Chapter 50: The Face-Off

What the—?

Orien suddenly found himself surrounded by glowing barriers that absolutely weren’t there before. They shimmered into place like smug little walls of betrayal, boxing him in from every direction.

“Hey! Hey!” he shouted, banging both fists against the nearest surface. “You can’t do this to me!”

Unfair. Completely unfair. He wanted to see what was happening, too!

Back at the den, however, the chaos was unfolding beautifully.

One very tired, very emotionally battered human had finally snapped.

“YOU!” Riley barked, pointing so forcefully it looked like he was casting a smite spell.

The Dragon Lord blinked.

Not because he was afraid. No. But because no one. Not since his parents. Not even fellow race leaders had ever addressed him like that and lived to tell the tale.

And yet here was Riley Hale, short, furious, surprisingly unsinged, and filled with the righteous rage of someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose.

Oh, and it was glorious.

Stupid. Dangerous. Definitely suicidal.

But glorious.

Riley probably shouldn’t do it again, though. Because as it turned out, pain still hurt.

In the process of testing just how far he could go without dying, Riley had discovered a few surprising facts.

First, Dragon Lord Kael Dravaryn didn’t like pain.

Yes, that sounded obvious. But this was different.

Apparently, beings of his stature weren’t often put in positions where physical pain was a thing. Trucks would likely disintegrate on impact. Magical weapons bounced right off. Angry bureaucrats gave up.

Riley knew this because he once bumped into Kael’s side during a chaos-filled meeting and nearly broke his own shoulder. The man was like walking granite.

But now? Now he had found a loophole.

See, Kael’s outer body might be stronger than manasteel, but the sigil linked them together. And with that link came something new.

A shared sensory connection.

Which meant…

“STOP IT!”

Kael’s voice echoed through the den, louder than usual, laced with alarm.

If Orien had heard it, he might’ve thought the Dragon Lord was fighting off a horde of rebels. Not yelling at a human who was repeatedly pinching himself.

Riley paused, eyes wide.

Then his lips curled upward into the dangerous smile of someone who had just realized he had the upper hand.

“Oh?” he said sweetly, eyes glinting like a mother about to discipline a particularly rowdy child. “Stop it, huh?”

“You think you can get away with this?” Kael growled, hands curling into fists.

But instead of backing down, the insane aide did the opposite.

He pinched harder.

Because the second thing Riley discovered was that Kael wouldn’t lay a finger on him.

He couldn’t.

Not unless he wanted to risk hurting himself in the process. Dragon bodies were not exactly delicate, but humans? Humans were like tissue paper in a rainstorm.

And that made things very interesting.

The third thing Riley realized? Threats of incineration didn’t seem all that scary anymore. Not when he’d already been branded, publicly shamed, and turned into a walking magical firestarter himself.

So now they stood facing each other like two war generals in a completely lopsided battle.

One was a towering golden dragon in human form.

The other was a human self-harming via light pinches.

It was the dumbest duel in the history of Eryndra.

And yet, somehow, the tension was real.

Their eyes locked.

The air between them crackled.

And just when Riley was about to go in for another dramatic slap, Kael hissed and threw his hands up like a man betrayed by fate itself.

“Quit it,” he snapped. “You’re not the only one surprised!”

The reaction was practically a first.

Riley paused.

Then, as if remembering he had dignity to maintain, he rearranged his face into something that wasn’t surprised. Not entirely, anyway.

“Hmph!” he huffed, arms crossed like a child who’d been scolded but refused to admit fault. There was no way he’d let Kael get the upper hand now. Not when he finally had leverage.

“Stop it before you hurt yourself,” Kael muttered. “You’re starting to look like a vegetable.”

“No, ho-ney,” Riley replied in the most gratingly sweet tone he could manage. “Why should I believe you?”

Kael’s exasperated sigh could’ve probably put out a bonfire.

Without another word, the Dragon Lord pulled out an official-looking scroll, unrolled it, and promptly tore it in half. The edges shimmered as a spell activated, releasing soft golden dust into the air. It hovered between them, swirling steadily—clearly a lie detection enchantment.

“This,” Kael said, gesturing at the swirling magic, “whatever is happening now, isn’t in the recorded texts.”

Riley narrowed his eyes as the dust continued to spin without pause.

“But I knew about the possible risk,” Kael added calmly.

“I didn’t tell you because your body might have rejected the sigil if you were stressed. I was certain it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Riley’s entire face twisted. What the hell kind of logic was that? Was this lizard trying to make things better? Because it was absolutely not working.

And more importantly, how could anyone be certain about something like that?

“And as for the duration,” Kael continued, “I didn’t bring it up because it coincides with the terms of your original contract.”

He glanced over, completely unbothered by the burning stare Riley was shooting at him.

“I thought it would be better that way. The protection would last even after your service ends.”

“You wanted to be able to do something afterward, right? This would’ve allowed you to do so.”

Riley blinked.

Kael’s tone didn’t change. If anything, it got more matter-of-fact.

“You likely won’t end up with the same issue your father did. The criteria for most offensive spells to affect you now is that they must come from someone stronger than the brand owner.”

He paused.

“So, for anything to work against you, it must be stronger than me.”

The dust continued to revolve smoothly, showing no indication of falsehood.

Riley’s brows furrowed.

His brain, still catching up from everything else today, finally tripped over the newest question.

“And why are you telling me all this now?”

Kael pointed.

Not at him.

But at the bowl of tomatoes on the counter.

“Because this is annoying,” he said. “And you look like that.”

Riley’s cheeks puffed out instantly.

He turned toward the tomatoes, then back at Kael, then at the still-spinning lie dust.

Oh no. Kael genuinely thought he looked like a tomato.

The audacity.

“Can it be removed?” Riley asked abruptly.

That was when Kael’s eyes changed.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

The slits of his dragon form suddenly gleamed, narrow and sharp. The shift was subtle, but the aura wasn’t. Riley flinched without meaning to. He had forgotten. Completely forgotten that this man he’d been slapping, pinching, and yelling at was still a dragon. One who could end most problems with a flick of his wrist.

But instead of getting scorched, Riley got an answer.

“I don’t know,” Kael said at last. “But we can try finding out.”

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t know,” Kael repeated, sounding more tired than angry now. “We’ll have to check for more information.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll just check, then. Anyway, we’re going to the main estate in two days.”

“???”

“What?”

Kael raised a brow.

“What, did you seriously think it wouldn’t reach the dragon clan when there’s a high probability that the entire Eryndra knows already?”

“!!!”

Riley gasped.

He had forgotten.

He’d completely, utterly, tragically forgotten.

The rumor mill.

The gossip networks.

The trees.

“So, honey,” Kael said, voice returning to its usual smug cadence, “unless you want to show up looking like you’ve been had, with all those hickeys, I suggest you stop it.”

“What hickeys?!”

Kael smiled, which was never a good sign.

“Well,” he said, “see for yourself.”

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