Dax knew his son well.
Reyland was kind, which was his biggest problem, as far as Dax was concerned.
As Marian had wept, Reyland’s pulse had quickened, his breathing had become erratic.
His son had no scent, but he could smell the girl on him.
Talked? That’s all? That’s a bad joke. Dax mused.
But he has not lain with her.
If he had, the scent would have been deeper, stronger.
Also, he would never have sent her away.
Not his son. Not his kind, caring, loving son.
Never.
He told himself as he watched the prince without a throne.
But SOMETHING happened.
I’m sure of it!
Dax stared at his son as his mind worked.
This girl is dangerous.
Her mind is set on my son, again.
But this time, it’s very different.
I can’t let this happen. I don’t trust her.
Her father may be in my hand
