Larks had set his paperwork aside for the evening. It was that time of the day when he closed himself off from the rest of the castle, though today he lounged in the office of his chambers rather than his bedroom.
He held a book in his hands, the base of the spine resting on his desk. A small smile creased his cheeks. He hardly noticed the faint click preceding the opening of his door. If there was a knock, he had not heard it, either. He did, however, spy the figure stepping in, and held his book closer.
"Lord Lucian," he greeted, "is there something I can help you with?"
"Nothing important," Lucian conceded. Nonetheless, he stepped nearer until he stood by the side of Larks' desk, and held open his palm. "Lady Belflower shared peppermints with me, and I was passing by, so I thought I'd ask if you'd like one."
"No thank you," he replied, "but I appreciate the thought." Larks marked his place in the book with a letter from the dwarves, and offered his attention in full to Lucian. Lucian, however, was looking at the book.
"What are you reading?"
Larks hugged the book to his chest. "Nothing important."
"It looks interesting." Lucian set the peppermints on the desk and reached for the book. He plucked it from Larks' grasp with ease that Larks found frightening, and examined the cover wordlessly. Larks' face grew flush.
In His Kiss, a fanciful retelling of the endeavors of a legendary hearthrob from the Olacion Order.
Lucian offered the book back to Larks. Larks leaned forward to reclaim it, and Lucian leaned forward to claim Larks' lips. The taste of peppermint briefly graced his tongue, but as soon as it had begun, it was done.
Larks stared at the peppermints as Lucian made his way out of the room. His tongue flicked between his lips to capture the last of the flavor. Maybe he would like one, after all.