/lit/ - Literature

>Usually Rohan even worked through his meals, but this morning he ignored duty in favor of the fun of watching his wife give in to nerves.
>Her turquoise silk bedgown billowed around her as she paced. Three times she had braided and unbraided her long firegold hair, dissatisfied by every effort. With each sharp movement of her fingers, her emerald flashed in the sunlight. A selection of gowns was heaped on her lounge chair, but she had not even begun trying them on, occupied for the moment with doing something about her hair. Her muttered curses and the occasional hiss of sheer annoyance amused her husband greatly.
>At last he said, “You never took so much trouble dressing for me.”
>Sioned scowled at him. “Sons are more observant than husbands— especially when the son has been gone for three years!”
>“May a mere husband make a suggestion? Why don’t you just look the way you always look? Pol will be expecting to see his mother, not the High Princess in all her silks and jewels.”
>“Do you think so?” she asked forlornly, and blushed when he laughed at
her. “Oh, stop it!
what did Melanie Rawn meant by this?