CHAPTER 200: CHAPTER 200: DANGERS

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.

Killian stilled beside the king.

Nadia inhaled through her nose like she was preparing for impact.

Dax leaned forward slightly. Not much. But enough that the air tightened.

"Clarify," he said.

Bird swallowed audibly. "Christopher’s olfactory receptors haven’t recovered fully. He can smell strong environmental scents: perfume, food, smoke... but pheromonal cues?" He shook his head. "He can’t interpret them. His brain isn’t receiving or processing them the way it should."

Dax’s expression did not move.

Bird continued quickly, as if outrunning judgment. "It’s a result of the long-term suppressant use. Nearly ten years of chemical suppression prevented his pheromone receptors from developing correctly. They’re waking up slowly, but they’re inconsistent. Sometimes they respond faintly. Sometimes not at all."

Nadia took over smoothly. "It’s why he often looks confused in large groups. He can’t sense tension, hostility, or dominance cues like other omegas. He can’t detect shifts in scent that would normally warn him of danger."

Andrew cursed under his breath.

Killian murmured, voice low and grim, "So the Consort has been navigating this palace half-blind."

Dax’s fingers curled once against the table. A controlled, quiet movement that carried more threat than shouting.

Bird pressed on, almost apologetic. "He does recognize one scent clearly, but only one."

Dax’s eyes cut to him. "Mine."

"Yes, Majesty," Bird said quickly. "Your scent breaks through whatever block remains. Your pheromonal profile triggers a full neurological response... heightened, in fact. But for anyone else? He struggles to distinguish anything beyond vague impressions."

Dax leaned back completely, crossing his ankles with the kind of composed elegance that made Andrew straighten instinctively. His gaze slid toward the tall window, the palace gardens reflecting faint gold across the polished conference table.

"He can use his dominant pheromones in distress or danger," Dax murmured, almost to himself. "He can freeze anything if he forces himself."

Bird nodded. "Yes, Majesty. That pathway is unaffected. If anything, his dominant response is more intact than his omega one."

Nadia added quietly, "It’s instinctive. It bypasses the damaged receptors. It doesn’t require him to sense anyone... just to react."

Killian’s brows lowered. "Meaning he can defend himself, but he cannot anticipate danger."

Andrew exhaled through gritted teeth. "Which is worse."

Bird looked down at the graphs again before clarifying, "The Consort’s defensive dominance is fully operational. But his ability to detect pheromonal hostility, deceit, territorial threat, or rut pheromones? Diminished to nearly zero."

Tyler stared at the table, jaw set. "So he is vulnerable to everything except direct attack."

"Yes," Nadia confirmed softly. "If someone stood behind him with hostile intent, Chris wouldn’t smell it. He wouldn’t register dominance spikes. He wouldn’t sense panic or aggression. He wouldn’t know if a room shifts against him. He would only feel normal environmental cues."

Dax’s fingers drummed once against the table, a soft sound, almost elegant, but everyone in the room felt the warning beneath it.

"And this is from the suppressants," he said, voice steady, lethally quiet.

"Yes, Majesty," Bird answered. "The chemical stasis prevented his omega receptors from ever maturing properly. Most omegas develop scent interpretation during their late teens. Christopher spent that period... chemically muted."

Dax’s jaw tightened enough for the muscle to jump.

"His ability to recover?" he asked.

Bird hesitated. "Possible, but unpredictable. It may take months. A year. Perhaps longer. His system is recalibrating slowly, but we cannot accelerate it without risking damage."

Nadia added, "He may regain partial scent interpretation sooner, but full pheromonal sensitivity... we cannot guarantee."

A long, heavy silence followed.

Dax lifted his gaze from the window and centered it on the table. His eyes protective in a way that made Killian straighten and Andrew shift his stance by instinct alone.

"He walks through this palace unable to smell danger," Dax said. "Unable to sense hostility. Unable to distinguish allies from threats unless they speak."

Dax rose from his seat in one fluid motion, the shift in posture enough to pull every spine in the room straighter.

"I have another meeting regarding the northern borders," he said, voice still even but layered with ice. "But before I leave..."

He paused.

Tyler’s breath caught.

Nadia braced.

Dr. Bird swallowed.

"...prepare a full report."

His gaze swept the table, perfectly sharp, as if selecting targets.

"Everything you found. Every clinic tied to the supply chain. Every connection Vivienne Alostora had and every risk Christopher now faces."

He did not raise his voice, but the temperature dropped anyway.

"I want it compiled, verified, and delivered to my private wing by tonight."

No one questioned the timeline. Because no one was suicidal.

"And," Dax added, eyes narrowing by a fraction, "ensure it is written plainly. No medical evasion nor bureaucratic phrasing. The Consort will read it."

Andrew’s lips parted in surprise.

Killian’s eyes flicked up in quick understanding.

"Majesty?" Dr. Bird asked carefully. "Are you certain he needs all of it?"

Dax’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed firm.

"He should know the dangers he is in."

The room went still again, telling all of them the same thing:

Dax wasn’t furious because Chris was vulnerable.

He was furious because Chris had been vulnerable alone for ten years.

Tyler bowed his head. "It will be done, Majesty."

"See that it is," Dax said, already turning toward the door, mantle shifting behind him like a shadow made of authority and violence.

And with that, he left the room, King of Saha in posture, wrath in silence, and worry buried beneath enough control to terrify anyone who looked too closely.