[ The relief is like another physical blow, he nearly sags with it. Instead Matthias seizes her hand in his cheek, covering it with his own, as the other tugs her insistently near. Something had broken, with his hesitation, and he will not make that mistake twice. ]

It's not anything you have done. Or anything about you.

[ He says in a rush. Her anger would be merited if so, but it's her hurt and disappointment that are unbearable. It would be horrible, to for her to think that there are lingering doubts — Matthias doesn't exactly enjoy the fact that she's Grisha, but the heart doesn't choose what it wants. He won't refuse its pursuit. ]

There is just... a proper way. [ The Fjerdan way. ] A way that this is done. And we're... I've not...

[ He hasn't finished her rose. He found the folding paper and the right shade, but the shape is elusive and frustrating. Each time it feels within his grasp it slips away. ]