I gaped at him. I knew he was a dragon, but that was a lot more plotting than I’d expected. “I thought we were doing this to free Nik!”
“We are,” my father said, brushing his long black hair with his fingers, which somehow made it fall around his face in a perfect shiny waterfall rather than in stringy clumps as mine would from the same treatment. “But what kind of dragon would I be if I couldn’t do two things at once? From what we saw in his arena, this Gameskeeper is clearly a man of business, so I’m going to make him a business proposition to buy out Mr. Kos’s contract. I don’t normally go after fighters, but the world already knows me as a human collector, so he shouldn’t suspect an ulterior motive. He’s also only human himself, which means he won’t be able to notice if I smell weaker than I should.”
“But what if he’s not human?” I pressed anxiously. “Remember the dragon you smelled before. What if that’s the Gameskeeper?”
“Then I’ll fake it,” my father replied, turning to give me a haughty look. “If he is a dragon, I haven’t heard of him, which means he must be very young. As you saw from that idiot last night, youth in dragons is the same as blindness. I plan to play on that blindness by showing him exactly what he expects to see: the Great Yong of Korea, purchasing a human to please his spoiled daughter.”
“But what if he doesn’t sell?”
“Then we’ll raise the number until he does,” Yong replied, turning back to his reflection. “Dragon or mortal, everyone has a price. Once we find the Gameskeeper’s, you’ll get your precious Mr. Kos back with head still attached to body, the arena your god hates will lose its champion, and the world will know that not only am I not dead, I’m back in business and doing deals same as ever. This sort of thing never stays secret. By tomorrow morning, news that I bought the Gameskeeper’s Mad Dog will be all over the city. Once those snakes at the Dragon Consulate realize they’re no longer fighting over an empty throne, they’ll slither back to their holes without me having to lift a claw.” He smirked. “We get three birds with one stone, and all on someone else’s money. How’s that for a twisty dragon plan?”
It certainly was twisty. But while I agreed with all of my dad’s logic, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a horrible idea. No one who’d set foot in the Gameskeeper’s arena could possibly argue that its master wasn’t a greedy man, but I’d felt the magic he’d stirred up. I still didn’t know what it was for, but anyone who could harness enough power to push out a god was someone to be reckoned with. Even if it wasn’t flowing to him personally, it just didn’t seem logical that the Gameskeeper would give up magic like that for boring old cash.
That said, it wasn’t as if I had a better idea. If my dad’s plan worked, we’d neatly avoid all my worst-case scenarios and get Yong back on track to not being my dependent anymore. Those were all good things I wanted, and I hoped rather than believed this was the way we got them.
“Okay,” I said, pulling the ridiculous dress over my head. “Let’s see if I remember how to do this.”
***
Thirty minutes later, my dress, shoes, and makeup were on, and we were in a hired car on our way to Rentfree. It was weird to actually drive somewhere after two months of teleporting wherever I wanted, but not as weird as being dressed up next to my dad. I felt like I was thirteen again, going to some big society shindig where my only jobs were to smile and not embarrass anyone. That last bit never applied to myself, of course. It was impossible not to be embarrassed when you were a grown woman dressed like a toddler.
“I feel ridiculous,” I announced, brushing my hands over my multi-tiered skirt in a vain attempt to make it lie something resembling flat.
“But you look lovely,” my father said, smiling at me. “As your mother discovered years ago, voluminous dresses with high necks always look best on you. The extra fabric and elongated lines help to balance out your head.”
I gave him a deadly look, and his smile slipped. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused. “You have a strong jaw, so you look best when you wear clothes that counter that. It’s an observation, not an insult.”
“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to point it out,” I grumbled, reaching up to rub my chin, which did not feel square to me. “Haven’t you heard of tact?”
“Tact is for strangers. Family deserves the truth. How can you master your flaws if I don’t help you find them? Would you rather I lied?”
I looked down at my lap with a huff, digging into the endless ruffles to find the small purse where I’d stashed my phone. Sibyl’s earpiece was still in my ear, hidden by a curl of my over-styled hair. I didn’t actually need to touch it, but grabbing it gave me something to do with my hands that wasn’t wringing my father’s neck.
It was more important than ever that I keep
