Page 106 of Revealing Fate

“I don’t know if he’ll be ready,” she heard herself say. “I haven’t told him.”

Cinah stared at her. He cut concerned eyes to Mender Alcuin. A withered hand with strong fingers touched her wrist. Imogen looked up to meet the elderly mender’s sage gaze.

“He must be ready, Elder,” he insisted. “You must tell him today.”

She nodded numbly. Imogen hadn’t been to visit Karrick since telling him about their daughter. That was days ago. She’d been spending her time visiting the other Fates, except, of course, for Railah. The less time she spent in the too-eager young woman’s company, the better.

“I am expecting a messenger from Meress,” Cinah said to Mender Alcuin. “I’ll have confirmation of our next steps and, with a bit of luck, the whereabouts of our Prima.”

Just how easy was it for these men to smuggle information—and people—in and out of the city? “Isn’t that an additional risk?” Imogen questioned. An unnecessary one? They already knew Felíne was being taken to Meress.

Cinah leveled with her. “Let me worry about the risk, Elder.”

Imogen bristled, but Alcuin’s patient voice averted her retort. “Cinah is quite careful,” he assured, “and he is no novice to elusive maneuvering. It would be better to have assurance of Felíne’s location. The Autumn Reaping is fast approaching. We haven’t the time to search aimlessly for her once we get the Primordial Male out.”

The Reaping. Felíne’s servicing. The gods forsaken curse.

The reminder of Karrick’s responsibilities settled over her like donning a fur cloak during the height of summer. Suffocating.

Cinah and Mender Alcuin continued their discussion while Imogen reeled in her composure. To imagine how different her life might have been if she’d never joined the Fates. If her father had never died. If her mother had never required the only sacrifice Imogen could think to give. She’d probably be working alongside Sashara at Madame’s.

Contemplating what might have been was like attempting to unspeak a harsh word. You couldn’t take it back. You could only choose the next articulation.

Though thinking of the Fates…

“Mender,” she began. “Three of the Fated Mothers are approaching their fertile cycles.” The notion caused a swell of nausea to roll through her. “Is there anything they can do to prevent it?”

Alcuin patted her hand. He and Cinah knew the implication. Imogen had told them Karrick was the only male left in the Stronghold. The only one Vulgren intended to use.

“Prevent? No,” Mender Alcuin said, and Imogen’s chest tightened. “But delay? That we can do.”

The mender wrote instructions for her on a scrap of parchment, which she tucked into the folds of her vestments. The ingredients were simple things she could find in Asteros’s markets and apothecaries without rousing suspicion.

“Combine the herbs in the ratios I wrote for you,” he advised. “The redicon root must be pressed to extract its pulp. Use the flat of a blade, like so.” Mender Alcuin demonstrated the motion with practiced hands. “It is sticky. It will help bind the herbs. Give each woman one pellet to swallow.”

Imogen was no healer, but she did her best to make mental notes. “Can they not drink the mixture in a tea?” All the women at Madame’s drank a tea to prevent their menses from impeding their nightly activities. She assumed a preventative for fertility would be similar. It would certainly simplify Imogen’s administration of the herbs.

Mender Alcuin shook his head, white hair drifting in a fuzzy nimbus. “This method is more reliable. Teas take time to perfect and must be dosed specifically to ensure their efficacy. The pellet will safely postpone a fertile cycle for at least a month with minor side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?” Imogen asked.

“Mild nausea, stomach cramping, loose bowels, and fatigue are most common. They tend to resolve in a few days.”

Imogen nodded. A small price to pay. One that several of the women would willingly accept to delay their servicing. A particularly overzealous individual, however…

She cringed inwardly. Railah was too eager to ‘serve her Goddess and kingdom’. She would never consent to consuming the pellet. Imogen had hoped to slip a vial of infertility tonic into the young woman’s tea and have her drink it unwittingly. No matter. She’d devise another way.

“Thank you,” she said, and Mender Alcuin gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Cinah, who’d remained quietly attentive during the mender’s instructions, stepped forward. “Tell him, Imogen,” he urged. “Today, if you can. This may be our only opportunity to get you both out of the city. We cannot waste it.”

“I understand,” she assured them. “I won’t delay.”

Imogen’s feet followed the return path to the Stronghold from muscle memory. Her mind was elsewhere. On Karrick. On Felíne. On the Fates. On her mother. Alcuin had assured her that he’d find a way to ensure Miriam’s safety before smuggling them out of Asteros. How, he hadn’t divulged, but Imogen had no choice other than to place her trust once again in the old mender’s hands. He’d proven true to his word thus far.

Lieutenant Gore followed along silently. He seemed to sense her preoccupation and was content to let her sort through the tangle of thoughts without interrupting.

The closer they got to the Stronghold’s entrance, however, the more convoluted Imogen’s contemplations became. The Prima’s presentation to the Primordial Male was meant to be the salvation of the shurii, but to Imogen it was a beacon of doom.