Juno looked down at Florian, and for the first time since they had arrived, her composure cracked.
There was something nervous in her expression now.
It was subtle.
Florian lifted his gaze to her face, really looking at her this time.
She was old.
That much was undeniable. The years showed clearly in the lines etched into her forehead, the looseness of her skin.
Dark circles sat beneath her eyes, heavy and permanent, as if rest had long stopped meaning much to her. Her white hair was pulled into a neat bun, not a strand out of place.
'She's carried this place for a long time,' Florian thought.
Juno glanced down at her notebook again, fingers tightening around it. She wrote a few words, paused, then added more.
Florian watched the careful movement of her hand, the slight tremble that hadn't been there before.
She raised the notebook.
"What is your question, Your Highness?"
