The first time she mentions it, it's because of the ladies of the court and all his "Friendly Visits." She's trying to be light. It easier when it's not about her, not about any of the things that are behind her, behind the ash-sooted door outline. Easier when it is him, or about him.
Because Caspian lets her, still. And it's somehow still easy to tease him.
(Like the whole of space and time hasn't truly fallen apart.)
Today, about how maybe he should consider the girl toeing in and out of Amy's sitting room (in her lavendar spring gown and golden spiral curls, fretting her gloves enough they might unravel) since he is still elligable for arrangement according to more than half the court. She nearly deserves it, when he gives her a look and says she is, too.
She wrinkled her nose, and pulled him back, by his shirt, before he fell out the curtained area they were hiding and spying from. Barely settling back down in her pile of skirts, before saying, "I don't think it will happen. I've been down that path three times already, for as much as those worked, and married the minute and half that lasted."
And even if three of those were the same person -- or because three of those were the same person, or even beginning to count the number unanswered proposals that went with the fourth. "I don't think I have another in me."