No Good Dragon Goes Unpunished

  Now that he knew where he was going, finding F-clutch’s hidden door was remarkably easy. This was partially because Julius had always had an excellent, survival-enforced memory for the mountain’s layout, and partially because generations of Fs making the trip down here on a daily basis had worn a faint but noticeable track in the stone floor. But while finding the entrance was no problem, getting in was another matter entirely.

  “For the last time,” Julius pleaded to the F who’d answered the door, a greasy, angry-looking dragon whom Julius vaguely remembered as being in charge of the mountain’s vehicle fleet. “I don’t mean Chelsie any harm. I just want to talk to her.”

  “And I’m telling you she’s not here,” the dragon replied. “Sir.”

  He spat the honorific like a curse, and Justin growled. “Watch it, Frankie.”

  “It’s Finlay,” the dragon at the door growled back. “Sir.”

  Justin bared his teeth, and Julius sighed. “Enough,” he said, getting between them. “We’re all on the same team, remember?” He looked up at the F. “Can you just tell her I’d like to see her, please?”

  Despite his insistence that Chelsie wasn’t in, Finlay stepped back inside, closing the door firmly to keep them from following.

  “He’s going to ditch us,” Justin said, looking back down the badly lit stone hall toward the stairwell. “I don’t even know what we’re doing down here. Chelsie’s a C and Bethesda’s Shade. If she lives anywhere in the mountain—which, for the record, I doubt—it’s going to be upstairs, not down here in the F gutter.”

  “I’m not saying she lives here,” Julius replied carefully, doing his best to toe the line between keeping Chelsie’s secret and not outright lying to his brother. “But the Fs have a better chance of finding her than either of us. They—”

  The click of a lock cut him off, and Julius looked up to see Finlay holding the door open with a new look of grudging respect. “Come in.”

  Julius was moving before he finished, darting inside before the F changed his mind. When Justin tried to follow, Finlay barred the way with his heavily muscled arm. “Not you.”

  Justin’s eyes narrowed. “I go where he goes.”

  “It’s okay, Justin,” Julius said quickly. “I’m not in danger from the Fs. They’re bound not hurt any of us, remember?”

  Finlay’s glower said he didn’t like being reminded of his clutch’s bondage. Justin didn’t look convinced, either, so Julius tried a different approach.

  “If you really want to protect me, there’s something else I need you to do,” he said quickly, glancing up and down the hall in a convincing—and not entirely false—show of nerves. “Chelsie’s probably right about Gregory getting desperate after you insulted him, but if he wasn’t willing to go head to head with you before, he’s not going to try it now. With that in mind, I’m betting his next attack will be something subtle, like poison.”

  “Good thinking,” Justin said, impressed. “You’re finally starting get this dragon gig, Julius. A coward who’d attack a human would absolutely use poison. So what’s our plan? Should I start eating your dinners?”

  “You could do that,” Julius said, heart sinking at the thought of how much food this was going to cost him. “But a better bet would be to just get food from somewhere Gregory doesn’t have access to. You know all the good takeout places around here. Could you—”

  “Way ahead of you,” Justin said, whipping out his phone. “You stay put in the F-locker, I’ll take care of food. Meet back here when you’re done.”

  “Roger,” Julius said, biting his lip to hide his relieved smile. “Thank you, Justin.”

  Justin nodded and waved him inside, never taking his eyes off his phone, where he’d already saved multiple pizza orders. When it was clear the knight was no longer a threat, Finlay closed the door in his face. “You’re pretty good at that,” he said as he turned the lock.

  “The Justin redirect is a J-clutch survival skill,” Julius said with a shrug, glancing down the Fs’ long hall. “Is Chelsie in her room?”

  Finlay nodded. “Fair warning, though, she’s in a foul mood. I think she only had me let you in so she could yell at you personally.”

  “That’s fine,” Julius said. “So long as she talks to me.”

  Finlay didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but he didn’t stop Julius as he walked down the hall to the warded door at the end. He knocked when he got there, but it was only perfunctory. Chelsie knew he was there, and he’d barely set his knuckles to her door before she snarled, “Just get in here, Julius.”

  He did as he was told, opening the door just enough to slip inside. But when he looked up to thank her for seeing him, the words died in his throat.

  It didn’t seem possible, but Chelsie looked even worse than she had on the stairs. She was sitting on the medical table with her armored jacket off, revealing a bloody mess of wounds—old and new—crisscrossing her olive skin beneath her stained tank top. One particularly nasty cut on her arm was still in the process of being stitched up, which shouldn’t even have been possible for an unsealed dragon, much less one as old as Chelsie. Julius had seen her heal wounds twice that size right in front of his eyes while she was fighting Vann Jeger. He couldn’t imagine how close to the limit her body must be for her need actual manual stitches to keep herself together. She should have been passed out in bed ages ago, and yet here she was, sitting patiently on the metal operating table at the front of her lair like this was all old news while Fredrick hovered beside her with a bloody needle and thread.

  The sight of the F made Julius do a double take. “I thought you were with Marci?”

  “I passed her on to the correct dragons,” Fredrick said. “She’s safely on her way, but Chelsie required my immediate attention.”

  Julius glanced at the needle in his hands. “Are you a doctor?”

  Fredrick shook his head. “Frances is the family doctor. I’m merely a good tailor.”

  “The best,” Chelsie agreed, wincing as Fredrick resumed stitching. “Go ahead.”

  Julius blinked. “Me?”

  “No one else has barged into my room,” she said irritably. “Finlay said you wanted to talk, so get on with it. Talk.”

  Julius began to fidget. He’d been so concerned with just getting to Chelsie, he hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say when he did it. He knew the basics, but saying them in a way that would actually get through to his sister rather than just putting her back up was no easy task. But Chelsie always had appreciated honesty more than cleverness, and in the end, Julius decided to just stick to what he did best: blurting out the truth.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be,” Chelsie said. “I’ve gotten through worse.”

  “That’s why I’m worried,” he said, looking pointedly at her fully stocked and obviously well used medical station. “This has to stop, Chelsie. You can’t keep acting like Mother’s secret police. It’s not right, it’s not good for the clan, and it’s not good for you.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said through clenched teeth as Fredrick tied off the last stitch in her arm. “Go tell it to Bethesda.”

  “I intend to,” he said. “Right after you tell me what she’s using to keep you obedient.”

  Chelsie’s answer to that was a long, silent stare. It was the same stare she always gave him when he pried, and Julius was sick of it. “Why won’t you tell me?” he demanded. “I’m trying to help you, here! I know how much you hate being the clan boogieman. You don’t even like hurting dragons, do you?”

  “That depends on the dragon,” Chelsie said casually. “Sometimes I enjoy my job a lot.”

  “But you still hate having to do it.”

  She looked away, which was answer enough. “If you hate it, why are you keeping Mother’s secrets?” Julius demanded. “Why won’t you help me help you?”

  “Because you already had your chance,” Chelsie snapped, whirling back around. “You had Beth
esda on her knees. Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of that moment? Of what I’d do to her when I finally got the upper hand?”

  Just like on the night they’d overthrown Bethesda, the hate in his sister’s voice sent a chill down Julius’s spine. “I know,” he said. “But I couldn’t. What she’s done to you—to all of us—is terrible, but I couldn’t kill her. Not if I actually wanted things to change. You can’t stop the cycle of violence with more violence, Chelsie.”

  “Spoken like a dragon who’s never truly had his back against the wall,” she growled, sliding off the table. “Go back to Brohomir, Julius. Enjoy the future he’s made for you while it lasts. But don’t come down here pretending you want to help me when we both know you’ve already made your choice.”

  “I’m not pretending,” Julius said, insulted. “You act like the only way to help you is to kill Bethesda!”

  “That’s because it is,” Chelsie said as she limped over to grab a clean armored coat from her closet. “You asked me how you could help, I told you. If you’re ready to do something about it, we’ll talk. Otherwise, get out.”

  “I’m not leaving,” he said stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong is that I’m stuck with a stupid baby dragon who won’t leave!” she snarled, working her injured arm into the sleeve. “I was patient with you last night because you’re an earnest kid and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m all tapped out today. Even whelps have to grow up and face reality sometime, Julius.”

  “You’re the one not being realistic,” Julius argued. “Being overly pessimistic is just as wrong as being overly optimistic. I know you’ve been grinding away at this for a long time now, but things are already changing, and they’re about to change even more. You signed that paper with the rest of us. You know the new Council will have all of Bethesda’s power. Once that third seat is filled, the three of us will be the Heartstriker. When that happens, what’s to stop me from just voting you and the Fs free?”

  He could already see how it would go. Bethesda would obviously vote no, but the rest of the clan feared and hated Chelsie for all the years she’d threatened them. No matter who won the final seat, they’d almost certainly side with Julius to set Chelsie free if only to get rid of her. It was practically a done deal.

  “There’s nothing,” he said, grinning wide. “No one has to die, because we’ve already won.”

  “He’s right,” Fredrick agreed, looking at their sister with the wild-eyed hope that only came from years of repression. “It would work. If we can just get to the vote, Julius could—”

  “Fredrick,” Chelsie said coldly. “Leave.”

  The F recoiled as though she’d struck him. “What?”

  “Go,” she growled, glaring at him. “And don’t let anyone else in. I need to speak with Julius alone.”

  For a moment, the tall dragon looked truly hurt, and then he pulled himself together, leaving the room with a silent, professional anger that scared Julius even more than Chelsie’s.

  “Why did you—”

  “This way,” Chelsie said, cutting him off as she turned on her heel and vanished down her badger tunnel of a hallway. “I’ve taken care of the Fs all their lives. Fredrick’s as loyal as they come, but he has sharp ears and a bad habit of pressing them against doors.”

  With a final glance over his shoulder, Julius hurried after her, stomach fluttering in anticipation. From the purposeful way she was walking, he hoped Chelsie was leading him to some kind of secret chamber where everything would be revealed. Instead, she pulled him into her tiny cell of a bedroom, locking the door and pressing her back against it, hiding the watercolor painting that hung from it with her body.

  “This is the most secure room in the mountain,” she said. “It’s still not absolute, but we’ll have to settle for what we’ve got. Give me your phone.”

  Julius obeyed, handing the device over. The moment Chelsie had it, she opened her door again just enough to toss it into the hall. He couldn’t help wincing as the shiny black plastic bounced off the stone walls, but he didn’t say a word as Chelsie relocked the door, turning on him with a determined look that he could only hope meant he was about to finally get some answers. A hope that proved to be short lived the moment his sister opened her mouth.

  “You can’t free me or F-clutch.”

  Julius gaped at her. “That’s what you brought me in here to say?”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t say it front of Fredrick. He’s pinned all of his hopes on you, and he’s convinced the rest of his clutch to do the same. He’s the oldest. The others have always followed his lead. Now, he’s got them all thinking you’re their ticket out from under Bethesda’s boot, but it’s a pipe dream. We can never be free.”

  She said this like it was the absolute truth, but Julius refused to believe. “Why not?” he growled. “F-clutch was bound while they were still in their eggs. What can Mother possibly have over them that—”

  “It’s not Bethesda,” Chelsie said, dropping her eyes. “It’s me. I’m the reason we’re trapped. That’s why I can’t let you give them hope. It doesn’t matter how much you change the clan. So long as Bethesda’s alive, I can never stop serving her, and F-clutch can never leave the mountain.”

  She said this quickly and quietly, but Julius couldn’t wrap his head around any of it. “But…” he said at last. “Why?”

  His sister heaved a long sigh and stepped sideways, revealing the beautiful Chinese watercolor hanging from the door behind her where the younger version of herself slept peacefully, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “A long time ago,” she said, reaching out to brush her finger over the ink-black curls of her painted hair, “when I was your age, I did something very stupid.”

  Julius’s heart began to pound. “This is what happened in China, isn’t it?”

  “Lots of things happened in China,” Chelsie said bitterly.

  “But this is the one Bob was talking about,” Julius said, refusing to be put off course. “Who painted it?”

  The question made Chelsie twitch. “A dragon.”

  Given the intimate nature of the painting, it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. “You were involved with a Chinese dragon?”

  “You don’t have to say it like it was an impossible feat,” Chelsie snapped. “I’m not that homely.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Julius said quickly. “It’s just, it’s hard to imagine you having a whirlwind romance in a foreign country. You’re always so serious and responsible, and the Chinese dragons are so…um…”

  “Insular?” she suggested.

  “Secluded,” Julius finished politely, though secretly, he felt Chelsie’s description was more accurate. The dragon clans of China might not be as big as Heartstriker, or as blatantly magical as the Three Sisters, but they were still some of the most powerful in the world. Whereas most dragons had merely come out publicly when magic returned, the Chinese clans—many of whom already held powerful positions inside China’s Communist Party—had banded together and taken over the country. This was only possible due to the fact that, unlike pretty much every other clan in their race’s bloody history, the dragons of China had abandoned their petty squabbles in favor of peaceful unification under a single ruler known as the Golden Emperor.

  How the Golden Emperor had accomplished this, no one seemed to know. In addition to being uncharacteristically civil, the Chinese clans were secretive to a level that raised even dragon eyebrows. They didn’t even talk with dragons from the outside, and they never left China. Or, at least, that was what Julius had heard. He’d never met a Chinese dragon or been to China himself. Most likely never would, either, since Heartstrikers were expressly forbidden from setting foot in the Golden Emperor’s domain. Before now, he’d always assumed the ban was their mother’s way of keeping them from accidentally starting a clan war by carelessly bumbling into an insular and powerful clan’s territory. Given
what he’d just seen, though, Julius had to wonder if the truth wasn’t far more specific.

  “How did it happen?” he asked. “And what were you doing in China, anyway? I didn’t think the Golden Emperor allowed outside dragons in his territory.”

  “Not now,” she said. “But this was a long time ago, when things were different. Back then, Mother had just killed the Quetzalcoatl, and she was in the process of reestablishing all his old alliances under her name. Unfortunately, she had to do most of this alone since all the dragons from her first two clutches except Bob and Amelia had died in the coup against her father. My clutch was the first born to Bethesda after she became the Heartstriker, and the moment we were old enough to be trusted not to swallow our own tails, she had us running all over the world.”

  “And she sent you to China?”

  “I volunteered, actually,” Chelsie said with a shrug. “It was a long and dangerous trip, but traveling to the opposite side of the world from Bethesda sounded like a vacation to me. It was actually one of the best times of my life. Until things went wrong, anyway.”

  That was a cryptic way to put things, but given how Chelsie was still touching the painting like it was her greatest treasure, Julius could hazard a guess. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  Chelsie jumped like she’d been caught with her hand in Bethesda’s treasury, and then she shook her head. “That obvious, huh?”

  He nodded, and she sighed again. “I told you I was stupid.”

  “There’s nothing stupid about falling in love.”

  “There is when you know better,” Chelsie snapped. “This wasn’t some human I could safely fall into puppy love with. He was a dragon. I might have been young, but I wasn’t naive. I knew exactly what sort of fire I was playing with, but I went ahead and did it anyway, and then I cried when I got burned. If that’s not stupid, I don’t know what is.”

  The way she said that made Julius wince. “Was he that bad?”

  She blinked in surprise at the question. “That’s not what I meant. He wasn’t bad at all. Quite the opposite, actually, which was the whole problem. I should have been terrified, or at least spooked enough to stay wary, but he was just too…”