Orien's hysterical laughter practically rang across the den.
Meanwhile, Riley sat nearby with half his face marked from Kael's ministry uniform, looking so sour he could have been used to make juice.
The little dragonling could not stop laughing after hearing the "unfortunate" news.
"You're actually Uncle's mate now? You?" Orien asked, finally taking his eyes off his handheld device to gawk at Riley as if he had just discovered some ancient, priceless relic that spoke fluent sarcasm.
Riley shivered at the word mate. It echoed like a death sentence. He seriously considered whacking Orien on the head if he wasn't one hundred percent sure that doing so would only hurt him instead.
"No. Definitely not." He cringed as he denied the curse, his entire body twitching like it wanted to recoil from the word itself.
"What? You don't like?" Orien blinked innocently.
Then he tilted his head. "Why? Is it because he hit you?"
