For the first time, Dax's laugh wasn't low or careful. It was rich, unrestrained, carrying that particular timbre that made lesser men fold their shoulders without knowing why. "Pastries," he echoed, savoring the word like a threat disguised as indulgence.
"Yes. Did you two make up?" Lucas asked, his voice mild, almost innocent.
"That shouldn't interest you."
Lucas's lips curved faintly. "Dax, you've read my memories from the past life; there was no Christopher in them, not with you. His brother Andrew Malek got to be part of the Blacks, and I'm sure they either hid him or gave him to someone else."
Silence pressed down the line, heavy as stone. When Dax finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of crown and kingdom, every syllable measured like a verdict.
"You presume much, Lucas. You were so away from the world in your past life that anything could happen without you knowing. I gave Christopher time, that is all you need to know."
