“I like the idea of using the DFZ as neutral territory,” he said, thinking it through. “Has a human government claimed it yet? Because I know Algonquin’s out.” Even after her apology, the DFZ had made it very clear that the lake spirit was never to enter her city again.
“Not yet,” Chelsie said. “Plenty have tried. Canada’s pushing hard, and David’s bending over backward to make the case for Detroit rejoining the US. So far, though, the DFZ isn’t interested. It’s hard to tell a sentient city that she has to listen to a bunch of humans. Myron had to step in to convince her to let the UN troops stay so they could continue their disaster relief. It’s been a mess.”
Julius scowled. He hadn’t heard any of that, either. How much were the others keeping from him? But Chelsie’s report had set an idea spinning in his head. An idea that was rapidly forming into a plan. “Thanks for bringing me into the loop, Chelsie. I really appreciate it.”
“I knew you would. Just don’t tell Amelia. She’s got everyone on strict orders not to tell you anything upsetting, but I’m painfully familiar with your nosiness, so I figured I’d save us all the trouble and get everything out now.”
“Thank you,” he said again, reaching for his phone to do some research. “Tell Xian hello for me, and have fun on your vacation.”
His sister smiled. “I think I will,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
***
Chelsie didn’t come back from the Bahamas in time for the all-clan meeting.
“Where is she?” Julius asked nervously as Fredrick sewed him into the stupidly expensive jacket his mother was making him wear. “She was supposed to be back this morning!”
“If she hasn’t arrived yet, I don’t think she’s going to,” Fredrick said, holding Julius’s sleeve at the precise right length with one hand while he quickly stitched it in place with the other. “It seems the island has been besieged by freak magical storms. The airport and all forms of teleportation are shut down, and she and the Golden Emperor have been forced to take shelter in their hotel. Very unusual.”
“There’s nothing unusual about it,” Marci said with a snort. “Sounds to me like Mr. Magical Good Fortune didn’t want to leave his love nest to go to a meeting.” She grinned. “Would a ‘getting lucky’ joke be out of place?”
“Considering I’m the one who sent them to paradise, I find it entirely appropriate,” Fredrick said smugly. “This is actually going even better than I’d hoped.”
“Yes, yes, it’s great for them,” Julius agreed. “But what are we going to do? It’s a hard room in there, and I was counting on the Qilin’s support.” He nodded through the door into the hotel ballroom, which was packed to the gills with dragons. Delegations from every clan sat at tables that had been set up in a circle, and despite this supposedly being a peaceful summit, every one of them looked ready to kill. “We could use some good luck.”
“You’ll be fine,” Marci said, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Who needs luck when you’ve got friends in high places?”
She looked pointedly across the hall at Amelia, who was deep in conversation with the spirit of the DFZ. The city was dressed in her best glowing neon for the occasion, her beady eyes shining a bright, cheerful orange from beneath the shadow of her deep hood. Myron looked less happy standing beside her, but what mortal could feel comfortable in the presence of so many dragons? Except Marci, of course. She was used to it, and like everything else about her, Julius loved her for it.
“You’re right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine,” Marci said pointedly, handing him his cane. “We’ve got to go take our seats now. Knock ’em dead!”
Julius took the cane with a smile as Marci adjusted her long formal dress—which looked suspiciously like a wizard’s robe—and hurried to follow Myron and the spirits into the meeting room, Ghost trotting along behind her like the cat he pretended to be. Julius was still watching her go when he felt a familiar murderous presence behind him.
“You’re bringing that in, are you?”
Bethesda’s voice was scathing, and Julius turned to find his mother decked in gold from head to toe, glaring down her nose at the cane he was using to keep himself upright. “Really, Julius! I know you’re only a week into being miraculously raised from the dead, but if you hobble in there like an invalid, you’re going to look weak.”
“Not as weak as I’d look falling on my face,” Julius pointed out. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but until my fire finishes healing, it’s what I’ve got.”
“You could at least try to stand up straight,” his mother scolded. “That way, the others might think it’s an accessory instead of a necessity.”
Julius didn’t think there was any chance of that. Dragons had a sixth sense for weakness, and even after everyone’s contributions, his fire was still little bigger than a hatchling’s. Cane or no cane, he’d be outed the second they smelled him.
“Where’s Ian?” he asked, changing the subject.
Bethesda’s perfect red lips curled in disgust. “Where he always is these days, with Svena.” She shook her lovely head. “Cementing alliances is well and good, but this is bordering on ridiculous. The ex-Daughters of the Three Sisters are up to their snouts in debt to our clan, and we’ve already gotten our clutch out of them. There’s nothing left for Ian to charm out of the White Witch, so I don’t know why he’s still playing consort. We’re on top! He should be gunning for new conquests, not wasting his time hanging around old ones.”
“I’m happy for them,” Julius said stubbornly. “They seem well matched.” Not that he understood a relationship that seemed to be based on who could use the other better, but Svena and Ian were both dragon’s dragons, and it seemed to work for them.
“Well, he’d better pull himself out of her icy clutches soon, because we’re starting in two minutes,” Bethesda said, checking her phone. She grimaced when she saw the time and shot Julius the closest thing she had to a nervous look. “The plan is still on, right? You haven’t killed it or something stupid like that?”
“Why would I kill it?” Julius asked. “It was my plan.”
“Yes, but I like it,” his mother pointed out. “And you always destroy the things I like, so…”
“It’s fine,” he assured her.
“What’s fine?” Justin asked, suddenly appearing at Julius’s side.
“Everything,” Julius said, smiling at his knight. As always, Justin was dressed like a modern knight in military-grade spellworked Kevlar with his Fang at his side. Conrad was wearing the same as he stepped into place beside Bethesda. The only one who didn’t have a knight was Ian, but he didn’t seem to mind when he finally appeared.
“About time,” Bethesda snapped, eying his skewed suit and uncharacteristically rumpled hair, which was standing up in the back as though someone tall had been running her fingers through it. “Did you make sure Svena is still on our side?”
“It didn’t come up,” Ian said, neatening himself up in the hall mirror. “But I trust my consort to do what is best for our clan.”