[excerpt] Dear Alex
Excerpt From Dear Alex
Note: An old novel of mine currently being converted into a screenplay. Will be posting many excerpts of the old novel… this scene takes place toward the very end of the book. You don’t really need to know anything to understand it, but you might be interested to know that Lady Dee is a really man. 
She was waiting for him on his bed, as he’d commanded. The King shut his doors and locked them, closing the curtains on all the windows, one by one. He could feel her eyes following him around the room, but he ignored her, playing his games of power.
The Lady in red did not seem to notice. “You have fine men, Sire. Lucian is a good man.”
Too good, the King thought for a fleeting moment, and shook his head furiously. He looked at her, her eyes staring back so calmly at him, waiting for him to answer. He said nothing.
She smiled. “But I hear he is no Godric Unbrunner.” She yawned, and he glared at her. “He was murdered, yes? About ten years ago in the dungeons. I heard the stories, very interesting… his body found in chopped up little pieces, locked in a coffin with a note that said his name. They say it was the only way to recognize him. The murderer must have been very kind to leave a note, don’t you think?”
The King stared at her. What kind of woman is this? He growled and thrashed at the air, bounding the room toward her, but restraining himself from hitting her if only because she had the most daring expression on her face. “No. The murderer was my filthy little–”
Her brow twitched in interest. “Yes?”
He stood, staring open-mouthed at her, and then growled and looked away. “Never mind that, woman. Lucian tells me you call yourself the Lady Dee.”
“Yes.”
“What is your real name?”
She smirked, and though he wanted so badly to thrash her, he forbid it. Soon. He would make her scream and cry and beg and moan and bleed oh so soon. Very soon.
“My name is Dee, Lord.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. He would also make her tell him her name. “Where do you come from?”
“The village,” she said, waving a small hand.
“Which village?”
“The one down the road.”
His hands gripped into fists and he visibly shuddered with the struggle to hold himself back. He didn’t want to hit her yet. First he would enjoy her. Then he’d hurt her.
“You are not a peasant, Lady.”
The woman did not answer for several minutes, and the King stared into her fathomless black eyes. Then he stood back in shock, unable to look away. Such hate.
She smiled a dead thing. “No,” she said. “I suppose I’m not.”
