So who would’ve thought the day could get even brighter?
Yay.
Because if someone asked what could be worse than being locked out?
Well, apparently, it was being locked in.
Yes. In.
Riley knew things were strange from the moment he woke up next to the dragon lord. He just didn’t expect things to be this strange.
The headline itself should’ve been telling. Something this big being announced to the public before the Ministry even got its official report? Definitely suspicious.
Although some would argue the elves had no choice. A lockdown had to be initiated first, and only after that would protocols catch up. Which meant more people ended up hearing about the situation before the Ministry could even draft a statement.
But to Riley, the strangest part wasn’t the timing. It was the elves.
The elves, of all beings.
Elves were notorious gossips, true, but not all gossip carried the same weight. Talk about someone’s love life? They’d form entire clubs dedicated to it. The latest trends? Always on their tongues. Even violent spats—who skewered who, when, and why—spread like wildfire.
But the moment the subject turned to their ruling family, or heaven forbid, the Tree of Life itself? Silence. Dead, suffocating silence. Lips sealed tighter than warded vaults.
So for something this sacred to them—the Moonveil Codex—to spill into the open like this?
Riley’s gut twisted. Something wasn’t right.
Not at all.
But the baby dragon was of a different mind.
"Riley, if you want to go with us, then just say so. If you’re scared, Uncle would probably allow you to just stay behind. No need to say all those, you know?"
Riley’s left eye twitched. And it twitched just as hard as his right thumb and middle finger, which itched to flick the forehead of one smug little dragon.
"Actually, Lord Orien," Riley replied sweetly, the way people spoke right before murder, "I really am scared. But your Uncle likely wouldn’t allow me to leave. And I think I’ll be less scared of going if you were to join us on this trip?"
The effect was immediate.
Orien looked like Riley had just asked him to personally swallow the moon. His golden eyes widened in horror, his stubby legs shuffled back, and his wings fluttered in pure distress. Clearly, he would’ve accepted a beating over this suggestion any day.
Meanwhile, Riley was closing in, not because of the insult of being called scared—he already knew he was scared all the time—but as revenge for dismissing him so casually.
And honestly, what was the problem with being scared? Fear was the reason living beings survived in the first place! Fear sharpened instincts. Fear made you cautious. Fear was natural. It was paralysis that was the real danger, not fear itself.
So no, Riley wasn’t embarrassed about being scared. He was practically proud of it. And besides, who wouldn’t be scared when surrounded by beings who stared at you like you were either a rare insect or tonight’s dinner menu?
His thoughts spun faster, his chest rising as he got more fired up, passion bubbling over until he nearly exploded from sheer righteous self-defense.
But in the end, none of it mattered. Doubts, traps, or dangers aside, this was their job. They had to go.
While Orien—lucky, spoiled, pampered Orien—would get to stay behind and be fussed over by humans. In particular, his own little brother.
How unfair was this world?
Riley thought it bitterly as they deposited Orien back into the estate, where Liam immediately threw himself at the dragonling, sobbing about how lonely he had been. The human boy even circled Orien critically, eyes narrowing as though appraising livestock, before finally exhaling in deep relief.
"That’s good, Lord Orien. You haven’t lost weight."
"..."
Riley was speechless.
Lost weight? Lost weight?! How in the world could Orien lose weight when his entire sulking process consisted of eating?!
The human aide nearly toppled over in disbelief, caught between laughter, outrage, and the cruel realization that yes, this was his life now.
At least they had the mind to say goodbye to him properly. Riley thought it was oddly sentimental, like he was being sent off on some faraway journey.
In hindsight, maybe he really should’ve said a longer goodbye. Maybe he should’ve packed a small chest of letters. And, most importantly, maybe he should’ve brought a whole lot more anti-nausea medicine.
See, the summons came moments after the headlines broke, which only convinced Riley further that the gods hated him personally.
At first, there had been talk of simply dispatching a team. Professional. Standard. Simple. But Rowen Elowen, heir to the Lordship of the High Elves, was not having it.
The elf crown prince’s voice carried through the enchanted channel, smooth as silver but sharp with authority. "This is not a matter for underlings, Lord Dravaryn. We require your active participation."
Kael’s response was calm, measured. "Is that so. Then who else are you expecting to join this party?"
Rowen, tall and regal even in the projection, raised his chin. "A small group. Discreet. Efficient."
"No." Kael’s reply landed like stone.
Rowen blinked, visibly affronted. "No?"
"You make it sound like a matter of grave importance," Kael said. "And for something that critical, a small group is inefficient. Unless..." his golden eyes narrowed, "you have another issue you would rather not admit."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to make Riley sweat.
Rowen’s handsome face twitched ever so slightly, his polished composure cracking just a hair.
Meanwhile, Riley found himself inching back from the table, heart lifting in premature relief when Rowen spoke again.
"Other than yourself, Lord Dravaryn, only elves may participate. For reasons of security."
Music to Riley’s ears. He wasn’t an elf. He wasn’t even half an elf. He was a plain, ordinary human. Saved! He was already planning the paperwork he’d finally get to catch up on when Kael’s hand casually hooked his wrist and pulled him forward.
Riley nearly choked.
Vacation. He should’ve taken that vacation when he had the chance. He should’ve pretended to be sick. Frothing at the mouth would’ve been a better option than this.
Kael’s voice was steady. "If you insist on a small team, then I will come alone. Provided my aide is allowed to accompany me."
Rowen’s face scrunched ever so slightly, as if he’d just been asked to allow a goat into a diplomatic summit. His gaze swept Riley up and down before landing back on Kael. "Is there truly a need for... a human aide?"
Kael did not hesitate. "Surely you don’t expect me to do everything myself." His gaze sharpened. "Much like you dislike outsiders stepping into your lands, I dislike being served by strangers I do not trust."
It was a valid point. Even Rowen could not refute it. Still, his jaw tightened, and his younger sister’s subtle signaling about the rumored bond between dragon lord and aide did not escape his notice.
"Fine," Rowen said at last, voice taut. "We’ll expect to see you before the day ends. After all, this is a matter of absolute importance."
Riley’s mouth opened, then closed. His brain supplied a single thought: Nothing was fine. Nothing about this was fine.
Why weren’t they asking if he thought this was fine, when he could have told them it wasn’t!
And that was hours ago.
Now, airborne on the back of a golden dragon, Riley’s stomach flipped violently. Wind tore at his hair, his eyes watered, and his every mortal instinct screamed that man was never meant to fly like this.
See? How can any of this be fine?!