Good news: Prince Rowan's intel had been spot on.
After repeated verification and careful observation, it genuinely appeared that the increasingly frantic Wyverns had somehow managed to fuck something up.
And the harder they tried to hide their supposedly discreet sense of urgency, the more convinced Riley became that whatever they had managed to screw up was probably very good news for the rest of the continent.
However—
Bad news: That son of a gun's intel was so spot on that, sure enough, the very same goons were out there looking to fuck him up because of it.
Ugh.
To be fair, they weren't specifically searching for Riley.
Not exactly. Or at least not just yet.
Instead, the wyverns seemed to be looking for traces of dragon crypts.
…Just so happens that at the very top of their list would be traces of the black dragon clan.
His clan.
Unfortunately, what could possibly be a larger trace of a supposedly extinct clan than its only living descendant?
Really.
