It was not be accurate to suggest that her features hardened. That she allowed his words in any fashion to make that deep a mark on her person. She simply would not.

Instead Reinette sat in repose, as close to a state of unfeeling as she could manage. Through the years, she had nearly perfected it. The last time -- the night of the Yew Tree Ball -- had been her greatest lesson.

"Some of us are not allowed that liberty."

Something different between them, then. It was good, she thought. He was far too close as it stood.