counterpart substitute. That’s absolutely laden with irony.”
“Yeah, ironic.” That’s all Dirk’s life had become, an impenetrable maze of irony.
On her perch, Kihawahine laid her head on her front legs and curled her tail around herself, resting in a catlike pose. The lights of the enclosure made her blue and purple scales gleam. She always looked majestic in the light, like a living jewel.
Dirk’s father eyed him silently. Dirk knew he looked pitiful, hardly able to stand, his clothes shredded, his torso bruised and bloody. He was beginning to feel that way, too, pitiful. He’d traded his future away, and what did he have to show for it? His father was furious with him; the Slayers had killed one of his dragons, Tori had fallen in love with his friend, and Dr. B wanted to replace him as A-team’s captain.
“I assume,” his father drawled, “that during the last two months you’ve had time to get Tori out of your system. Time to reflect on the value of her affections.”
You would think so.
“Time to consider where your loyalties lie,” his father went on. “I assume you withdrew a large sum from the bank and were heading across the country because you were overcome with shame for betraying me, your own father.” He walked around Dirk, looking him up and down as though Dirk were a piece of merchandise that was defective, but perhaps salvageable. “I assume your guilt was driving that car. You couldn’t face me because you didn’t think you deserved my forgiveness. You don’t, by the way. Your decision cost me a dragon. But it could have been much worse. I could have been killed. Everything we’ve worked for could have been destroyed—all because you had feelings for some girl.”
Dirk felt another stab of guilt then. Could his father have been killed during the dragon fight? If Jesse had the chance, would he have done it? Dirk probably knew the answer to that question. If the Slayers could have, perhaps any of them would have killed his father. They were, after all, Slayers. It was bred into them to destroy dragons. Dragon lords just got in the way of their job.
Dirk’s father’s voice turned gentle, understanding almost. “You can’t switch sides now. Your friends—would they ever trust you again if they knew you’d already led them into a trap once? Dr. B—who you admire so much—what would he do if he knew you nearly cost him his daughter’s life?”
Dirk felt his throat tighten. His father was right. Dirk had known this all along, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He could have told Dr. B the truth anytime over the summer. Dirk hadn’t, though. He hadn’t wanted to see Dr. B’s estimation of him crumble to dust. Dirk hadn’t wanted to see his friends turn away from him.
“You might not like it right now,” Dirk’s father said, “but you’re my son. A dragon lord. I love you and I’m going to forgive you. I’m going to pretend your betrayal never happened. And so are you.” He put his hand on Dirk’s shoulder, resting it there with a sense of reassurance. “Are we agreed about that?”
Dirk lifted his gaze to his father’s eyes. His father did love him, was the only person who did, really. Everyone else loved the person Dirk was pretending to be.
Dirk felt tired then, resigned. His father wanted a better nation, and when his father grew too old to rule, it would be Dirk’s nation. That wasn’t such a bad thing.
Revolutions happened all of the time. The founding fathers’ children hadn’t refused to take part in their new country just because blood was shed in the process. The men who faced each other across the battlefield during that war—they might have been friends once, too.
“Yes,” Dirk said. “We’re agreed.”
“Good.” His father looked into his eyes for another moment, seemed reassured by what he saw, and finally relaxed. “Were you able to copy the encryption algorithms and key for Dr. B’s tracking program?”
Dirk
“Yeah, ironic.” That’s all Dirk’s life had become, an impenetrable maze of irony.
On her perch, Kihawahine laid her head on her front legs and curled her tail around herself, resting in a catlike pose. The lights of the enclosure made her blue and purple scales gleam. She always looked majestic in the light, like a living jewel.
Dirk’s father eyed him silently. Dirk knew he looked pitiful, hardly able to stand, his clothes shredded, his torso bruised and bloody. He was beginning to feel that way, too, pitiful. He’d traded his future away, and what did he have to show for it? His father was furious with him; the Slayers had killed one of his dragons, Tori had fallen in love with his friend, and Dr. B wanted to replace him as A-team’s captain.
“I assume,” his father drawled, “that during the last two months you’ve had time to get Tori out of your system. Time to reflect on the value of her affections.”
You would think so.
“Time to consider where your loyalties lie,” his father went on. “I assume you withdrew a large sum from the bank and were heading across the country because you were overcome with shame for betraying me, your own father.” He walked around Dirk, looking him up and down as though Dirk were a piece of merchandise that was defective, but perhaps salvageable. “I assume your guilt was driving that car. You couldn’t face me because you didn’t think you deserved my forgiveness. You don’t, by the way. Your decision cost me a dragon. But it could have been much worse. I could have been killed. Everything we’ve worked for could have been destroyed—all because you had feelings for some girl.”
Dirk felt another stab of guilt then. Could his father have been killed during the dragon fight? If Jesse had the chance, would he have done it? Dirk probably knew the answer to that question. If the Slayers could have, perhaps any of them would have killed his father. They were, after all, Slayers. It was bred into them to destroy dragons. Dragon lords just got in the way of their job.
Dirk’s father’s voice turned gentle, understanding almost. “You can’t switch sides now. Your friends—would they ever trust you again if they knew you’d already led them into a trap once? Dr. B—who you admire so much—what would he do if he knew you nearly cost him his daughter’s life?”
Dirk felt his throat tighten. His father was right. Dirk had known this all along, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He could have told Dr. B the truth anytime over the summer. Dirk hadn’t, though. He hadn’t wanted to see Dr. B’s estimation of him crumble to dust. Dirk hadn’t wanted to see his friends turn away from him.
“You might not like it right now,” Dirk’s father said, “but you’re my son. A dragon lord. I love you and I’m going to forgive you. I’m going to pretend your betrayal never happened. And so are you.” He put his hand on Dirk’s shoulder, resting it there with a sense of reassurance. “Are we agreed about that?”
Dirk lifted his gaze to his father’s eyes. His father did love him, was the only person who did, really. Everyone else loved the person Dirk was pretending to be.
Dirk felt tired then, resigned. His father wanted a better nation, and when his father grew too old to rule, it would be Dirk’s nation. That wasn’t such a bad thing.
Revolutions happened all of the time. The founding fathers’ children hadn’t refused to take part in their new country just because blood was shed in the process. The men who faced each other across the battlefield during that war—they might have been friends once, too.
“Yes,” Dirk said. “We’re agreed.”
“Good.” His father looked into his eyes for another moment, seemed reassured by what he saw, and finally relaxed. “Were you able to copy the encryption algorithms and key for Dr. B’s tracking program?”
Dirk
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