Anne does her best to study his features, as much as one can with blurry vision and poor lighting, but she's sure she's never seen him before. The voice is familiar, though, so he must be some sort of castle denizen, she suspects. She's heard countless voices over the journals, she can't be expected to remember all of the names attached to them this soon.

She feels guilty to be thinking of such trivial details, to stop walking, to laugh. It sombers her almost instantly, though a smile born of high manner remains, along with her jest.

"Are men as free with their hearts as women now?"