Oh, but he did.
They did.
Riley was sure he could feel all those eyes on him, burning holes through his very soul, as the elven prince cursed him to death in what he felt must have been at least three different ancient dialects.
And yet, one infuriating dragon lord just let themselves be cursed like that!
"???"
"Actually—"
Riley opened his mouth, ready to explain how terribly wrong they were, maybe even suggest they see an ophthalmologist, because clearly there was something wrong with their vision. But before he could get a single word out, the unlikeliest person cut him off.
Kael.
"Just sleep. Or something. But stop squirming."
Riley blinked. Excuse me?
He stared at Kael, and Kael stared back. And there it was again—the eternal eyebrow battle.
Riley narrowed his eyes, raising one brow in a silent accusation. What's wrong with you?
Kael's golden gaze didn't waver. He shrugged ever so slightly, the picture of calm dismissal. Nothing's wrong. Drop it.
