Jann is minding his own business. He is playing by himself in the courtyard with a wooden sword: this definitely constitutes minding his own business. Nothing that follows is his fault.
"I get the impression he wouldn't have fought very hard even if you'd challenged him the usual way. Roxim's pretty mellow for a dragon."
"Magic, probably. I'm more worried about the fact that apparently I smell like a princess."
"I don't know. Uh, marry up? Probably less inconvenient to smell like something other than a princess, and they're getting your noble status right, just not your gender?"
"Yes. That would be an advantage. However, I don't know any single monarchs I want to marry."
"Well, you never seem to like anybody, and you can't just stay single forever unless you're planning to stick me with Raxwell. Please don't, by the way."
"I've liked people!" he exclaims, perhaps unwisely. "I just don't tell you about it the way you seem determined to make sure everyone you've ever met knows Jann of Raxwell has kissed yet another girl."
"Tall, handsome, seventeen years old, able to wield a sword without breaking your arm..."
Jann snorts. "Come on, though, who? I don't even know what gender I'd be trying to set you up with if you wanted me to help."