Page 87 of Bedeviled

Apprehension flashes in the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt you”—his eyes move between me and the sorcerer—“but I felt it was urgent.”

“I see,” Memnon says carefully. Across our bond, however, I can tell that Memnon does not, in fact, see.

As if to emphasize this, a little of his magic leaks out, the ribbon of it wrapping possessively around one of my legs.

The closer the man gets to us, the more I notice the trepidation he wears like a cloak.

He extends a hand. “Kincaide Cole.”

Memnon doesn’t take it. “I know who you are.”

Kincaide drops his hand. “You asked to see me.”

“I did,” Memnon agrees.

Cole cuts to the chase. “I know why you’ve asked me to come. I know I’m in that book.”

That book?

Luca Fortuna kept a ledger of names, Memnon says to me.

My mind spins at the revelation.

To Kincaide, my husband says, “Then you’ve heard about what I’ve done to others on that list?”

Maybe it’s the mention of ledgers that makes me think of Olga, maybe it’s Memnon’s ominous words about what he’s done to others that makes me think about what my coven sister showed me in her book. Regardless, this special meeting suddenly feels like it’s veering very close to the murdering people side of the spectrum.

Kincaide nods. “I didn’t have to come here. I could’ve run. There are a thousand different places in the world I could hide to avoid encountering you, but I chose to come.”

Memnon scrutinizes him. “And you thought your bravery would be rewarded.”

Kincaide Cole hesitates. “I don’t want to die.” His voice breaks over that last word.

I can sense Memnon’s disgust. My husband is a man who, though king, still rode into battle alongside his warriors. He’s faced down death many, many times.

“So not brave after all,” Memnon says, “but you thought you might ingratiate yourself to me by doing as commanded.”

“There are others who would pit themselves against you. Several are making plans to do so even now.”

I go still.

Memnon merely says, “Are they?”

Cole jumps at what he perceives as my soulmate’s interest. “I could tell you about them.”

The sorcerer raises his brows. “A man who would sell out his own friends⁠—”

“They’re not my friends, and I don’t wish to be associated with them in any manner.”

Memnon nods, assessing Kincaide. “And for all this benevolence you offer, you want…your life?”

Kincaide nods. “I don’t want to die. I have a family.”

Memnon cocks his head. “I imagine there are a lot of young supernaturals the Fortunas captured who didn’t want to die either. But they were killed anyway so my predecessor might turn a profit.” After a pause Memnon adds, “And you looked the other way.”

“I didn’t know about any of that!” A burst of anger laces his panic.

Memnon raises his eyebrows, his gaze flicking over the man’s attire. “Mr. Cole, you don’t strike me as the sort of man who is ignorant. You seem rather accomplished, someone who got where they are today through ruthless ambition.”