The moment our eyes met

t rustle of their silk skirts against the marble floor echoed the urgency of their footsteps, accompanied by the faint scent of lavender and rose petals wafting from the nearby flower arran

ked onto those eyes, and her breath caught in her throat, like a bird taking flight. A jolt of shock ran through her veins, like ice water poured into her very marrow. The baby's eyes were different. One eye shone bright blue, like a summer sky, while the other gleamed with a warm, honey-brown hue, like the richest soil. The Queen's mind reeled, as if she had stumbled into a dark, forgotten chamber deep within the palace. Her thoughts swirled, like a maelstrom, as she struggled to comprehend the significance of this... this aberration. "Good heavens, Mrs. Jenkins!" the Queen exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper, her words trembling like the leaves of a tree in an autumn breeze. "What's this?" The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thickening like a fog rolling in off the Thames. The nursery staff exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale as alabaster. Mrs. Jenkins' expression turned uneasy, her eyes darting to the Queen before settling on the baby, like a bird seeking shelter from a storm. "I-I was about to inform you, Your Majesty..." Mrs. Jenkins began, her voice trembling like a leaf. "His eyes... they seem to be... different." The Queen's face contorted in horror, her eyes fixed on the baby with a mix of shock, disgust, and fear, like a person beholding a monstrous creature from a nightmare. The atmosphere in the nursery grew thick with tension, heavy with the weight of the Queen's unspoken thoughts, like a phy