The noon sun was bright.
It cut across the slick surface of Alex's obsidian desk showing Kyle's exhaustion as he sat in the light.
True to his word, Alex had started the lesson the moment the clock struck twelve.
There was no separate desk for Kyle; he was forced to sit in a low, velvet-backed chair pulled up right beside Alex's left side, their shoulders nearly touching as they shared a single, massive volume titled The Chronology of the Divine Void.
The physical closeness was a strange, new form of torture. Kyle could smell the faint scent of peaches and jasmine that clung to the Prince.
"Read the third paragraph," Alex commanded. His voice was cool and steady, but Kyle noticed the way the Prince's thumb traced the edge of the page, a subtle sign of his own restlessness.
Kyle squinted at the ancient script, his mind still reeling from the fact that he could actually understand the language now.
