Carter stormed into the house, his cloak flying with the wind as he walked in. The white-haired woman scrambled to her feet, fear flashing in her eyes.
"My lord," she blurted, head bowed as if her neck would fall.
Carter's gaze flickered over the dark and red-painted room. "Tell me, Alma. What did I just hear?"
The woman swallowed heavily, glancing at what she'd been working on before he came and bent down to pick it up.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but I'm afraid the sperm isn't of his majesty," she repeated.
Carter's face grew redder, and his eyes grew darker. "And what do you mean by that?" he snarled.
The woman flinched but stood her ground. "The sperm doesn't belong to his majesty," she stated matter-of-factly.
"And if it's not his majesty's, then whose can it be, huh?"
She lowered her gaze. "That, I cannot say, my Lord. You asked me to perform my services, to extract and prepare the sample for the young missus. But the energy, the essence… it isn't his."
