Riley could feel it.
The atmosphere of the hall had shifted.
From curiosity over what he brought, the air now simmered with something sharper. Not quite hostility, because that would at least imply a fight. No, this was worse. They looked at him with the kind of condescension that belonged in a textbook definition of "why bullies existed."
In Riley's opinion, the elder's jab had landed exactly as intended. Not just against him, but against the Dravaryn name itself.
A few dragons smirked as if amused by the spectacle. Others tilted their heads, eyes gleaming with thinly veiled anticipation, waiting for the collapse of the fragile little human. Some even muttered in agreement, though Riley was fairly sure half of them couldn't stand each other most days of the week. But against a human? Well, unity suddenly looked fashionable.
And where was Riley in all this?
In the middle of it all. Like an idiot. Holding a tray that could apparently spark a civil war.
