Momentarily stunned by Richard's reaction, Cassiopeia stood motionless for a moment, and then she leant down, touched him gently on the shoulder. 'No. No, please don't leave. It's quite alright. I've always been more sensitive than I ought to be. You're my guest, please do sit down.'
She had expected that her distress would be tactfully ignored, at best, but Richard's apology made her think that whatever else he might be, he was a kind man.
'Do you know something about us traditionalists? We aren't against innovation. Most of us positively encourage it – so long as it is magical in nature.' This was redirection, rather than explanation, an attempt to steer away from the trouble, but then Cassiopeia looked at Richard again, and she sighed.
'I came to Preya because of the war,' she told him flatly. 'I was in London. I couldn't bear it any longer. A gentleman here – a muggle, a kind one, after my time and before yours – he told me that it would end. That it would be years more of struggle, but in the end it would be over. Things would be as they were. It would be safe to return home.'
She paused, took another sharp, audible breath. 'I cannot imagine anything worse. I do not want to know the details. But you must allow me my unhappiness, to know that our people did not learn from the terrible mistakes of Grindelwald.'