He takes a seat across from me, obviously uncomfortable in my presence. "What can I help you with?"

"You can help me with an explanation of the events that transpired while my wife was in your office."

A bead of sweat hovers on his forehead before trickling down over his brow. "The purity test?"

"Unless there is any other occasion I should be informed of," I answer blandly.

"I was under the impression that you requested it," he states.

"And you thought it reasonable to perform such a request without speaking to me directly?"

"It's not uncommon for a groom to make such a request," he defends. "As I’m sure you are aware, it is a standard practice within The Society. Men who are to be married often want assurances. It is also requested frequently by the bride themselves, a subtle way to alleviate any doubts, should they arise."

"Perhaps other men accept this explanation, but I do not. So, let me make my position clear, Dr. Chambers. You never should have touched my wife without my explicit consent. I don't think this is something that requires a great deal of thought. In fact, I should think it would be obvious what my feelings on the matter might be. It leaves me to wonder about your motivations for such a treasonous act."

"It was not done with ill intent." He tugs at his collar, the sheen of sweat now dripping down his neck. "I can assure you of that. If you are questioning the ethics of my practice—"

"I am questioning your very loyalty." I narrow my eyes at him. "You are aware it is within my power to have your medical license revoked. With a single declaration from my lips, you could be banished or have the lifeblood drained from your very body. So, why would you risk it?"

"I don't know what you think happened in that exam, but—”

"That's precisely what I would like to know. How did my wife end up with bruises on her body? Was it you or someone else?"

His eyes dart to the phone as if there might be someone he could call who would save him from this conversation. But he knows very well there is not. In the hierarchy of The Society, he is barely worth mentioning. He is not a Sovereign Son, and he never will be.

"Forgive me, Santiago," he answers gruffly. "If your wife feels she was hurt in any way, please allow me to offer my deepest apologies. It was not my intention to do so. I was simply doing my job. That is all."

Something about his nervous, beady eyes makes me believe otherwise. But he has always been this way around me, so it is difficult to know for certain. Without Ivy telling me the explicit details herself, there is not much else within the realm of reason I can do at the present.