She Did Not Love Him

Alexander sat alone in the drawing room, the darkness closing in as he had dismissed Edmund and the rest of the servants. He had even sent the wine away with them, and commanded that most of the candles be put out.

The ball had ended some time ago, and graciously so. Lords and ladies had come to bow to him before their departure, lavishing praise on his bride, their future queen, and expressing delight at the news. Alexander did not care if they spoke the truth or not. Carlisle even had assured of his early arrival on the morrow, before departing with his wife and mother.

Until he had tired of the sycophancy and left, Guinevere did not return to the ballroom, and Alexander had resisted the urge to go after her. Now, sitting in the near-darkness, he stared at the door, burning a hole through it with his intense gaze. She had left rather abruptly. What had he done? What had he said to send her fleeing? How had her expression changed so suddenly?