Azura's POV
Rhydor remained perfectly still by the entrance of the room, his broad back pressed flat against the dark wood of the door, his intense amber eyes completely pinned to my face.
Slowly, his gaze dropped down to the stone floor beneath us.
He stared at the white sheets of paper I had ruthlessly shoved off his workspace, tracking the mess all the way over to the far corner where the feathered ink quill lay ruined on the woven rug.
He looked at the disaster I had caused in less than a single minute.
Then, his eyes dragged back up to meet mine.
"Is there something you want from me, Azura?" he asked, his voice completely calm, devoid of any anger.
I pulled my brows together into a sharp, defensive frown.
"What?" I snapped, my posture locking up as I felt a sudden rush of heat hit my face.
"Am I not allowed to simply be in this room? Must I always want some specific thing from you just to stand in your presence?"
