Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,156

fact, I’ve just discovered three living not far from you, just outside the capital of New Gill.”

There was a pause. And then King Tomrick murmured a quiet, almost deadly, “You don’t say.”

“Yes,” Everett reported eagerly. “And they’re R generation Graykeys, too. Looks like the heathens are cooking up a new batch already after we defeated them in the Great Lowden War.”

“Indeed.” The king’s words were clipped. “Show me.”

“It’s over here. On this map.” Footsteps drew closer. I could make out the material of Everett’s trousers, but then another appeared next to his. The king wore shiny black boots and tight yellow pants.

“Magical cuts in the blood are making it possible to locate, name, and track every blood-born Graykey. There. See. River, Rhage, and Reeva. Not too far from your castle. Remarkable, isn’t it?”

“Well…” The king sounded a little breathless. “I believe your contraption may actually be working after all.”

“It is.” Everett sounded pleased. “And the dots locating each Graykey just started appearing mere moments before you walked in the door.”

The king’s alertness seemed to sharpen. “Did they? So I’m the only person who knows about your accomplishments?”

“Yes. I mean…” Everett paused. “You and my assistant. He ran to get a spot of ale to celebrate our success.”

“Hmm. I’d like to meet this assistant.” A stuttered moment of awkward silence followed before King Tomrick added a belated, “To congratulate him as well, of course.”

“Er, of course, Your Majesty. He’ll return shortly.”

“Excellent.” Feeling eyes on me, I jolted a little when cold fingers brushed the side of my arm before the king asked, “And the woman?”

“The woman?” Protective wariness entered Everett’s tone.

“The naked woman you have stretched out on this torture device,” the Lowden king clarified. “I’m sure you’ve noticed her. Is she the only Graykey test subject you have?”

“Uh, yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hmm. Which one is she?”

“Which…” Everett sounded confused. “Which what, Your Majesty?”

“Which Graykey,” King Tomrick ground out, beginning to sound irritated. “Her given name, if you please?”

“I…”

It struck me then, when Everett faltered for an answer, that he had no idea what my name was. He’d never asked me. And I doubt anyone had told him. He’d just never cared enough to find out. He’d gotten more intimate with my person than just about anyone ever had, became obsessed enough to decide he owned me and might keep me if I survived, and yet he’d never even bothered to learn my name.

“She’s a Graykey,” Everett finally answered. “What does her given name matter?”

“I suppose it doesn’t.” The king sounded cold and aloof. “I’m just the curious sort.”

“Oh. Well, maybe the map could tell us.” Everett shifted closer. “Hmm,” he added after a moment. “That’s strange.”

“What is?”

“It looks like there are two Graykeys here.”

“Really?” The king wandered closer. “That is strange.”

“Yes. One of them says Quilla Graykey.”

“Quilla, huh?” I felt that cool, calculating gaze on me again as he murmured a resigned, “Why am I not surprised?”

“And the other…” Everett leaned closer. I could practically hear him squint when he said, “Is Quall…Qualmer Graykey, I believe.”

Qualmer?

Oh no.

I sucked in a breath, and made a sound in the back of my throat.

But how was Qualmer here? Why would Qualmer be here?

Everett looked up. “Qualmer. That sounds familiar. Which one was he?”

“Which one was Qualmer?” the king repeated mildly. “Hmm, let’s see. As I recall, he’s the one who kills you.”

“He—what? Hey! What’re you—” He jerked suddenly to his feet, only to chop the question short with a gurgled grunt. Then his slain body slumped to the floor right next to the edge of my vision. I was able to move my neck just enough to look into my captor’s wide, unseeing eyes as he gaped up at me with a death stare, his neck sliced open with blood pooling out and spreading toward the edge of the map.

And just like that, Everett was dead. After days—weeks—of torturing me, he died so fast. And someone else had stolen my sweet revenge, killing him first.

I moaned, not upset he was gone, but kind of worried what this meant for me now.

Was I being rescued?

I had a strange feeling I was not. Because if Qualmer was disguising himself as King Tomrick—

The door to the room opened.

“Sir, I got us the finest—”

The sound of breaking clay filled the air as the jug crashed to the ground and shattered.

“Damn,” the king announced. “You dropped the ale. I was hoping for a refreshing drink after this.”

“I—who—” Afton sounded sufficiently confused. “What’s going on? Did you just kill Master