[That gentle touch didn't interrupt his work, but nevertheless Peter's fingers stilled. This time, however, it was only long enough to grab the bit of twine he'd laid on the counter before he was back, wrapping the tails of his work tightly before knotting it secure.]

He's a king of his own country. He has a suitor. He's mourning the death of his wife. He has a child, though that is probably the least of my concerns.

I don't know how this works, Edmund. I'm not Susan.

[He'd had lovers before, but never another Son of Adam. Never an actual suitor. Nor had he ever actively pursued anyone. He was awkward and out of his depth.

But at least he was finished with Ed's hair. The end result was a delicate weave of braids that left most of that dark hair free to spill elegantly.]