Pope's bastard son, destroyer of Ceylon, exiled traitor: Cesare Borgia returned to Florence, and everyone thought he was dead. But he was alive. More than that, he had donned the Seraph armor known as the Red Dragon and defeated Prometheus in a combat test. The price was nearly losing his left arm, with his nervous system on the verge of collapse. The doctors said that if he wore the armor one more time, he might die inside the cockpit.
But Cesare didn't care. His sister Adele was still in Aachen, held hostage by Prince Kleidman of the Kingdom of Charlemagne. The engagement was a deed of indenture, the alliance a shackle, and behind Kleidman's smile lurked a web deeper and colder than Florence's.
Cesare and his knights boarded a northbound train. The snow in Aachen was far heavier than in Florence, and the palace walls far thicker than he had imagined. Kleidman was no shallow, ornamental prince like Cesare had expected. Sitting by the fireplace with a glass of red wine, he smiled and asked softly, “Do you think you can take her away?”
Meanwhile, Valentina, the Valkyrie of the Yenisei, was preparing for a war on the ice fields. Yuan Chun, princess of the Zhongshan Kingdom, tested Cesare's limits with letter after letter, while Luigi Borgia patiently wove his own web of intrigue in the shadows of Florence.
The Red Dragon has returned. But the road back is longer, colder, and bloodier than anyone imagined.
Everyone should try reading it; you might be pleasantly surprised.