“My Prince,” The servant dutifully waiting outside for Prince Esteban bowed as the prince strode past him but the eldest son of Wohar was far too disturbed to acknowledge the frivolities of his overcompensating friend. Esteban pondered on how much doubt he had imparted into the woman inside the chambers he just exited. He was terrible at social gatherings and this, this was just the height of it. Esteban knew in his truest of heart that he did not get his father’s guest a glass of water because he was that kind. If he truly wanted to be honest with himself, Esteban knew he only wanted to have another conversation with her. The foreigner seemed to hate Esteban and something about that trivial fact seemed to excite Esteban. He was so used to being treated with respect and the false privilege
