Elia laughed softly and settled closer against him. "There is nothing but politics in this game, Thomas. Even love is politics. It's all masks and feints- and swords. If your Regent heard such words, he'd have your head. You're to be his, as I am my brother's..." She stopped, and all the mirth went out of her.
"And if the Starks must have my blood, then you will smile and say it's a sweet vintage and cut my wrists to suit them." Her voice was barely a whisper but there was still sorrow in it. It would be hard to see Thomas be lost in the game of thrones, but surely it must happen.