(Next day)
After a grueling morning of taking a bath and dragging myself into another fresh, light, two-layered gown, I am still fiercely fighting the constant throbbing pain in my lower back.
After checking over the security setup Grandpa put together—which is, of course, flawless—I head straight toward the greenhouse. Mirael had come to my room earlier, complaining that Rhaegor had completely hijacked the cooling system and wouldn't move away from the fan at all.
The moment I walk into my greenhouse, my temper flares. There he is, the legendary Skyfire Tyrant, currently lounging in his tiny, pathetic lizard-shaped dragon form right in front of the primary blower, sleeping peacefully like a lazy housecat.
I march right over to him, aggressively grab him by his tail, and lift him straight up into the air right before my face. His tiny eyes snap open, waking up abruptly in absolute shock.
