, but being a Knight and wielding the Fang of the Heartstriker was Justin’s entire life. It was his great dream, the goal he’d worked their entire childhood to achieve. Taking that away, especially for something that had actually helped the clan, just felt unnecessarily cruel. “I hope he’s not taking it too badly.”
“Justin?” Ian scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. He’s taking it exactly as badly as you’d expect. But that’s none of our business, and we have far more important things to worry about than Mr. Ex-Fifth Blade’s hurt feelings.” He glanced back at Bethesda, who was now glaring at them from across the crowd. “I have to go deal with her,” he said quickly. “Call Katya and let me know the instant you find anything.”
“But you just said not to bother,” Julius reminded him.
“I know,” Ian said as he strode off. “But you’re a sentimental fool who’ll do it anyway, so I might as well get something out of it.”
Now that was just uncalled for, but as much as Julius wanted to do nothing just to spite him, Ian was right. Worried as he was about Justin, he’d lost his Fang a month ago. Katya’s crisis, on the other hand, was going down right now. As her friend and part of the reason this was happening at all, it was Julius’s duty to warn her as soon as possible. But when he dug his phone out and hit her number, the call instantly came back as disconnected.
He tried two more times with the same result, and a cold weight started to form in his stomach. Logically, he knew there were plenty of perfectly benign reasons why Katya’s number would be disconnected, but none of them could chase away the feeling that something was very, very wrong. When Ross, Katya’s crocodile shaman boyfriend, also failed to pick up, the feeling became dead certainty.