One Good Dragon Deserves Another (Heartstrikers Book 2) Read online

  Julius hunched over his phone, pulling up his contacts as he counted out his strategies. Now that he was sure something was wrong, there were plenty of other contacts he could call to try and find out what. Unfortunately, his talk with Ian had drawn some curious stares, undermining his plan to stay beneath the room’s notice. The general population of Heartstriker might not yet know about his connection to Katya, but Ian was the dragon of the hour. If he’d come over to talk to Julius, others would follow soon enough to find out why.

  Just the possibility of that kind of attention was threatening enough to overcome even his fear of Conrad. The clan champion could give orders all he liked. Julius wasn’t going to stand around and let himself be cornered. So, sucking in all his courage, he composed his face in what he hoped was a purposeful look and set off across the throne room to find a place where he could make his phone calls without being watched by a peanut gallery of predators.

  He had several options. Despite (or perhaps because of) its size and grandeur, the Heartstriker throne room had several hidden hallways branching off it to connect the enormous room with other parts of the mountain’s upper infrastructure. Unfortunately, being the obvious out-of-the-way places meant that all of the side halls were already full of dragons gossiping in secret. In the end, the only place connected to the throne room that wasn’t infested with Heartstrikers was the balcony.

  Jutting out a good thirty feet from the side of Heartstriker Mountain, the throne room balcony served more as a landing pad than anywhere you’d actually want to stand. There was no railing, no windbreak, no consideration of any sort for those who couldn’t fly. Just a half-moon disk of smooth, reinforced rock and the night wind howling up from the desert below. But terrifying as it was to stand on the edge of what was essentially a cliff several hundred feet in the air, the balcony—with its strong winds and dusty air—was fashion suicide for the perfectly coiffed and dressed dragons. That made it the safest spot in the throne room by Julius’s standards, especially once he found the spot where the balcony edge overlapped the side of the mountain, creating a hidden nook where—if you flattened yourself against the rock—no one inside the throne room could see you without risking walking into the wind.

  Given the obvious money spent on hair and make-up for the crowd behind him, this was as close as Julius was ever going to get to actual privacy, and he collapsed against the stone with a sigh of relief. The mountain’s face was digging sharply into his back and the night wind was blasting and cold, but none of that mattered. The ledge was still by far the most comfortable place Julius had found since the moment he’d walked in to see his mother sitting on his couch. He was pulling out his phone again to call one of Ross’s shaman circle buddies and ask if she knew anything when an unfamiliar scent drifted by on the wind.

  Julius clenched his fists with a curse. Seriously, could he not get five minutes to himself in this stupid mountain? Was that too much to ask? He didn’t even know what the scent was, but after a night of nasty surprises, he wasn’t taking any chances. He just pressed his back harder into the mountain and breathed deep, sorting through the expected scents of desert and dragon for the one that didn’t belong.

  And that was where things got weird, because even though Julius found the scent again easily, he still had no idea what he was smelling. He wasn’t even sure how to describe it. The best he could say was that it smelled very strongly of nothing. He was trying to decide what that meant, exactly, when someone laughed above him

  Julius jumped like he’d been shot, almost falling off the mountain. He caught himself at the last second, grabbing the wall behind him and craning his head back to see a dragoness he didn’t recognize perched on a tiny irregularity in the stone mountainside directly above him. She waved when she saw him looking and hopped down, taking the eight-foot drop like it was nothing, but it wasn’t until she landed beside him on the narrow ledge that Julius realized he did actually recognize her.

  It was the dragoness in the red dress. The one who’d made his mother freeze.

  Sweat began to bead on his neck. The strange dragoness was as tall as Bethesda with the same imposing, statuesque build, but that was where the similarities stopped. Where his mother was painfully fashionable, this dragoness’s knee-length, crimson A-line dress was at least a century out of date. Likewise, her hair was almost comically bad: a nest of wildly uneven black braids that looked like she’d done them herself in the dark. But while all of this was a clear sign that he was dealing with a very odd dragon indeed, what really got him was the fact that her eyes were a light hazel brown.

  This wasn’t to say they weren’t beautiful. She was a dragon in her human guise; everything about her was beautiful. But in a supposedly exclusive Heartstriker gathering, the lack of the iconic green eyes was as good as a billboard that she didn’t belong. Julius was thrashing his brain to figure out who in the world she could be when the dragoness suddenly laughed.

  “Easy, Tiger,” she said, leaning against the wall beside him. “I’m not going to turn you in. I’m out here hiding myself.”

  That was probably the one thing Julius hadn’t been worried about, though it was surprisingly thoughtful of her to say. Still, the thought of hiding out with a strange dragon Bethesda apparently hated wasn’t exactly comforting, especially since his mother had to know they were out here. He wasn’t actually sure why Bethesda hadn’t done something about that already. She didn’t normally tolerate interlopers on her mountain. He was trying to think of a way to just ask the dragon what was going on without being unforgivably rude when the dragon turned to dig down into the ancient, burn-marked leather bag she carried slung over her shoulder.

  “Here,” she said, holding something out.

  He looked down in surprise to see a dented metal flask in her outstretched hand. “What is that?”

  “A drink,” she replied with a grin. “You look like you could use one.”

  Julius had never seen the point of drinking. Dragon metabolism wasn’t compatible with alcohol unless you were willing to down barrels of the stuff, and surely no one drank liquor for the taste. He definitely didn’t feel like drinking something out of a metal flask from a stranger. On the other hand, though, refusing a gift was a terrible insult, and the open flask didn’t smell like anything bad. Well, anything worse than liquor.

  In the end, Julius decided he’d better take it. Strange as she looked, the dragoness was the only one who hadn’t started a conversation by insulting or demeaning him tonight. It would be a shame to insult her. Plus, given the way his mother had reacted, she was probably pretty powerful. Way too far above him to bother with poison in any case, especially when she could just punch him off the mountain. So, before he could chicken out, Julius took the flask with a nod of thanks. Keeping his eyes on hers, he lifted it to his mouth for a tiny sip…and nearly choked.

  “What is that?” he sputtered, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand in a futile effort to stop the burning.

  It took several seconds for the dragoness to stop laughing long enough to answer. “Whiskey cut with hydra venom,” she said finally, wiping her eyes. “My own recipe.” She started giggling again. “The look on your face…”

  Julius watched in horror as she took the flask back and tipped it up to her own mouth for a long swig, drinking several swallows before lowering it with a satisfied sigh. “So,” she said conversationally, tucking the flask back into her leather sack. “Which one are you?”

  That would have been a strange question anywhere else, but Julius was far below most dragons’ notice, and Bethesda had a lot of children. “I’m Julius.”

  “Julius?” she repeated, eyes going wide. “We’re on J now?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, trying to feel out if that was a joke or not. He’d never expect any dragon, family or otherwise, to know his name, but which clutch Bethesda was on was public knowledge. The dragon, however, looked truly flummoxed.

  “No wonder you look so little,” she said, still gawki
ng at him. “What are you, fifteen?”

  “I’m twenty-four,” Julius said, trying not to sound defensive.

  The dragoness shrugged. “Same difference. You’re adorable, whatever you are.” Her hand shot out to ruffle his hair. “I always forget how cute you little whelps can be. Do you still have your baby fluff?”

  “I lost that on my first molt.” Fifteen years ago, he added to himself as he dodged out from under her hand. “But thank you.”

  She stared at him blankly. “What?”

  “Thank you,” he said again, pronouncing it clearly this time just in case English wasn’t her strongest language. There was always the chance she really was surprised by his thanks since it wasn’t something dragons said often, but he was far more inclined to believe she was toying with him. He was trying to think up a safe, polite way to get away from this conversation and into a better hiding spot when her face lit up.

  “Wait, I know who you are!” she cried. “You’re the one Brohomir was going on about. The nice one.”

  The mention of Bob’s name made Julius pause, and the dragoness clapped her hands in delight. “I knew it! No one else would be so polite for no reason. Go on, then. Do it.”

  He blinked. “Do what?”

  “Say something nice.”

  Now he knew she was messing with him. Still, if Bob was involved, there was a chance this might be important, so Julius sucked it up and played along. “Um, thank you for sharing your drink with me. It’s not really my taste, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “Oh, you’re good,” she said, giving him a wink. “Tugging at my heartstrings with your adorable baby face and building up camaraderie while still making it sound all sincere and humble.” She whistled. “Very pro.”

  Julius frowned. When she put it that way, he sounded horribly manipulative. “But I wasn’t—”

  “I know,” she said. “That’s what makes it work.” She smiled again. “Well, if you’re going to have manners, I suppose I need them too.” She stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, baby J. I’m your sister, Amelia.”

  Julius’s breath caught so fast he almost choked. “Amelia?” he squeaked out. “A-melia?”

  She nodded.

  “B-but,” he sputtered. “Your eyes. I mean—”

  “It throws everyone,” his sister said with a shrug. “Let’s just say Mother hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the whole egg-laying-factory thing yet with our set. She was only ninety-nine when I hatched, you know.”

  He did know, but knowing and actually meeting a dragon from Bethesda’s first clutch were two very different things. “You’re the oldest daughter of Bethesda,” he said, eyes wide. “The last surviving A.”

  “Heir to the Heartstrikers,” she continued for him. “The Planeswalker, Clan Magus, and Consort to the Concept of Mountains.” She sighed. “Just between us, though, that last one’s a wash. The Concept of Mountains and I broke up two years ago. He just wasn’t going anywhere.”

  From anyone else, Julius would have thought that was a joke. Amelia looked serious, though, so he played it straight. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It was inevitable,” she said. “Have you ever tried having a relationship with a conceptual entity who exists simultaneously on multiple planes? Communication issues doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  She said all this casually, but Julius could only stare at her in wonder. “So there really are higher planes?”

  Amelia nodded. “Higher, lower, outer, side to side, though the term ‘plane’ isn’t really accurate. The other realms aren’t flat, two-dimensional fields. They’re independent realities that bump up against our own. Think of it like a bunch of balloons caught together in a net. Some are as large as our own, others are smaller than this balcony, but each one has its own boundaries, rules, and magic. Plus, they’re infinite as far as anyone knows, which means you never run out of new places to visit.”

  “So you’ve been to other worlds?”

  “That would be the Planeswalker part of my name-tag,” she said proudly. “Honestly, though, getting in is the easy part. Anyone with enough power and leverage can brute force their way into another plane. Navigating safely once you’re inside, though? Veeeeeery tricky. You never know if you’re going to open a portal into a world of liquid methane or the surface of someone else’s sun, not to mention you can lose your home reality forever if you don’t take care to leave a good path back.”

  “Or have a Kosmolabe,” Julius said excitedly. “My mage always said hers could be used to navigate the outer planes.”

  Amelia went very still. “Your mage has a Kosmolabe?”

  Julius bit his tongue. That had been a stupid, stupid thing to say. Talking to Amelia had been so easy, he’d let himself forget what she was: a powerful dragon who, thanks to him, had just discovered something she wanted.

  “Had,” he said quickly. “She had one, but only for a few days before it was lost.”

  Amelia gave him a skeptical look. “That’s too bad,” she said slowly, looking down at the dark desert. “Kosmolabes are incredibly useful, and, from what I can tell, unique to human sorcery. Anyone can use them, but their creation seems to hinge on the human ability to push magic around. I should know, too. I spent the better part of a century trying to fix a broken one.” She turned back to him. “So do you still have this mage?”

  Julius was sorely tempted to lie. Friendly as she seemed, he didn’t like his eldest sister’s interest in Marci one bit. Dragons, especially old ones, tended to view humans like pets you could just trade around. But lying to an ancient, extremely magical dragon was a bad, bad idea. In the end, he decided to stick to the truth, albeit through the worst possible interpretation.

  “She still works for me, yes, but she’s very young,” he said apologetically. “She got the Kosmolabe by accident and lost it just as quickly. I’m afraid she wouldn’t be much use to you.”

  His sister looked horribly disappointed, and Julius fought the urge to take it all back, if only so Marci would never find out he’d ruined her chance to meet an ancient dragon mage. Sorry, Marci.

  “More’s the pity,” Amelia said with a sigh. “I love humans. They’re so much more open-minded than dragons. I was delighted when I heard they finally got their magic back. The last time I was here, it looked like things would be locked up forever.”

  He couldn’t have heard that right. “You’ve been out in other planes since before the meteor hit and brought back magic?”

  Amelia nodded. “I actually wasn’t planning on coming home for another half-century, but Brohomir’s pigeon said it was dreadfully important, so here I am.”

  Well, Julius thought, at least that explained why he’d never seen Amelia before. She’d been outside this realm of existence since before he was born. He was still trying to wrap his brain around that when he realized what else she’d said. “Wait, Bob’s pigeon can talk?”

  “Of course she can talk,” Amelia said, glancing over her shoulder at the glow of the throne room behind them. “Though she didn’t say anything about how boring it would be. From what I can tell, this whole party’s nothing but an elaborate mouse trap for the White Witch.” She snorted. “Talk about a waste of time. Why anyone would want to do anything with Ice Queen Svena is beyond me. She’s obnoxious.”

  Julius blinked in surprise. “You know Svena?”

  “Nearly lost my tail to her three hundred years ago,” Amelia huffed. “Of course, I’d already taken off one of her wings at the time. I’d have had the other one, too, if she hadn’t kicked me into that mountain.” She chuckled wistfully, lost in the memory. “Really, though, you can pretty much count on every dragon over a thousand knowing each other at least by name. That’s the part about immortality they don’t tell you: live long enough, and attrition makes your pool of acquaintances pretty shallow. Svena and I have a special bond, though. We’ve been the only two dragon mages worth the title since Imotella the Undying made her name hilariously ironic in the 1400s.”<
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  “But,” Julius said, confused. “I thought the Three Sisters had been our enemies forever?”

  “Oh, we try to kill each other whenever we can,” Amelia said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re uncivil about it. Sometimes it’s fun to call a temporary truce and go out drinking. We’re the only two dragons left who know enough to actually appreciate each other’s work. Besides, when you’ve kicked around as long as we have, the difference between an ancient enemy and an old friend is just a matter of perspective.”

  That struck Julius as incredibly sad. He had aberrant views about friendship for a dragon, though, and he didn’t want to insult his sister, so he kept his mouth shut. He was about to ask Amelia what kind of work she and Svena did when his sister’s head suddenly whipped around.

  “Speak of the devil,” she muttered.

  Julius didn’t have to ask what she meant. He’d felt the cold wind, too. Considering they were literally standing on the edge of a mountain at night, that was hardly out of the ordinary, but this wasn’t just a chilly breeze. It was an arctic one, biting cold and wet with hints of glacial ice, and it was coming from inside the throne room.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  “You’ll see in a second,” Amelia replied, walking off the ledge and back into the throne room like she was striding into battle. “Heads up, Buttercup. We’ve got company.”

  Before Julius could ask what that was supposed to mean, the throne room doors flew open with a bang as the icy breeze grew into a gale. The wind was so strong, it almost blew Julius off the balcony, and the cold was even worse. In seconds, the temperature had gone from pleasant fall evening to chest freezer, turning their breaths into crinkly puffs of frost. Ice was actually spreading across the floor in front of the doors, covering the stone steps that led down to the throne room in a mosaic of frost that thickened as Julius watched. There were icicles, too, growing rapidly in long, perfectly clear spears that hung like teeth from the doorway’s arch. They were nearly to the floor when the howling wind stopped as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the throne room silent and still as a winter night.