Page 145 of Mark of Love (Love Mark 3)

“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.

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