[Lavinia's POV—Imperial Council Chamber—Continuation]
The silence did not break.
It coiled.
Every noble in the chamber held their breath, eyes flicking between Papa's drawn sword and Count Talvan's infuriatingly calm expression. No one dared speak. No one dared move.
Except me.
I rose.
The scrape of my chair against marble sounded unnaturally loud, and in that instant, the room's attention shifted—not to Papa's blade, but to me.
Papa stiffened. "Lavinia," he warned, low and dangerous.
I did not look at him.
I stepped forward—one measured step, then another—until I stood beside the council table. I placed my gloved hand flat against its surface and leaned in slightly.
Calm. Controlled. Smiling.
"Count Talvan," I said softly.
He straightened at once, bowing shallowly. "Your Highness."
"How thoughtful of you," I continued, tilting my head, "to be so concerned about my womb in the middle of the council."
A ripple of shock went through the chamber.
