Neron and Lanisya sat tangled in writhing vines, silenced by Elira's chloro magic. Their muffled protests sounded like distant squeaks, and the sheer absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on Argider. The room felt heavy with awkward tension. Traitors, secret half-siblings, sons she didn't even know she had, and a palace falling apart—it was like fate had decided to hurl every plot twist possible at her all at once.
"Maybe I should just resign," Argider muttered under her breath, leaning against the balcony railing.
Meanwhile, below, the palace guards were in full reprimand mode. Inspection teams roamed the corridors, barking orders at servants and scrutinizing everything from potted plants to decorative armor.
"Hey! You!" one guard shouted, pointing at a bewildered maid carrying a tray of tea. "Where were you during the commotion?"
The maid blinked. "I-I was in the kitchens, sir, making the tea... for you."
