"Some embracing must have been going on for me to fit in well with these attendants of hers. You don't fit in otherwise." She's quiet a moment. "I forget sometimes that I am dealing with nobility and grew up a merchant's daughter myself. What I consider accepting and what you do must be vastly different, I am sure." A snort, now. "It must have been something horrid enough, or Alia has a horrid temper."

She makes a soft noise of agreement in the back of her throat. Countries can, the big people will. It's just the fate of the world as it is. "I'm afraid I no longer swoon, princeling." She leans in close to him now, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I am the right hand to the Bear King. After that, you do not meet many who are - well, inspiring of swooning. I have developed an immunity. Do you make the fine ladies of the Aorlind court swoon enough to be forced to carry them out of habit?"