CHAPTER 63: CLINGING TO SURVIVAL

It was not, however, all three.

As it turned out, his father had been giving him an actual, legitimate survival tip. Because when Riley arrived with his stoic boss and current "companion," it became painfully clear that no one had been exaggerating.

"Ah, so that’s the mate."

The way Riley’s face almost twisted at the use of the word "mate" would have been plain for the world to see, if not for Kael stepping forward just enough to block the view.

Thank all the ancestors for that, because the likely ancient dragon in front of them seemed absolutely determined to get his say in.

"Dragon Lord Kael. It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought you’d actually bring someone over?"

A slow blink. A flicker of sharp teeth. "A human of all things." His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and Riley was fairly certain he wouldn’t be the first and last one to measure him like prey. Not when his father had been so serious about dragon customs before they left.

Which really made Riley question whether his father ever listened to himself. After listing an entire encyclopedia of ways a dragon could kill him, how could they still think there was no safer place than right next to one?

Incarceration for not bringing a gift? If it worked like that, was it still a gift or more like a tax with better wrapping paper?

Riley had brought up this exact issue only to be met with the surprising explanation that while dragon customs looked complicated, they were, in fact, much easier than human society and human dynamics.

Riley’s eyebrows shot up so fast he was sure he’d just witnessed his father calling the entire dragon race simpletons without actually saying it.

Lawrence Hale coughed, probably to disguise the fact that yes, that was exactly what he had just implied. "In reality, while they sound like they have the oddest customs—"

No kidding, Riley thought, remembering that little rule about complimenting wingspans.

"—They also have an easy rule that overrides all other customs: strength speaks."

And so, Lawrence Hale reminded his son that when push came to shove and nothing else worked, it was better to think about recovering one’s dignity later.

Because only the living had the chance to feel embarrassed. And what was the point of pride if you were dead?

"???"

At first, Riley thought his father was speaking in riddles again, like some retired philosopher trying to sound wise over tea. But no, it was just an abbreviated way of saying: hug the right thigh to survive.

Except—how come he hadn’t told him clearly that he’d have to hug more than just the thigh?

Because Riley was sure of it. He was being sized up.

Not just glanced at. Not politely studied. He was being measured like a particularly unusual cut of meat, the kind where you are not sure if it should be grilled, stewed, or mounted on a wall for decoration.

His thoughts were cut short when the being in front of him extended his claw.

Not a hand. A claw.

Riley knew what this meant. Dragons, especially the older ones, believed in their superiority, and this whole claw-offering ritual was an unspoken invitation for lesser beings to show proper reverence.

As a human, Riley should have accepted it.

But Riley Hale was no fool. He knew that if he took that claw, he would be publicly acknowledging this dragon as his superior. And as the Dragon Lord’s current... accessory... that was not going to happen.

In fact, it shouldn’t happen. Not unless he wanted to drag both of them into the mud.

So, the half-hearted accessory clenched his fists and prayed that Kael, this glorified gold-plated lizard, had meant it when he told him earlier to "do whatever you think is appropriate." That part about "whatever happens, we will get out in one piece" had better be true.

Breathing, Riley added silently, because one piece was easy enough to achieve when you were already dead.

Although, in truth, he was not doubting too much. After all, while sorely inconvenient, they had that specific predicament, and he was banking on it right now.

So there he was: Riley Hale, age twenty-five, surrounded by dragons who were probably older than the trees outside, as he gave the barest bow while placing his hand over his chest.

It was a clear rejection of the claw.

The entire entrance went still.

Every dragon present, most in human form, turned their heads to watch with sharp-eyed interest.

It was unsettling how no one blinked except Riley.

He steadied his heart, determined not to let anyone see how close he was to bolting for the nearest bathroom and locking himself inside until the end of time.

The dragon who had been rejected shifted slightly. Shoulders rolled back. There was the faintest spark in the air, the kind that hinted at a transformation.

Then Riley spoke, words tumbling out fast and calculated.

"I apologize, my lord, but I am doing this to protect you... after all, Kael does not like it when I touch others."

Then, before anyone could question it, and before he lost his nerve, Riley stepped closer and, very begrudgingly, clung to the Dragon Lord’s arm.

Kael’s body went still, a faint and almost imperceptible flinch at hearing his name spoken so casually in public.

Riley pretended not to notice.

A ripple went through the gathering dragons.

At first, it was pure shock, like the moment a goblet shatters in the middle of a banquet. Conversations broke off mid-sentence. Heads turned sharply. Even the air felt like it had stopped moving.

The second wave came as disbelief. Brows lifted. Eyes narrowed. One dragon’s jaw actually dropped before he caught himself and shut it again.

A human had just latched onto the Dragon Lord. In public. In full view of his own kind.

The audacity hung in the air like heat off sunbaked stone. Riley was almost certain he saw one dragon in the back mouth the words "is he insane" to the one beside him.

Then came the final shift, when the realization settled in.

Dragon Lord Kael did not remove him.

He did not glare.

He did not even clear his throat in warning.

The Dragon Lord simply stood there, golden eyes steady, letting it happen.

Somewhere to the left, a dragon in an immaculate coat gave the smallest nod, as if Riley had passed an impossible test he did not know he was taking. Another pair traded glances that said, "Did you just see that?" without a single word.

Riley could almost hear the collective mental notes being made. The human clings. The Dragon Lord allows it.

This was fine. Completely fine.

Except for the part where at least a dozen dragons were now staring at him like they were trying to decide whether he was a mystery worth solving or a threat worth removing.

For the record, he was wearing a suit, as always. But for the first time in years, before coming in, he had actually checked in the mirror to see if he looked presentable. He had looked fine, even good, but he was absolutely certain that whatever these dragons were staring at now had nothing to do with his good looks.

The crowd before him could have walked a runway. Every single one of them looked like they had been sculpted from pure ego and expensive fabrics.

And yet it was he who was able to say such a thing and do such a thing while having survived a whole three seconds after the ordeal.

But then, for how much longer?

For they hadn’t even entered the halls.