Most everything her liege had said up to that point had been what they had expected since departing the capital. As such, Florys wondered what this talk of Tommen Blackwood really meant. As far as court custom went, this was nothing short of clumsy, announcing plans to marry someone one hadn't finished negotiating with. When marriages were announced, the terms were expected to be settled beforehand, behind closed doors.

That was, if this was actually unwitting clumsiness in the first place, and not some play-act, a way to put pressure on the houses of The Reach to propose more favourable marriage pacts. Some might call that clever. To Florys it seemed like playing with fire. "I must ask, my lady, when we go to mass in the sept later, will Tommen Blackwood be joining us?" She was not blind to the utility of a groom from distant lands. Florent, Rowan, Tarly, all these houses claimed descent from Garth Greenhand just as House Tyrell, a potential danger for a woman ruling Highgarden. Tommen Blackwood posed no such predicament, yet in turn his house was perhaps the most questionable choice south of the Neck. Do young people these days find some novel curiosity in that absurd tree-hugging they do up north. Frankly she wasn't convinced the Old Gods were so much a faith as a pretext for northern lords to do whatever they pleased and claim some tree had whispered it in their ears. She'd heard rumors that the First Night had died a particularly hard death in that frigid, pagan land.