A Dragon of a Different Color (Heartstrikers, #4)

by Rachel Aaron

She was holding a dragon. A miniature feathered serpent no longer than her hand with scarlet feathers that glowed like banked coals.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping away. “I didn’t want you to see.” It took Marci a while to recover enough of her wits to speak. When she did, though, it was in awe. “Dude, that was insane. You’re a walking existential crisis! All that ‘look into the void, void looks back’ Nietzsche stuff.”

legitimately choose his brother’s life over a debt with Dragon Sees Eternity? You are incredibly rare, and I believe that’s why Brohomir picked you. Not just because you won’t betray him, but because I don’t want to kill you. I could end all of Brohomir’s plotting right now, save his life by ending yours and all the plots he’s attached to you, but I won’t. I can’t, because you’re exactly the sort of peaceful, honest dragon I’ve always hoped would emerge one day.

Julius hadn’t. If she’d asked first, Julius would have personally helped them take down the Hall of Heads. But they hadn’t asked. No one had. They’d just done it, and the more he thought about that, the more determined Julius became to never surrender to the Golden Emperor. It didn’t matter how awful Bethesda’s taste had been. Changing another clan’s seat of power without bothering to seek input from the dragons whose traditions you were “improving” wasn’t the action of a ruler Julius could ever call his emperor.

“I’m not an insect,” he said angrily. “I’m a clan head, just like your son. Until he actually conquers Heartstriker, that makes us equals, and equals speak face to face, not through a third party.” That was enough to make the empress rise from her throne, but Julius wasn’t finished. “You can threaten me all you like,” he snapped. “But I fought for the right to stand at the head of Heartstriker, and I will not be bullied into backing down by a toothless old dragon who thinks she has power because her son is emperor.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Lao snapped. “Because it’s too good,” Julius snapped back. “You dropped out of the sky in our hour of need and offered to protect us from Algonquin in return for what is basically symbolic surrender. We don’t give up our right to rule or control of our territory. You’re not even asking for money.” He turned back to the Qilin. “I might be a terrible dragon, but even I know things that seem too good to be true usually are. Wouldn’t you be suspicious if our positions were reversed?”

Only a true champion of humanity may rise to claim the title of Merlin.

The spirit recoiled. No, she said, shaking her head. I am free. I— “You are a dangerous spirit born of humanity’s chaos, ambition, and greed,” he said over her. “It is my duty as a mage to chain you for all of our protection. I will not be a cruel master, but I will not tolerate disobedience. Is this understood?” No! she cried again, her thin lips curling in hate. I have no master. I am the DFZ. I am freedom! I—

“You’re her Chinese dragon!” “Spoke of me, did she?” the emperor said, crossing his arms tight across his chest. “I’m surprised. One would think she’d tire of bragging about a six-hundred-year-old conquest.” The bite in his voice was enough to make Julius take a physical step back. “Whoa,” he said putting up his hands. “I don’t know what you think’s going on, but she definitely wasn’t bragging.”

If I conquered Heartstriker, then my luck would protect you just as it does all my other clans, and since you were already on the verge of collapse, coming here posed no risk to my dragons.

“I don’t claim to know her as well as you did, but Chelsie’s still my sister, and she’s put her life on the line for me more times than I can count. That’s not the sort of thing you can fake.” “Of course she saved you,” he said dismissively. “You’re her clan head.” “Not back then,” Julius said. “I’m at the top now, but a month ago, I was the runt of J-clutch, the lowest of the low. Chelsie had no reason to even know my name, and yet she was always there. When I got myself in life-or-death trouble, she fought hard to get me out. She always comes to our rescue and never asks for anything in return. That’s why I can’t believe your story is as cut-and-dried as you say. I mean, you’re claiming she worked with Bethesda to betray you, but the Chelsie I know hates our mother. The only way she’d ever ask for Bethesda’s help was if she was absolutely back-to-the-wall desperate, which she must have been, because Bethesda’s been holding whatever happened in China over her head for the last six hundred years.”

It pulled Julius to him despite your best efforts, and now, as is his habit, the Nice Dragon of Heartstriker has made things infinitely more complicated.

“You’re clearly drinking Algonquin’s Kool-Aid, but did it ever occur to you that maybe she’s not telling the truth? That maybe Mortal Spirits aren’t the implacable world-destroying machines she’s made them out to be? For pity’s sake, Myron, you’re chained to one. Did you even try to talk to her before you did that?”

I think Bob owes Julius an apology for saddling him with that dumpster fire of a clan.

complaining about losing a Kosmolabe was like criticizing the color scheme of your winning lottery ticket,