Page 108 of Revealing Fate

“Oh? Like you?”

She squinted at him. Did he have any idea? No. He thought the extent of her recklessness was petitioning Vulgren for better accommodations. Well, Karrick was in for one hell of a surprise.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” she told him.

Karrick squared his shoulders, giving her his undivided attention. Despite his posture, Imogen spied a flicker of apprehension pass over his features. She felt immediately guilty. The last time she’d visited, she’d dropped a virtual powder keg into his lap, lit the fuse, and then walked away. How long had it taken her to manage the grief associated with the loss of their daughter? Years?

She’d given Karrick mere days.

“About the last time I was here,” she blurted, struggling for words but needing to say them, “about what I told you…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Karrick. I wanted you to know. You deserved to know, and I should have told you sooner, and⁠—”

Karrick sat beside her and took her hand, silencing her fumbling. “I’m glad you told me,” he said softly. “I’m still processing everything.” His hand flexed, squeezing hers tightly before he loosened his grip. “I’ve got a lot of anger, Gen. So much fucking anger in me.” He breathed deeply. “I don’t want my knowledge of our daughter to be tainted by it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. What else could she say?

Karrick squeezed her hand again, gentler. “What is it you came to discuss?”

Imogen shifted on the bed, turning to face him. The warm reddish undertone to his brown skin was back, dissipating the ashen cast to his complexion. The strong angles of his jaw were visible after having been shaved, the initial razor bumps finally calmed. His hair had begun to regrow; it had been oiled and sectioned into neat twists. He no longer looked so gaunt. Regular meals and time spent out of that godsforsaken dungeon had done him good.

Imagine what freedom would do.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Imogen said without preamble.

Karrick studied her. When he realized her sincerity, he dropped her hand. “You’re serious.”

“As the grave.”

Karrick frowned. Then he stood. Paced. “What have you gotten yourself involved in, Gen?” He faced her. “You want to talk about exercising caution? Do you have any idea the risk⁠—”

“Oh, stop it, Karrick,” Imogen said, cutting him off. “I don’t need a lecture on risky behavior; I was raised in this city. Why do you think I want you to be careful?”

He glared at her.

“Will you at least listen to me?”

He did. Imogen told him about Mender Alcuin and Cinah Creed. Told him about their contact in the guard. The assurances they hoped to provide. The timeline for their escape. Imogen was an excellent judge of character. She felt she could trust them.

There was always a risk. But weren’t some things worth it? Wasn’t this?

“And your mother?”

Imogen’s chest tightened at Karrick’s concern. “Mender Alcuin has planned for her safety once we’re gone.”

“You should go, Gen,” Karrick said. He turned to face the desk, staring at something scrawled on a piece of parchment.

Why was he being so stubborn? “I’m not leaving without you, Karrick.”

“Then you are wasting an opportunity.”

“Karrick,” she urged, “you could have a life. Freedom. Away from this awful place. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I want that,” he said, voice strained. He finally tore his eyes from the paper. “I want it more than anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

Karrick’s face was painted in anguish. “I made a promise, Gen. I have a responsibility.”

Imogen’s brain stalled. Of course. She wasn’t pleading with Karrick Kaine. The father of her child. The man she loved. She was appealing to the Primordial Male. And he had a duty to… “The Prima.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue.