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Summary
"You shaved your bush?!" The words emerged with the force of a wounded cry, a lamentation for the fallen, a dragon's roar translated into the devastation of a man who had lost something precious.
"Kingscholar. Kingscholar. You have committed violence upon your own person. You have laid waste to the wilderness. You have—" Malleus paused, searching for words adequate to the catastrophe. "You have deforested."
Leona stared at him. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—a terrible, sharp expression that transformed his features from merely handsome to something predatory and amused.
"Holy shit," he said, with genuine delight. "You're actually upset."