Being sized up by that strange gaze from head to toe was genuinely embarrassing. Whenever other nobles looked at her, they were always impeccably respectful.
"You…"
Arlya was anxious to slay the dragon; she had no time to fuss over such things. If they delayed any longer, this perfect opportunity would be wasted.
"I surrender. I'll behave. Let's team up."
Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz, yet exceptionally pleasant to the ear—especially that aggrieved, pleading tone. Paired with her look of disdain, the contrast was striking.
Why did she seem even easier to tame than expected? She clearly had the proud demeanor of an icy beauty. Phield was almost thrown off by it.
So this was what people meant by contrast? It seemed increasingly likely he could obtain a third Divine Chosen.
Still, judging by Arlya's tone, it almost sounded as though she were teasing a kitten or puppy. Perhaps it was just his imagination.
"A-alright."
