Page 118 of Revealing Fate

The stirring of the unconscious Fate next to her reclaimed Imogen’s thoughts.

Railah’s brow pinched, and her pouting mouth turned down at the corners. Eyelids rimmed by long, honey lashes fluttered open. Karrick straightened from his crouch. He and Imogen shared a look of acknowledgment.

With some effort, Railah pushed herself up into a sitting position. The cloak slipped down to pool around her waist. The Fate blinked, wiped her mouth, and glanced between Imogen and Karrick. “What…” She swallowed. Her gaze traveled down the length of her exposed body. “Did I perform to the Goddess’s satisfaction?”

Imogen stifled a grunt of annoyance and reached over to jerk the cloak up over Railah’s chest. “Unfortunately, the Goddess declined to bless this coupling.”

The first real emotion Imogen had ever seen passed over Railah’s visage. Despair. “I have been found unworthy? But how? Why?”

Divine mercy, this was painful. Imogen schooled her features. “Not unworthy. These things take…time.”

Railah’s lip trembled. “But we are so close to the Autumn Reaping. To the Prima’s holy presentation.” Her voice cracked. “Mender Vulgren will be so disappointed. I have failed.”

“No,” Imogen reassured her. “I will speak with him. You did nothing wrong.”

“What do I do? How can I fix this?”

“Rest,” Imogen said firmly.

“Pray,” Karrick suggested darkly.

Imogen glared at him. He’d shifted back to first form and stood on the fringe of shadows, wearing his midnight cloak like a reaper might wear its soul-stealing shroud.

Railah scrambled to her feet and prostrated herself before Karrick, her own cloak forgotten. “Yes, Lord. I will spend every moment I am away from you in prayer. Forgive my inadequacy. I will not fail you again.”

Lord? Oh, for the love of gods…Imogen grabbed the cloak and dropped it over the curve of Railah’s back, ignoring Karrick’s bemused expression. “Get up, Railah. One of the maids will escort you to your chambers.”

Railah stood, and the cloak slipped once more off her naked body. Karrick averted his gaze.

“Fated Mother,” Imogen forced through clenched teeth. “The time for exposing one’s fleshly form has passed. Cover yourself.”

The young woman had the wherewithal to obey. She swept her Fate’s cloak over her shoulders, concealed her face beneath its deep hood, and fled to wait by the exit.

“Where’d they find that one?” Karrick grumbled.

Imogen shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to consider how fucked up their city was. How indoctrinated their people had become. How, based on what Karrick had revealed to her, Imogen wasn’t exempt. They didn’t have time to dive into the particulars of their collective societal misguiding. She and Karrick would be having words.

But not now. Not when Vulgren was expected back any minute, and Imogen had to compose herself enough to provide a believable report.

“Later,” was all she said.

Karrick only nodded and placed the key to his chains in her hand.

Chapter 43

UNDER THE LEMON TREE

IMOGEN DIDN’T SEE KARRICK AGAIN for days. Despite the things she wanted to ask him, the information and company she craved, she was too distracted by Railah’s fertile cycle—and whether or not their attempt to disrupt it had been successful—to tear her focus from the young Fate.

Vulgren had been surprisingly amiable upon learning of Railah’s “unsuccessful encounter” with Karrick. In fact, he seemed positively thrilled that Railah managed to leave the chamber unmarred and attributed all credit to Imogen’s presence, insinuating she possessed some special ability to tame the monstrous Primordial Male. Imogen thought Vulgren had witnessed so many horrors—the results of which were on account of the violence he perpetuated by his fucking projects—that he’d simply come to expect the worst.

Imogen wasn’t worried about Railah’s physical safety. If that capsule didn’t work, Vulgren would insist on forcing another servicing with Karrick within the next several days. Even if Vulgren didn’t personally oversee the rendezvous, Karrick couldn’t keep knocking Railah unconscious. There would be questions the likes of which neither of them could answer. Neither could they appeal to Railah’s conscience. Imogen trusted her about as much as she trusted Vulgren.

She’d visited the Fate’s room several hours after leaving the ceremonial chamber, but Railah had asked to be left alone. The maidservant assigned to Railah for the evening informed Imogen that the young Fated Mother was so distraught over her recent failure that she insisted on reciting benedictions through the night. Imogen decided not to force it.

Imogen gave her until the following afternoon before she tried again. Railah again attempted to deny her, but Imogen insisted. She found the Fate bent over a basin, emptying her stomach contents with agonizing force. Vulgren had been notified, performed a quick assessment, and declared Railah had, quite literally, worried herself sick. Imogen excused herself to her own chambers, even more concerned that Railah had somehow managed to expel Alcuin’s infertility herbs.

Another two days of Railah’s mysterious ailments passed before Vulgren summoned the Fate for one of his dreaded inspections. Imogen declined to attend, instead waiting outside the white-washed exam room like an anxious nursemaid. When Vulgren called for her, it was all Imogen could do to keep from fidgeting while he elaborated on his findings. Luckily, he took her apprehension as concern for Railah.