She stills, as if the world might cease moving with her trapped exhalation — statue-like under his gaze, his study. "I hardly remember."

But she yields it consideration before slowly, gently drawing up the dregs of her robe back on her shoulders and knotting the garment once more.

"I was a girl, once. And then, I was not." She turns. "And now I pay for it. It seems a common enough story." How witty she is, and how it sours her mouth. "It ruins me, you understand. To be... tarnished in way no healer or magician can explain, and seek to rule."