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Summary
“You’re in your prime, Your Grace,” she says flatly. “Your body is lashing out because you're thirty-five years old and have yet to find a mate.”
Wriothesley nearly spits out his tea. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Your body is going to release as much scent as it can in an attempt to attract a compatible mate.”
During an intense rut, Wriothesley accidentally confesses to the Iudex in an unexpected way.