The baby in the woman's arms gurgled softly, oblivious to the drama unfolding. The entire chamber fell silent, save for the occasional creak of someone leaning forward to catch every detail of this bizarre twist.
"Wait, hold on," Argider stammered, gesturing for the woman to stop crying for just a second. "Our baby? What are you... what do you mean 'our'?"
The woman raised her tear-streaked face, her golden eyes shimmering with sorrow despite her disheveled state. "You don't recognize me, do you?"
Somewhere, buried in the recesses of Argider's memory, a faint connection sparked.
But before she could piece it together, murmurs swept through the chamber, the nobles exchanging glances and hushed whispers like a flock of scandal-hungry pigeons.
What the—?! What should I do? What should I do?! Argider's thoughts spiraled as she darted frantic looks at the sea of stunned faces surrounding her. If only Alvator were here!