Page 47 of Revealing Fate

Vulgren peered toward the door before resettling on her, pale blue eyes unblinking. “My dearest elder, the Primordial Male is ferocious indeed. It is imperative that we keep him secured lest his instincts drive him to escape and fornicate ungoverned.”

Imogen couldn’t conceal the curl of disgust that lifted her lip. She leaned forward, enunciating each word with care. “That male is sacred, is he not?”

She’d caught him off guard. “Of course.”

“Then he should be treated as such. The Goddess’s curse cannot be broken without him.” Imogen lifted her chin. “Your treatment of him despoils the very purpose he was meant to fulfill. I have trained the Prima for her presentation to a male worthy of their fated task, not one chained and starving in a dungeon cell. The Primordial Male’s current state is an affront.”

Vulgren’s head bobbed, the smooth skin of his forehead glistening. “Elder Imogen, we humble servants have displeased you.”

No. Just you, Vulgren. “A displeasure I am obligated to report to my queen.”

That’s right, Imogen thought. You’re not the only one who reports to Serebine. Go ahead and writhe, ugly worm.

Vulgren considered her. “What would you have us do, Elder?”

“You maintain a secure Stronghold, Mender Vulgren,” she said, insides twisting at the compliment. “There is ample space. Surely you can have the Prima’s intended relocated to more comfortable accommodations.”

Vulgren made to reply, but Imogen forged on. “Ones which are equally secure,” she insisted. “And he should be provided sufficient provisions. I am certain the queen would disapprove of her daughter being presented to a malnourished male.” Her stomach clenched, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “What if…your mistreatment impairs his holy seed?”

Vulgren looked appropriately appalled by the suggestion. “He has been offered adequate sustenance! The male refuses to eat.”

Imogen sneered. “Would you not lose your appetite if forced to sit shackled in the cold dark, knowing you were divinely chosen? It is unconscionable, Mender.”

Vulgren’s hands fluttered to his chest. “You humble me, Elder. I⁠—”

“I will oversee his relocation, Mender Vulgren,” Imogen said, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say and reopening the door. “Select an appropriately defensible chamber, have it outfitted as needed, and I will ensure he is settled with the assistance of the available guard.” She glanced across the threshold at Lieutenant Gore, who straightened slightly at her attention.

“Elder Imogen, this is quite dangerous,” Vulgren insisted. “If you were to be harmed⁠—”

Imogen turned hard eyes onto the greasy old man. “I am an Elder of Doceo, Mender Vulgren, and the Prima’s personal instructor. Do not forget that I have succeeded where all others have failed. That male will not harm me. In fact, I am very likely the only shurii here capable of ensuring his compliance.”

Vulgren hesitated. Had she pushed him too far? Overestimated her importance?

“The decision is yours, Mender,” she said, somehow managing grave nonchalance. “Whatever you decide, I am sure Queen Serebine will understand your rationale upon receiving my report.”

Her words settled something in Vulgren. Imogen watched as a tentative light flickered in his eerie, unblinking eyes. He regarded her. “Elder, you impress me. We are ever humble students of the greater divine. It shall be as you request.”

Karrick’s eyes daggered through Imogen’s back as she walked with the guarded escort out of the dark and away from that godforsaken cell of his. She didn’t dare turn to look at him. Couldn’t risk even the flicker of concern passing over her features. It took everything inside her to maintain the air of indifference that she bolted around her countenance like a protective shell.

Vulgren marched beside her, pale gaze darting back every few steps, likely fearing Karrick’s attack and escape in equal measure.

But Karrick made no move to do either. He simply stalked in silence, chains clanking about his wrists and throat, their tethers held by armed guards. She’d had the ones securing his ankles removed.

The room Vulgren had prepared for Karrick was only one level above the dungeon he’d just vacated. Imogen had wanted chambers on the upper level, but Vulgren ardently refused, claiming it was too easily accessible. She’d agreed, despite herself, not wanting to cause unwanted suspicion regarding her intentions.

They strode down a narrow hallway and approached two guards posted before a single door. A hastily installed iron gate blocked the entrance. Thick bars had been hammered into the surrounding stone, secured from ceiling to floor. How Vulgren managed to commission the construction of the gate on such short notice baffled Imogen. She was both irritated and impressed by the obvious resources at his disposal.

Vulgren motioned the guards to unlock the entry gate, and they all stepped inside. The exit was bolted behind them, and Karrick’s shackles were secured to a thick metal ring in the wall. Imogen looked questioningly at Vulgren, who explained, “To allow us time to inspect the rooms, Elder.”

She stepped ahead of Vulgren into Karrick’s new chamber. The room was dim and somewhat cramped, but it offered more space than the cell below and was furnished. A thick coverlet had been folded across the mattress. Imogen swallowed. At least he’d be warm.

Vulgren watched Imogen as she made a show of inspecting the chamber. The single armoire was stocked with several changes of clean clothes, a deep, albeit narrow tub occupied the far wall, and a simple desk sat opposite.

“Very well, Mender Vulgren,” she said. “You may show him in.”

“We should depart, Elder. I will have the guards escort him once we are safely away.”

Imogen allowed her voice to go cold. “I have assured Her Majesty, the Queen, that I would oversee this transition to her satisfaction, Mender Vulgren. You are here out of respect to your position, but do not mistake that respect for necessity. I operate under the authority of our sovereign. I do not require your presence.”