Angelo didn't show up for our meal the next morning, which happens every first day of the week. The tradition, started by the King decades ago, was meant to keep track of our work for the days ahead. Not that I'd call it much of a meal, seeing as we're all served the same thing: blood. It was more of a conference.
"I've set up an appointment with our healer for the end of next week," the King announced, his gaze flicking between his son and I, "to see how things are progressing."
I knew what he meant. He wanted to see if I'm carrying his grandchild or not.
"I trust your bride had an...interesting conversation with Rayna's husband last night?" he asked nonchalantly, his red eyes fixed on Ravić.
"Yes, Father," Ravić replied curtly.
"I'm surprised you'd let something like that happen, my son."
Ravić clenched his jaw, swallowing back a reply, opting to take a slow sip from his drink instead.
"You've changed," his father said, smirking into his chalice. "I'm glad."
