Why? Misa narrowed her eyes and stared at the man before her, taking in his noble features. His straight nose, his almond eyes, his rounded jaw. She wasn't going to deny that he was handsome, that he would likely be able to woo any woman he came across, and he certainly carried himself well enough that he straddled the line between arrogance and confidence.
But a pretty face wasn't enough to earn a luxury such as a paintroom by itself. So why? Why did a mere attendant, a mere servant of the royal council, have a leisure room to himself? And why did he hold so much power over a princess?
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice smooth, cold, and laced with the arrogance Misa had come to despise. "I thought I made it clear that witches were not to leave their designated area."
"The
