Lady Rohanne sat in her solar, a parchment unfurled on the table before her. A list of eligible lords and knights stared back at her, each name written in a neat hand. She absently twirled the end of her braid, her grey-green eyes flickering between amusement and disdain.

“Lord Caswell,” she murmured, tapping the name with a finger. “Old enough to be my father, but rich enough to drown in gold. If only his conversation didn’t bore me to tears.”

Her gaze drifted further down the list. “Ser Leygood. Handsome, young... and dumber than a sack of turnips.” She sighed dramatically. “I could tolerate a dull husband, but not one who can’t tell a stag from a cow.”

A smirk tugged at her lips as she landed on another name. “Ser Tybald. No lands, no title, but gods be good, that face could make the Seven weep. Too bad cheekbones and charm won’t fill the coffers.”

Finally, she leaned back in her chair, holding the list loosely in her hand. “Perhaps a younger man this time,” she mused. “At least the excitement might make it worth the trouble.”

Her eyes lit up as she reached a name further down. A young lord, comely and full of promise. The scroll’s description of his personality matched precisely what she sought: thrilling, dynamic, and far from the dreary prospects she’d considered thus far.

“This one,” she murmured, a rare smile curling her lips. “Perhaps he’s the answer I’ve been looking for.”