Rumors had existed for years that she was a bit touched in the head. Perhaps they'd always been there from the very beginning. She didn't know. Antonin kept her so isolated in those first few years and by the time she was free to move about as she pleased, her reputation as being an enemy no one wanted to have was well-known. Wagging tongues usually fell silent when she entered a room. The older she grew, the longer she spent on the run, the more she wondered if there wasn't some truth to the rumors. Did crazy people ever know when they were crazy?