CHAPTER 111: A LIVING FIREBALL

Riley blinked blearily at the ceiling.

"Five more minutes," he muttered once again, already sinking back into the bedding as he unconsciously tested his luck for the nth time this morning.

Only to jolt upright a heartbeat later.

Wait. Five more minutes? Why was he even awake? More importantly, was he actually still alive?

His eyes darted around. White sheets. A pillow. And a definite chill that wasn’t there before he slept.

Was this... heaven?

But no. No, it couldn’t be. Heaven would not, under any circumstances, come equipped with Kael Dravaryn sitting a few feet away looking like the world’s most expensive statue.

That left only the worst option.

Had he died and been condemned to a personal hell where he would be forced to wake every morning under the dragon lord’s golden stare?

Riley slapped his own cheek with a sharp smack.

"Ow—" He winced.

Kael’s mouth clicked in irritation.

The aide’s eyes went wide. He clutched his burning cheek. "I really am alive..."

Just to be sure, he began patting himself down. "Neck. Arms. Legs. Heart. Lungs. All accounted for. Still sporting the full set."

Finally, he risked a glance at Kael. "What happened? Did nothing actually happen?"

His eyes blinked innocently, wide with the kind of confusion that made Kael’s jaw tighten. The dragon lord turned his head aside, as if restraining himself from exploding.

"A good question," Kael said coldly. "Now you ask, after refusing to wake until the alarm on that noisy phone of yours rang."

"Huh?"

Riley looked down, spotted his phone, and reached for it. That was when realization struck.

He froze.

Half. Naked.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The screech rattled the windows.

Kael’s brows furrowed. His voice dripped with dry disdain. "So this is how you repay me."

Seriously?

Riley kept tilting to the side, huddled under a pile of cold blankets that were practically a testament to Kael’s outrageous claim that he’d turned into a human coal for hours on end.

"Wait, so you’re saying something that bad happened? Shouldn’t you have brought me to the hospital?" Riley demanded. "Sir, not sure if you’re aware, but extreme temperatures could cause things like permanent brain damage, seizures—"

"Then should I have brought you to a human hospital where they would diagnose you as a living fireball?" Kael cut in smoothly. "Or should I have said, this is Riley Hale, and he’s ingested dragon blood, so treat him. What are they going to treat you with? Well wishes and prayers?"

Riley’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t argue. Because it was true. By the sound of it, he hadn’t just been hot. He’d been burning.

He ruffled his own hair in frustration, trying to remember something. Did he dream? It felt like he did, but nothing stuck. Just vague heat and static. "Sir, how bad was it? Because I’m not sure now. I don’t feel like anything’s wrong with me." His stomach grumbled in protest. "If anything, I just feel... hungry."

"How bad?" Kael echoed, his tone sharp. "Bad enough that even though someone overheating shouldn’t be doing a cold water bath, someone like you would just easily boil water that wasn’t continually cooled. And you wanted evaporation? Well, if the baths didn’t refill by themselves, you’d have evaporated half of it on your own."

"W-wait, what? Did you just say the baths?"

"Yes," Kael replied, his golden eyes narrowing. "Did you actually get permanent brain damage from doing that from midnight all the way through morning?"

"!!!"

Riley’s eyes widened. Hold on. Was Kael saying he actually brought him to soak?

Apparently, he really did. For hours.

What the actual hell.

He wanted to ask about modesty, but figured Kael would respond with something so scathing he’d want to poison him for it. So instead, Riley asked the more pressing question: "Sir, was that... normal?"

Kael took his time before answering. Because no—it wasn’t. But unnecessary panic wasn’t on his agenda. "No. But then again, how many humans have experienced this?"

Riley’s face soured instantly. Great. So he was a guinea pig now. Wonderful. After all, he also never planned to experience something like that.

Kael stood, beginning to strip off his nightclothes, and Riley’s eyes—traitorous things—followed before his brain caught up.

The dragon lord arched a brow. "Was last night not enough? You even want to watch this?"

"Wha—?!" Riley jolted, scrambled, and spun around so fast his neck cracked. Heat burned his ears as he listened to the quiet rustle of Kael undressing. In his awkwardness, words tumbled out unfiltered. "Sir, thanks for... looking out for me."

Kael made a faint, annoyed sound. But he still answered. "Mn." Then, as though it were nothing, he added, "Then are you going to work, or are you taking that vacation?"

"!"

Riley froze. He really, really didn’t want to. But what choice did he have?

"Work, Sir," he muttered at last. "I’ll take the vacation when it’s possible to leave the house." Because honestly, what if he convulsed somewhere else? Wouldn’t he just die like that?

He would.

So Riley figured he might as well observe himself first before going on that much-awaited vacation.

They didn’t take long to get ready. No one wanted to linger in each other’s company longer than necessary, not after everything that had happened last night.

But when they were about to leave the room, Riley finally asked, "Sir, what about Lord Orien?"

Kael actually stopped. Then, as though the words cost him nothing, he said, "We’ll just have to bring him to the ministry today. He can’t keep on imposing on your family."

Whoa.

Riley blinked at him. Since when did Kael Dravaryn understand the concept of imposing? Unless—oh. Oh, right. Bias. Apparently, it was fine to impose endlessly on Riley himself.

But just because they wanted to take Orien didn’t mean it would be simple.

In fairness, when the dragonling was asleep, he was absolutely adorable. It was almost criminal how much. Especially now, when Riley peeked in and saw what had become of the room.

Two children, two minds, and too much creativity.

They had constructed a massive blanket fort that somehow utilized the scabbards of the ornamental swords hanging on the walls. The weapons stood at strange angles, their hilts sticking out like crooked tent poles, with sheets and blankets draped triumphantly over them. Inside the fortress lay Orien and Liam, bundled together, hugging each other in the deep, warm sleep of children who had conquered kingdoms in their dreams.

Riley almost felt bad about waking them. Almost.

He crouched, gently patting Orien’s shoulder. "Your uncle says we have to go back to the ministry today."

At first, there was only a twitch. A flicker of eyelids, the faintest stir. Then Orien blinked awake, groggy until his gaze settled on Riley.

And when the meaning of the words sank in, Riley swore he saw it—the glassy shimmer of tears gathering in the corners of those big dragonling eyes. Orien was trying to be strong, but his trembling lip betrayed him.

Then Liam woke up, catching on immediately. He had no such qualms about holding back. His face scrunched up miserably, and in a blink, Riley was stuck with two crying children and one dragon lord who kept rolling his eyes like he’d been sentenced to the deepest pit of tedium.

"Orien," Kael said sharply. "Stop crying. If you want to return, ask the Hales for permission. And if you finish what you need to do, then you can return. But crying will only make it all take longer."

Two sets of ears perked up at once—one dragonling’s, one human boy’s.

Liam scrambled to his feet, practically bouncing. "Really?! Thank you, Big Brother Dragon Lord, sir! I’ll go ask Mom and Dad!" He bolted out like a streak of lightning, hope renewed.

Orien, meanwhile, wiggled hesitantly in place, looking at Kael with wide eyes. "Is it true?"

Kael’s stare was flat. "When have I lied?"

Riley’s mouth opened. He would very much like to enumerate a few select moments, but to be fair, Kael was normally painfully honest. Too honest. The kind of honesty that sounded like he was actively asking for a beating.

"Then, Uncle," Orien whispered, clutching at his blanket, "what do I need to do?"

"You’ll need to identify people."

Well, it was one hell of a summary of what Orien would have to do, but in this case, it was really a job that only he could handle.