The girl looks down at their linked hands, and a few long, rippling locks of her hair fall past her face. "If it were you," she murmurs. "There'd be a little sorrow in your celebration, like as not. The thorn of the rose, the bitterness that brings out the sweetness of wine."

When she looks back up, she smiles, as sweet as rose or wine could ever be. "But it would be such a small thing beside all the rest. Have joy, Daughter of Eve. I do not begrudge the time you have with him, as you do not begrudge the time I had. For I would have him have every good thing all the worlds have to offer."