Everything eventually died down, and soon Lior and Daemar were seated around the small table in Lior's room, a modest spread of food laid out before them.
Lior sighed softly as he stole a glance at the prince across from him. 'Hmm… what am I supposed to do now? Somehow this prince has managed to win me over. If I'm not careful, would I end up saying, "put the tip in"…? Or worse, allow him to put it in once my senses are drowned in pleasure?'
The sharp clink of silver against the table snapped Lior out of his wandering thoughts. His eyes shifted back to the prince, whose lips were pressed into a thin line.
"The form for the college you wish to attend is out," Daemar said evenly.
"I see…" Lior replied, his expression calm, though deep down he was both elated and strangely unsettled.
Daemar's brows furrowed as he studied him, clearly waiting for more of a reaction. But nothing came. Lior's eyes were fixed firmly on his bowl of soup, from which he took slow, absentminded spoonfuls.
