“Thurvishar’s not scheduled to have classes with the Spurned, but then he does make his own schedule.” I pondered the strange D’Lorus mage. “Still, even if he’s here, I don’t know he’d interfere. It’s not his pasture or his horses. But what of Gadrith?”

We had talked about Gadrith on many occasions, once Qown found out his real identity. We wanted nothing to do with him. There was a sort of sick humor to the fact Xivan kept herself alive in a very similar manner to Gadrith, and yet Xivan was beloved—at least among the Spurned. Maybe because Xivan wouldn’t murder everyone around her just because she felt peckish. I guess the fact she wasn’t a wizard—who presumably burned through far greater quantities of tenyé due to spellcasting—worked to her advantage.

“Gadrith hasn’t visited in weeks,” Qown said. “So if you’re going to do this…”

“Yes. Best to do it now.” I looked around his room, which still managed to feel monastic in the middle of a palace. I wasn’t ready, but maybe it was best this way. No chance to say goodbyes and thus betray my goals. No chance to accidentally let something slip.

Qown cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you’ll need to disrobe.” He handed me one of his robes for my modesty.

My mouth quirked. As if Qown hadn’t seen all of me at one time or another. I turned my back toward him and stripped down so he could examine the sigil and—hopefully—remove it.

“Give me a moment,” he said.

“Take all the time you need.”

However, it didn’t take very long at all. Then I heard him sigh.

“It didn’t work?” I looked over my shoulder.

“It didn’t work,” he agreed. “Whatever’s creating the mark, it’s not coming off just because I asked.”

“Are you sure cutting off the skin will be enough?”

“Of course I’m sure. I—” I heard him pause. “Oh sun, what if it isn’t?”

I half turned toward him. “We’ll find out. Hopefully it will be like you said and you won’t have to remove all the skin.”

“Right. Lie down over here. I’ll just, uh … okay, I’m going to dull the pain. It’s going to feel odd, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

“I’d say knock me unconscious, but it’s nighttime so you wouldn’t be able to wake me again.”

“Oh, good point.”

I felt his fingertips against the skin, and then I couldn’t feel his touch at all. It did indeed feel odd, a numbness around the edges of my back, but I couldn’t feel my back’s center.

“You’re going to feel tugging. You might also feel some wetness.”

“That won’t by chance be blood, will it?”

“It might be, yes. Now let me work.”