Her father, Count Kasper, was a romantic at heart. The sincerity and ferocity of his love for his wife, even after her death, and the intense adoration she held for him before she passed, may someday be a legend. Though they had no great heroic accomplishments, no high achievements, the quiet affection they had for one another never faded over time, and radiated around them when they were in court. They had ruined their children. Vincent would settle for nothing less than that same sort of match. He was unsatisfied with the traditional political arranged marriage of nobility. Silke, on the other hand, was terrified of how love was all-consuming. Arrogantly she assumed she could avoid it altogether, despite being warned it wasn't that easy.

According to Count Johann Kasper and the late Countess Violet Kasper, soul mates did exist, and they were as undeniable as the need to draw breath.

Since meeting Galt, she had honestly believed he would meet someone else. She had seen it happen dozens of times. A man would meet her, be intrigued for one reason or another, realize she was disinterested in matrimony, and find someone more suitable for him- or at least much more willing. There was no shortage of beautiful, demure, available ladies that would have been thrilled to have someone as dashing as Galt make an overture. If they were more practical, they'd be excited at the possibility of wedding someone who had the king's eye and favor, who ascended to the aristocracy of their own merit, and had a bright future ahead of them. There were boons to joining hands with him beyond the status of 'count.' Silke was certain she wasn't the only one that saw the potential for him to climb higher and exert more influence than another man of his station.

Regardless of what she convinced herself would happen, he was undeterred, and not the least bit dissuaded that she could leave him a widower some day. Silke didn't know if he really seriously contemplated her mortality in that moment, but he managed to counter her expertly with perhaps the only argument she'd find persuasive: his unhappiness. If she were to reject him, he'd be miserable. Galt had no intentions of looking anywhere else for a bride. Had it been anyone except him making the assertion, she would have thought it a bluff, yet the former thief was candid when it came to his feeling with her. 

Her convictions wavered. The goal had always been to leave this world harming as few people as possible. If Galt would be harmed by her refusing his proposal, that would harm him. If he would mourn her, and be just as despondent as a bachelor, that was not shielding him from harm either. If he would be forlorn and bitter watching her marry someone else out of obligation, and against her will, that would harm him. There was no outcome in which he wouldn't be harmed by her actions. In these unexpected circumstances, where she could not avoid harm, the path that caused the least was to accept.

"I trust you," she finally said softly. "It's fate that I don't trust." Anything could go wrong. No matter what feelings they held for each other, tragedy was merciless. She could become widow, burying another family member, another loved one, or become bedridden, a burden upon him. The unknown terrified her, paralyzed her, and kept her firmly rooted at a distance from everyone else. It wasn't a change that her mother or Alistair would have ever wanted her to undergo because of their passing. Silke sensed her extreme stance on romance was not honoring their memories. The living and the dead were all harmed, it seemed... including herself, though she would continue to deny it.

"We can start with an engagement. You might change your mind." It was far as she could go for now, and a large step from her formed absolute determination to remain eternally single. "There will need to be a ring before anything can be official," she added, clearing her throat, a light blush touching her cheeks. "I'm not particular. Anything will do. If you can't decide on colors or stones, I like purples the best as they remind me of my mother."