CHAPTER 73: THE GRACE YOU DESPISED

It wasn’t a common sound. In fact, Riley would argue it wasn’t a sound anyone should be familiar with, unless they wanted it carved into their nightmares.

But when it happened, that was all he could think of.

A whoosh.

Then silence.

Like every single breath of air had been vacuumed out of the hall. The world held still for the span of a heartbeat, and then came the deafening roar of raw power exploding outward.

Riley thought he was about to see the light.

Or, if the universe felt particularly vindictive, one of the eighteen levels of hell. Which level? Well, probably the one reserved for overpaid interns and idiots who would call the dragon lord "honey."

But when the blast hit, Riley realized he wasn’t going to die from the sheer force of it. No, he was going to die from something far worse.

The pain.

It wasn’t his. At least, it couldn’t be. It was too much, too jagged, too overwhelming.

It wasn’t the kind of pain Riley knew from scraped knees, breakups, or assassination attempts. It wasn’t even the bone-deep misery of watching his dreams get bulldozed by a contract signed in blood centuries before he was born.

It was the kind of pain he had never experienced and the kind that he didn’t even think existed.

Not that pain was foreign to him. While Riley had a lot of grievances upon being forcefully employed by Kael, he could safely say that he’d had a great life.

His parents had been supportive of what he had wanted to do and had provided him with everything that could possibly aid him in achieving his dreams, which was probably why being thrown into this mess irked him, because it was as if his parents had flipped a switch and suddenly he had been forced to change the course of his life.

But despite having a happy childhood and having a generally optimistic disposition in life (which is definitely not so obvious now), it’s not like he didn’t know of pain.

That was precisely why he was sure that this was something else entirely.

It tore through him, splitting him wide open, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water. His lungs heaved, his chest ached, and to his utter mortification, his eyes gushed with tears he hadn’t even given permission to fall.

Which was how Riley knew.

It couldn’t be his pain.

It had to be Kael’s.

Kael Dravaryn, the Dragon Lord himself.

The golden menace whose eyes had narrowed into slits, blazing with fury and grief all tangled together, unleashing power so raw it burned the air.

The hall was screaming. Riley knew it must be screaming. Dragons were shouting, scrambling, roaring in panic. But he couldn’t hear any of it. Kael’s power had swallowed sound whole, devouring everything until only silence remained.

And in that silence, Riley understood.

This. This was why Kael was the Dragon Lord.

Not because of his size, or his wealth, or his overinflated sense of entitlement. But because in this moment, he held the kind of power that could suffocate worlds.

Riley should have been terrified.

But he wasn’t.

Because all he could feel was the pain crushing his chest, twisting through his heart until he thought it might stop beating altogether.

Kael’s pain.

It was too much. Too sharp. Too real.

The aide couldn’t stop himself. His hands clutched his chest as though that would make a difference, as though he could shield himself from the agony tearing him apart from the inside.

He turned toward Kael, desperate. His throat was raw, his voice barely scraping out past the weight on his lungs.

"Kael..." Riley begged, shaking, "...please... please stop."

Stop.

Stop what? Riley wasn’t exactly sure. But he wanted it. He wanted the pain to stop clawing through him. He wanted the tears he hadn’t signed off on to stop leaking out of his eyes. And most of all, he wanted to stop seeing that face.

That face that looked like it had died once, only to be dragged back alive in the cruelest way possible.

Because that’s what Kael looked like right now.

Like someone who could use a good cry.

And Riley had no idea what to do with that. He wasn’t used to this. He had seen Kael furious, smug, annoyed, smug again, and maybe—just maybe—fond. But he had never seen this. He wouldn’t even have known the difference if not for the pain they were sharing.

This wasn’t just wrath.

This was anguish.

And Riley couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the pain finally breaking his brain. Maybe it was the tears he couldn’t stop. Maybe he had just completely lost his mind.

But with the last scraps of strength he had left, Riley turned toward Kael.

He reached up, grabbed the dragon lord’s face with trembling hands, and pulled him down until his own tear-streaked face blocked Kael’s line of sight. He pressed forward, practically collapsing into him, muttering and pleading against his chest.

"Kael, please..."

"..."

There was a beat.

But just like that, the impossible happened.

The suffocating pressure that had swallowed the hall—power so raw it had silenced dragons—snapped back. Vanished. As though yanked into the dragon lord’s chest by sheer force of will.

Kael blinked, pulled out of whatever storm had consumed him. His eyes widened, golden and shaken, belatedly realizing where he was and what had just happened.

Riley, on the other hand, had gone limp. Still clutching Kael’s head, he sagged against him, whispering faintly, "Thank goodness..." before slipping into unconsciousness.

Kael’s body jolted as if he’d been struck.

He quickly shook Riley’s shoulders, his scowl darkening with every heartbeat that passed without an answer. His hands were steady, but his face twisted into something terrifying until—finally—he felt the fragile rise and fall of Riley’s chest.

Only then did he release a slow breath.

Only then did his fury settle.

Kael lifted a hand and cast a shimmering barrier around Riley’s small form, sealing him off from the chaos. Then his gaze rose to the dragons still in the hall.

The scene was pitiful.

Several dragonlings had fainted outright, collapsed in heaps against one another. The ones still conscious huddled in place, wings pulled in tight, eyes squeezed shut as though bracing for annihilation. Even Seris looked ready to vomit, her face pale, body trembling violently at the sudden cessation of Kael’s power.

The silence cracked when Kael’s voice fell like a blade.

"Chancellor," he ordered, his tone so cold it froze the air. "Take these dragonlings and detain them well. If I see any of them free before their prescribed time, know this: disgrace will be the least of what befalls them."

The Chancellor swallowed, face pale, bowing deeply.

"And this?"

Kael’s lips curved into something caught between a snarl and a hiss. He turned, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

"Learn this well," he said, each word dragging shivers down spines. "This was the grace of the very person you keep looking down upon."

The crowd stiffened.

"If not for him," Kael continued, his voice low and lethal, "then none of you would live long enough to think about a clan you would never see again."

The weight of his words pressed down like a mountain. Dragons bowed, some trembling so hard their foreheads struck stone. Not a single one dared breathe too loud.

And then Kael stood.

He rose from his throne, Riley cradled in his arms like something irreplaceable. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

He wanted nothing more than to burn every single fool in this hall where they stood. But that could wait.

Right now, there was only one thing that mattered.

Getting his fearless, foolish little twig out of this cursed place.