Dax paused mid-turn and pinned the doctor down with a gaze straight from hell.
Dr. Bird adjusted his glasses, a gesture that usually meant bad news, delicate news, or news the king wouldn't like.
"Speak," Dax said, already looking one heartbeat away from tackling the old man for stalling.
Bird stepped forward, sliding a set of graphs toward him with the softness of someone approaching a volatile apex predator. "It concerns the lingering effects of the suppressants on his pheromone reception."
Dax's jaw flexed. "So bad news."
"Yes," Bird confirmed. "As we informed Your Majesty and the Consort three months ago, it was nearly impossible to assess the full extent of the damage until the medication cleared his system." He paused, glancing at the charts like they might deliver him from death. "Aside from the delayed heat and the withdrawal symptoms he already pushed through… he seems unable to recognize scents."
Silence snapped across the room.
Andrew's eyes widened a fraction.
