etinego:
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he was going to dispute her: that he was not unwed, that he had been wed once and that should have been enough. but it never was when it came to the great houses. his correction died on his lips when she mentions grief, and he knows that she is not ignoring his widower status after all. edwyn shifts and clasps his hands in front of him. “i like to think i can out-maneuver the ladies who seek nothing but marriage, but they use a different sword style than i.”
edwyn looks at her. she seems a fine lady; dornish. perhaps a princess judging by her clothing. he was never well-versed in any of that; to him, a lady is a lady. but she carries herself with poise and grace, something rare this nameday. “unfortunately, i do not have the luxury to be unwed in the coming months. the matchmakers may be pests, but they are not wrong. i am, indeed, looking for a wife.”
it would be easy, she thinks, to be married to this man. he was a son of a great house, set to become warden of the north, and while she wasn’t sure how she would bear in the frigid cold, valena was nothing if not adaptable. and on top of all that, he was extremely easy on the eyes. “you are a rare breed, my lord. more often than not,” she fixed her features into a coy smile. “it is the woman who seems desperate for marriage.”
but there was a sorrow on his face, a longing for a woman who would no longer walk among the living. whatever brief ponderings she had of arranging a match were slammed into a box deep within her mind and locked tight. a man who loved so deeply deserved more than a marriage of convenience. she would not begrudge him the possibility of finding a love match.
“i’m certain you will find a wife by the end of your trip here.”