"No? I don't even keep apples in the house."
Her honesty was unmistakable, her face open, innocent.
Nellie had nothing to do with it.
The realization hit like a stone, heavy and cold.
He forced another smile, waving it off. "Never mind. Must've been my imagination. I'll, uh, wash my face. Shake off the grogginess. Then we'll get started with the guidance."
Nellie nodded, turning back to her notes, accepting his words without question, her pen scratching softly against the parchment.
Lor stepped into the washroom, the cool marble a shock against his bare feet.
He splashed cold water over his face, the chill biting his skin, and stared at his reflection in the polished silver mirror.
He grinned at it, a practiced mask of composure, but inside, a fire simmered, sharp and restless.
This wasn't random.
These weren't just dreams.
