Sylvandria's entire body went rigid.
Her lips parted before she could stop herself.
"What do you mean…? It's the same… thirty-eight to forty weeks…"
Mark didn't blink.
"And if I go to your world right now," he asked, voice tightening, "and ask any elven elder the same question… will they give me that same answer?"
Sylvandria's pupils began to tremble.
Her silence was the answer.
Mark's jaw tightened. Slow, controlled. The baby in his arms blinked up at him innocently, unaware of the storm brewing.
Then Mark spoke again, but this time his voice carried a sharp edge of accusation.
"If I take a drop of blood from the twins," he said, "and place it beside mine in Liquid White Jade… do you think the blood will mix? Or won't it?"
Sylvandria flinched like she was struck.
"Lu Zhen… please..."
