But that would be assuming he had enough blood left to spare for something like that. Clearly, he had overestimated himself when he thought he could walk through the archives without incident.
"Sir..." The word slipped out with a gulp, his throat tight.
Kael ignored him, golden eyes fixed on the pages he was scanning. The faint twitch in his brow said enough.
"I meant, Kael..." he corrected hastily, shifting his grip on the book in his hands. "Maybe I should just... go back?"
"Go back?" The dragon lord didn’t even glance up, flipping another page as though the question were the most trivial thing in existence.
"Yes," came the strained reply. His whole body trembled. After all, who wouldn’t panic when several towering guardians—creatures carved from stone, wood, and shadow—were watching from different directions. Watching him. Up close.
The thought struck like lightning.
What if they were staring because he had food tucked somewhere on him? He prayed that in some past life, he wasn’t the kind of cursed princess who attracted animals, in this case, monsters, simply by existing.
Surely he wasn’t that unfortunate?
"What’s the matter? Are you not interested in finding out more about the sigil?"
His jaw nearly unhinged at that. "It’s not that!" he snapped, voice pitching higher than intended. "But how could I possibly absorb any information when I’m being surrounded like this?"
The book trembled in his hands as he tried to keep his eyes locked on the page. If he lifted his head, he’d be face to face with Thyrran—the giant serpent guardian who had already scarred his sanity once.
"Did I do something wrong?" he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Is it not allowed to sit here? Or is there a problem with other races being here?"
The moment he touched the book earlier, the entire archive seemed to stir awake. Shelves shifted. Shadows deepened. Even Thyrran’s massive form had once again uncoiled, eyes fixed directly on him. His heart had nearly burst.
It wasn’t just him, though.
Even Kael had gone quiet, his page-turning stilled. Not because he was unconcerned, but because even the Dragon Lord himself wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.
Every guardian in the chamber stared. Just stared. Watching his every move like he was some rare, skittish animal.
Why were they doing this?
No answers came, only the heavy press of their collective gaze. If this continued, they’d accomplish nothing. Kael finally set his book aside and decided to handle it himself, since the guardians clearly had no understanding of personal space.
"Stay here for the meantime. Like this, you should understand you’ll be protected enough," he said matter-of-factly as he pulled the mortal firmly into his lap.
A startled breath caught in his throat. Ideally, he would have shoved away and fired a dozen complaints about unnecessary dramatics. There was no audience, no reason for such an arrangement. But the guardians’ piercing eyes were still fixed on him, and suddenly, he didn’t have the courage to wriggle free. Better this than being stared at like prey.
"Is it impossible to just maybe... bring the research materials outside?" he tried, voice tight.
"Impossible. Even magic cannot be used here without express permission from the guardians. So surely, you could just imagine taking something from here."
"What?!" His whole body jerked in outrage, nearly slipping from Kael’s hold before the dragon steadied him with one arm.
"Then all that about protection—how are we supposed to protect ourselves if even you cannot use magic here?" He wriggled again, clearly convinced Kael’s only purpose was to serve as a very smug, very golden meat shield.
The reply came flat, steady, and maddeningly self-assured. "I’m a dragon."
Every muscle in him screamed to retort, No shit.
But then Kael continued, voice low and steady, as if the logic should have been obvious from the start. "They are not supposed to take on dragons, provided no infraction is being made. And because you practically smell like me, with my blood on you, that should count."
His head snapped up. "Then why do I have to sit like this? And how could it count when it’s just a drop? How could they even still catch that scent?" The complaint came out sharp, but underneath it was genuine disbelief. No offense to the guardians, but could statues really retain their olfactory senses?
Golden eyes cut downward, unimpressed. "Because you look like you’re about to have a stroke with your back exposed to them."
That shut him up for a beat, his mouth opening, closing, then opening again. The smug lizard had a point.
But then, even as he sniffed at that, the golden lizard still continued, "And you talk about a drop, when a drop was apparently enough to have us searching like this."
Silence weighed between them. His brain tried to keep up with the absurdity of it all, but his body betrayed him. Frustration boiled, and yet he found himself forgetting about the eyes watching them.
Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the dragon’s presence, his body practically the size of a wall, a cocoon that shielded him from every direction. Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit the relief that came from sitting here, of all places.
After all, wouldn’t they really end up nabbing the dragon lord first if he were the first one they could make contact with?
Yeah, sure.
But still, just because he made a point doesn’t really excuse all the issues. So before he could think better of it, a mutter slipped out. "If everyone’s sense of smell is that sharp, then how come no one mentions that it’s like we’ve got a merfolk in our midst..."
The dragon’s head tilted slightly. "What did you say?"
He scowled, instantly regretting his loose tongue. Curse that blasted hearing. His first instinct was to wave it off, but curiosity won out. "About the Chancellor... Is he by any chance part merfolk? Or maybe he has a private salted pool?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Kael’s face, a subtle lift of his brow. The dragon looked briefly puzzled, which was rare enough to make the aide’s stomach twist.
"Why are you asking?"
"Did you not smell that strong scent of merfolk earlier?"
Golden eyes sharpened. "Merfolk?"
"Yes." He gestured faintly, frown deepening. "By the looks of it, though, it seems like he’s always smelled like that?"
Kael’s brow furrowed, thoughtful. The Chancellor was much older than most dragons alive, including him.
It was true—he had always smelled that way. From the moment anyone had known him. If the scent had been there for a millennium, then no one would notice it as odd anymore. So much so that instead of thinking he smelled like merfolk, others might think merfolk smelled like him.
"I’ll ask my parents," Kael said at last, surprising him with the seriousness of the reply. Then came the follow-up, just as calmly, "Is there anything else about him that seems off to you?"
The question caught him off guard. Was Kael actually considering his observations like they mattered? Apparently so. His lips pressed together before he decided he might as well keep going.
"The Chancellor didn’t react much to the dragonlings’ claims. All of them declaring themselves mates. If he were a truly responsible adult, wouldn’t he have chastised them more? Or at least looked appalled that they were spouting something that could get them killed?" His tone sharpened as the memory resurfaced. "But instead? He just stood there. Sure, he looked constipated, but not constipated enough."
For a moment, he almost doubted himself. Teachers weren’t obligated to tank blows for students, sure, but they were supposed to care at the very least. And yet, the Chancellor hadn’t looked the least bit bothered.
Nothing.
Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was pulling at threads that weren’t there. But saying it now was better than regretting it later.
Kael nodded slowly, considering the words, clearly turning over oddities that he himself hadn’t bothered to check. Expressions. Small things. Things he rarely paid attention to.
A long exhale slipped out as the aide leaned back, shoulders finally loosening. He had told Kael what had been gnawing at him since the banquet. Well, mostly.
But for the other thing, he might need a bit more finesse.
Or a lot more research. So if he wanted to get anywhere, he might as well start now.