Chapter 36: A Demon King With Picky Taste
"If you don't like it, then why did you let them serve it in the first place?" I demanded.
For a moment Zorathys just looked at me. His eyes were half-lidded, like always, and his expression was unreadable.
Then, with the slow confidence of someone who absolutely knew he was about to annoy me, he leaned an inch closer.
"Maybe," he murmured, "I just wanted to watch you eat."
I froze.
He froze.
The room froze.
Even the leftover steam from the broth seemed to hesitate in the air.
I blinked once.
Then twice.
Then I narrowed my eyes into the sharpest glare I could muster. If he thought that line was going to work on me, he needed to think again.
He got the message immediately; there was no need to tell him twice or glare any longer. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the chair where he sat.
"Or…" he began, softly twirling his fingers together. "There may be other reasons…" He let the words hang.
