After the discussion with the guards, Javier lingered, finger pressed thoughtfully to his chin, eyes distant as he watched the stream of refugees and the guards keeping order. The usual spark of mischief had vanished from his face, replaced by a seriousness that settled over him like a shadow.
Gloria and Liana exchanged a silent glance. Both could sense it, worry flickering in their eyes.
It was happening more and more lately. Their young master, who a year ago would nap at every opportunity, skip lessons, or tease the maids, was now quiet and brooding. He was already starting to resemble Lord Garius in his manner and the weight of his thoughts.
Liana's hand gently squeezed Javier's sleeve, as if trying to anchor him.
Gloria tilted her head, her teasing smile fading. "Young master… don't start frowning like Lord Garius. It doesn't suit you," she said softly, half-joking, half-concerned.
