Rial remains where he is, silently standing with her, her hand on his cheek, face to face, for a long, long moment. It feels right. It feels comforting, and perfect, and it's where he wants to be. His eyes slide shut.
And then, just as quickly, they snap open and he wrenches himself away, leaping back. The bottle shatters on the stone of the balcony as he half-runs backwards four or five paces, stopping to put his hands up as though warding something off.
"I can't," he says, and the frustration (at her, at him, it's hard to say) is clearly evident in his voice. "Countess - Isplourr - I'm sorry, I cannot."
And then he's gone, sweeping into their quarters, the bedchamber door hissing shut.
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Rial remains where he is, silently standing with her, her hand on his cheek, face to face, for a long, long moment. It feels right. It feels comforting, and perfect, and it's where he wants to be. His eyes slide shut.
And then, just as quickly, they snap open and he wrenches himself away, leaping back. The bottle shatters on the stone of the balcony as he half-runs backwards four or five paces, stopping to put his hands up as though warding something off.
"I can't," he says, and the frustration (at her, at him, it's hard to say) is clearly evident in his voice. "Countess - Isplourr - I'm sorry, I cannot."
And then he's gone, sweeping into their quarters, the bedchamber door hissing shut.