Cherion sat perfectly still on the edge of the mattress, his sharp gaze locked entirely on the giant man sitting across from him. He watched closely as the color completely drained from Zarius's rugged, battle-hardened face, leaving the fierce leader of the North looking utterly shocked.
The unshakable confidence Zarius usually wore like armor disappeared so fast it felt like someone had refunded it on the spot. His eyes locked onto Cherion like he'd just been emotionally hit by a speeding carriage, a sudden, rigid panic tightening the lines around his jaw.
Without a word, Zarius shifted his massive weight, moving heavily from the deep armchair he had been occupying. Instead of standing up to defend himself or pacing the floor, he dropped right down onto the carpeted ground. He lowered himself until he was kneeling on the floor, making a sincere effort to appear less intimidating. It was about as effective as a bear trying to look pocket-sized.
