Adrastus observed him with such intensity that something in Drystan felt vulnerable under the look. The sharp scrutiny in his eyes was worse than the look of anger-fuelled glare.
Drystan slightly raised an eyebrow, leaning forward a little, with an innocent look on his face, the Marquess canted his head to the side.
His expression betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking.
It was as if his face, his body language, all of them were an impregnable fortress. It was hard to decipher what he might be thinking or even plotting.
Adrastus rested his hand on his forehead and sighed.
“You know it's a mandatory procedure and all of us must follow it.“ Even if I do suspect you more than I let on.
He didn't say that aloud, of course.
Drystan watched him, cold eyes sweeping over his body like a chilly winter wind.