"Then I wish you the best of luck. Though it does not seem to me that you will need it," said Aksel graciously.
He nodded. "Yes, Kyra is my niece," he smiled, "though in truth she is as dear to me as a daughter. It was very hard to part with her, when Ser Baelor made me his starry-eyed offer over cards that night," he said with exaggerated lament, his eyes laughing. "But you know how it is--one must not get in the habit of denying the Tyrells anything," he said, with another smooth prick. "And it is often best to let the young people do as they please, so long as it is not altogether mad. Take my Jorelle, for instance--I keep pointing her in the direction of Kyra's wedded bliss, but she will have none of it." Hardly true, but his daughter was far too proud to ever admit otherwise. And the lie did her cause no injustice--some men had a taste for the unattainable, after all, if only for its apparent difficulty.