Chapter 31: The Twig Who Lived

If one day, the Hale family manages to produce descendants, what would a certain Riley Hale be known for?

Was it going to be his dashing good looks?

His curious mind?

Or his unusually large emergency fund?

Well, likely not, because in Riley Hale’s opinion, he would go down in their family history as either the savior or the damner of their entire clan.

Because the same twig was able to secure an agreement of dissolution while managing to stay alive.

Oh yes, he did.

In his twenty-five years of life, he had never experienced that level of shaking, fear, and possible incontinence.

It had been mere seconds, but to the mortal who had no idea what those dragons were thinking, every tick of the clock felt like a stab to the soul.

But when Lord Karion, in all his exasperated glory, said, “Riley Hale, we are willing to accept your wish…” he was sure he was going to pass out.

Well, that was until he heard the remaining part of his sentence, “if you’d be willing to accept our reasonable conditions.”

Conditions.

Reasonable conditions.

And while that sounded bad, surely it couldn’t be so bad that he’d lose his life in something counterproductive, right?

It took a moment before Riley could reply, as he considered the best way to approach this without ending up dead.

But then, eventually he settled on doing it this way: “My Lord, would it be okay if I could hear the conditions first before agreeing?”

Riley then bowed before continuing, “I am aware that I may be being disrespectful right now, but considering how important this is, and how I previously failed to understand the contract, I was hoping to know if it’s within my capabilities.”

“Riley, you may rise. We understand. And we fully intend to let you know about the conditions before we finalize our agreement.”

And sure enough, that’s what those two beautiful dragons did. They actually talked about reasonable conditions—while another fire-breathing and potentially (no—actually) deadly dragon was seething next to Riley.

And who would’ve known that ignoring him could be as satisfying as payday?!

That was earlier, though. Smiling about it now—especially while locked in this moving matchbox of a car with said dragon—was likely to get him erased.

So, Riley wisely chose to think instead about his future. A future that looked oh-so-bright… provided he fulfilled the conditions.

1. Establish a training system for future aides.

2. Successfully hire, promote, and train a replacement.

3. Replacement must be accepted by Dragon Lord Kael Dravaryn based on a metric agreed upon by both parties.

4. A proper handover of duties is required.

5. Agreement to sign a non-disclosure oath.

Surprisingly, the conditions were actually reasonable. Understandable, even.

If anything, the only thing that really worried him was the part about Kael accepting the replacement.

Because, really—even he probably wasn’t someone Kael accepted. He was tolerated at best.

So in that situation… where the hell was Riley supposed to find someone who’d be considered a pass?

Thankfully, Lord Karion and Lady Cirila had anticipated that Kael might try to sabotage the process by rejecting every candidate. So, they made it a requirement that the list of qualifications be mutually agreed upon by both parties.

Surprisingly, Kael didn’t react all that much, well, that was considering how he’d normally react to something that annoyed him.

Did his father speak to him about his behavior? Probably not. Because it wasn’t really something that would be that ground breaking to the dragons. Riley didn’t think any of that would matter.

Ideally, it really shouldn’t. But then again he wasn’t really just any human after all?

Because which human would walk around with a blood sigil on him?

Probably no one but Riley Hale, one complaining aide who seemed to have gotten into the good graces of distinguished dragons.

And thus began the kind of conversation no one ever expected to have:

“What were you thinking?! You didn’t notice anything for five whole years? If he had dropped dead, then what?”

“He never said anything.”

“Are you insane?! If the minor dragons from the other branches can’t even open their mouths around you, do you really think a human would say anything?!”

Lord Karion was beyond exasperated. This wasn’t just aloofness. This was borderline negligence. Kael had been raised to account for the needs of different races. As the future head of the Ministry, how did he miss something this obvious?

But Kael, ever unbothered, replied with a shrug. “I already fixed it. He has something reliable now. After I found out, I gave him something better.”

Lord Karion narrowed his eyes. “And what, pray tell, was this compensation?”

“The Guardian’s Heartstone. And a blood sigil.”

Silence.

Then—

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Lord Karion slammed a hand on the table. The poor furniture, ancient and enchanted, gave an audible creak of protest.

“He’s branded?! With a blood sigil?! With whose brand?! Have you completely lost your mind?!”

Kael didn’t flinch. “Whose else would I use but mine?”

Of all the answers Karion was prepared for, that was not one of them.

“KAEL!!!”

“A blood sigil from YOU?! Have you gone mad?! Do you even hear yourself?!”

“There are thousands of defensive artifacts. You could’ve chosen any of them.”

Kael’s golden eyes gleamed with rising irritation. “And have him walk around reeking of artifact magic? Draw half of Wyrmfall’s population to him like moths to flame?”

“Hell, then you could’ve gone with a temporary mark from those races who could do that. A binding rune. Anything!”

“There were other ways! You could’ve used a regulated magical imprint like everyone else!”

“And let him carry the mark of another creature next to me?” Kael’s voice dropped dangerously low. “I think not.”

Karion’s face was rapidly turning crimson. “Does he even know what a blood sigil entails? Did he agree to it willingly?!”

“Yes. I asked him.”

“But does he know it’s permanent?!”

“Who doesn’t? And he’s supposed to be mine permanently, isn’t he?” Kael’s tone was calm. Too calm. His pupils slitted, the faintest shimmer of heat curling around his shoulders like the ghost of fire.

Karion’s jaw slackened. His headache was so sharp it nearly counted as divine punishment.

What was happening? How had he, the great and retired Lord Karion Dravaryn, ended up trying to lecture a son who genuinely sounded like he didn’t see the problem?

“If your blood had been rejected by his body—a human body—he would’ve died, Kael. DIED.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“How could you have been sure?!”

“Well, he’s alive and well, isn’t he?”

Karion pressed a hand to his forehead. His retirement was beginning to feel more like a coma he had been rudely shaken from.

“Son. I think it’s best if we let him go. You owe him that much.”

“No.”

Of course not.

Karion had a feeling that would be the answer. Kael hadn’t even flinched when Riley recounted five years of workplace trauma.

He just sat there—calm, silent, and infuriatingly composed. And that alone spoke volumes. Because Kael, who barely tolerated his own parents—let alone anyone—had sat through it all without a single scathing remark. That wasn’t indifference. That was restraint. And in Kael’s case, restraint meant something.

“I know you’re fond of him—”

Kael scoffed.

Karion closed his eyes. Inhaled. Counted to five hundred with an interesting speed.

“But this isn’t the way to keep a human near you,” he continued. “With beings like us, fear works. But humans? If you want to see what they’re capable of, you need their respect.”

He leaned forward.

“Let him go. If you want him to stay, convince him. Prove you’re worth staying for. Because right now, son… it’s not looking good.”

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