~Serah POV~
Jethro stepped out from the shadows of the doorway, alone, no baby in his arms. His face was calm at first, but the moment he saw me standing there covered in soot and dried blood, something tightened around his eyes. He looked past me to Lydia, then back. "What is wrong?"
Lydia never broke eye contact with me. She kept staring straight into my soul like she could burn holes through it. "Maybe Serah will explain to us how the midwives' hut went up in flames with them still inside, yet here she stands, perfectly alive."
Jethro's head snapped toward me. "Is that true?"
I ignored the question. My throat felt raw, and my voice rough from everything that had happened. "Where is my child?"
"He's asleep," Jethro said quietly.
"I want to see him."
He looked at me from head to toe, for a long moment. The torn dress, the blood-streaked skin, and wild hair. "You won't see our child looking like that, I mean, like a filthy thing."
