"Your lady..." Lorelle overheard a grisly snarling sound that seemed to be coming deep in Alistair's chest. He snatched up the wine glass with one hand, balanced it in that hand for a moment, and threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against the wall, which collided and shattered into tiny bits of crystal.
And he was in front of her again, standing two feet away, still as a stone. He waited, but she still couldn't speak. She stood without moving, amused at his beastly temptation to scare off others. However, she'd never seen him so competely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. He'd never been less human...or more beautiful. Face stern, eyes wide, she stood like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.
His lovely eyes seemed to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of sadness. "What? Don't look at me like that." She watched his jaw set as he said that, and his eyes darted to her face and away so quickly that she wasn't sure if she only imagined it. Then, as if nothing had happened, he began moving around the kitchen with deliberately unhurried movements; opening and closing cupboards as he went until he found a goblet and poured himself red wine. "I'm tired Lorelle," he said formally, his back turned toward her. "I'm so very tired."
He waited, but she still couldn't speak. So, he continued. "Tired of the throne. Tired of that crown, all those damned courtiers, the false friends, the liars, thieves, whores, all of it. It's funny almost. The way we all look down at the denizens of poorer districts and see them as so far beneath us. We nobility are supposed to be better but here we are. Cheating and scheming and lying and fighting and fucking just like all the rest of them. The only difference between us and the common people is our names and the power we think they hold." He looked back at her and smiled, but his face was ashamed. At that, they stood silently, looking into each other's eyes-trying to read each other's thoughts.
He broke the silence first.
"Let's leave this place Lorelle. You and me, tonight. Damn them all. Let them have their game of thrones, we can leave the board and let them all rot together." he urged on with ever word, he took a step closer, his eyes never left her lips, until he stood in front of her, their noses partically touching. He reached a hand out, and brushed at her cheek; the other pulling her close against his chest with every staggering breath. He lifted her eyes; his expression was wistfu, pleading.
She thought for a moment, unsure what to think. She opened her mouth to say something and shut it almost instantly. Did he mean for the two of us to run away-together? And leave the country and, and... "And what about..?" She asked to break the silence.
They both knew who she was referring to, and it was wrong to even question it. She looked away, he waited, but she wasn't going to finish.