Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,163

We’d both be swinging from the end of a rope if he knew we were still looking for your mate regardless of his orders. So, no, we’re not going to just capture and interrogate the king’s top advisor for the information we need.”

“But—”

“Oh my God. You’re giving me a headache. If we’re going to find your true love, we have to be discreet.”

Air hissed from between my teeth. But then relief filled my lungs. “So you are going to help me find her, at least?”

Blinking at me as if I were insane, he sputtered, “Of course. Your true love was just taken. If I didn’t step in to assist, you’d no doubt tear down half this realm looking for her and probably get yourself killed in the process. And I already went through too many annoyances to keep you alive; I’m not going to just stand aside and watch you leap right back into mortal danger again.”

Anticipation and hope bloated in my chest. “Does this mean you already have a plan to get the information we need?”

He rolled his eyes. “How could I rightly call myself the next King of High Cliff if I didn’t?”

Thank God. “Then what’s the plan?”

“Well, I’m going to have to step back for the next leg of this journey. The king monitors what I do and where I go too closely. He believes I’m sending you back to the queen in Far Shore right now, as he commanded, so I’ll need to return home alone as if that’s exactly what I’ve done. Don’t worry, though, I’m going to pass you off to someone who can help you better than I could.”

“But—” I started, unable to put my confidence in anyone else. I was already risking a lot to trust Erick’s claim that he would help me save a Graykey woman. How could I believe someone new would be so enlightened and accepting of my mission?

Erick held up a hand, silencing me. “Besides,” he went on, lifting his voice. “I think you secretly like this scholar more than you do me, anyway.”

My eyes widened. “You mean Vander?” Also known as the scholarly prince of High Cliff.

I sighed in instant relief. I might have served under Erick’s youngest brother, Urban, in the army, but it was his middle brother, Olivander, that I’d always had the most in common with.

Olivander Bjorn was the caretaker of the only library in the kingdom—and maybe in all of the Outer Realms. Everything I’d learned about researching I’d learned from him.

Erick nodded once. “I’ve sent a coded raven message to him, and he’s agreed to meet us in Belle.”

“Belle!” I exploded incredulously. “But it’ll take us a week to get to Belle.”

“Or a day,” Erick corrected me. “As we’re in Ashley now.”

We were in Ashley? How long had I been unconscious? It had to have taken them days to get here. And what the hell were we doing so far from Tyler? I needed to get back to Tyler. Tyler was the last place I’d seen Quilla.

I instinctively didn’t want to stray far away from where I’d last seen her, though logically, the likelihood of her being kept in Tyler was small. My guess would be for the king to bring her to Elaina—the capital of High Cliff—for this ritual thing, so he could personally oversee it. And Belle was closer to Elaina than we were now. So, meeting there made more sense.

But still, it felt strangely wrong to me.

“We’ll have to meet him in person in order to explain everything,” Erick was saying, “because too many coded messages might alert Father to some kind of duplicitous behavior from us. We have to be smart about this.”

I nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Erick. Even if this doesn’t work...” I blew out a calming breath and clasped his arm. “Thank you for at least trying for me.”

Erick checked us into an inn just outside of Belle a day later.

I was a complete wreck. Sometimes, I’d allow myself to wonder about her.

Was she okay?

Being tortured?

Still even alive?

And sometimes I raged out of control, breaking something near me.

But letting myself think about different ways she could have suffered and died was when the panic would attack the strongest. Black spots would form in my vision, and my breathing would ratchet out of control. I’d let myself picture worst-case scenarios, where she was chained, unable to defend herself, and hurt in every way imaginable.

I would press my palm against the scab growing over my temple, willing