"Ah, lady, it was a lonely business without you in the Labyrinth," he said softly.

"I wish I could have been there. I know how you hate that place. And when they told me you'd been ill—oh, I felt such guilt and shame, knowing I was far away when you—when you—" Carabella shook her head. "I would have been with you, if it had been possible. You know that, Valentine.

But I had promised the people in Stee that I would attend the dedication of their new museum, and—"

"Yes. Of course. The consort of the Coronal has her own responsibilities."

"It seems so strange to me, still. 'The consort of the Coronal'—! The little juggler girl from Til-omon, running around Castle Mount making speeches and dedicating museums—"

"'The little juggler girl from Til-omon,' still, after so many years, Carabella?"

She shrugged and ran her hands through her fine, close-cropped dark hair. "My life has been only a chain of strange accidents, and how can I ever forget that? If I hadn't been staying at that inn with Zalzan Kavol's juggling troupe when you came wandering in—and if you hadn't been robbed of your memory and dumped down in Pidruid with no more guile to you than a black-nosed blave—"

"Or if you had been born in Lord Havilbove's time, or on some other world—"

"Don't tease me, Valentine."

"Sorry, love." He took her small cool hand between both of his. "But how long will you go on looking backward at what you once were? When will you let yourself truly accept the life you lead now?"

"I think I never will truly accept it," she said distantly.

"Lady of my life, how can you say—"

"You know why, Valentine."

He closed his eyes a moment. "I tell you again, Carabella, you are beloved on the Mount by every knight, every prince, every lord—you have their devotion, their admiration, their respect, their—"

"I have Elidath's, yes. And Tunigorn's, and Stasilaine's, and others of that kind. Those who truly love you love me also. But to many of the others I remain an upstart, a commoner, an intruder, an accident—a concubine—"

"Which others?"

"You know them, Valentine."

"Which others?"

"Divvis," she said, after some hesitation. "And the little lords and knights in Divvis's faction. And others.

The Duke of Halanx spoke mockingly of me to one of my own ladies-in-waiting—Halanx, Valentine, your native city! Prince Manganot of Banglecode. And there are more." She turned to him, and he saw the anguish in her dark eyes. "Am I imagining these things? Am I hearing whispers where it's only the rustling of the leaves? Oh, Valentine, sometimes I think that they're right, that a Coronal should not have married a commoner. I'm not one of them. I never will be. My lord, I must be so much grief for you—"

"You are joy to me, and nothing other than joy. Ask Sleet what my mood was like last week when I was in the Labyrinth, and how I've been since you joined me on this journey. Ask Shanamir—Tunigorn—anyone, anyone at all—"