Page 22 of Revealing Fate

“You should not be here,” he rasped.

Imogen swallowed the lump in her throat. “No. But neither should you.”

Karrick’s brow furrowed, his gaze going distant. “My fate is sealed.” He focused on her again, seeming to notice her attire, her elder vestments. “But not yours, it seems.”

“No. Much has…changed.”

“That is good,” he said, sounding weary. “An elder?”

Imogen dipped her chin in a nod.

Karrick lowered himself to the stone floor, shoving the chains out of his way. His brow flickered when the shackles chafed against his ruined ankles, the only sign of what must have been agony.

Imogen’s skirt pooled around her as she sank to the ground. She scooted as close to the bars as possible.

Karrick looked thinner than she remembered. He was still a large man, his frame formidable, but his muscles had lost their bulk—they seemed stretched too tightly over his bones rather than strong and supple. The brown skin that had once glowed beneath her hands was now pallid and ashen, leeched of warmth. Thick black hair matted the expanse of his scalp. His beard grew unkempt. The grooves beneath his eyes were darker, haunting once-attractive features. She wondered when Karrick had last been permitted a bath. Weeks, judging by the stink of grime and squalor that clung to him. Imogen’s emotions surged at the neglect.

“Bring that torch a bit closer, could you?”

Imogen did as he asked and resettled herself. Karrick rubbed his palms together, reaching as close to the flame as his restraints would allow.

“You must be freezing,” she said, noting the expanse of exposed skin.

Karrick’s lips twisted in a sneer. “Vulgren’s personal gift to me. I’m warmer in my second form. What I lack in clothing I make up for with a thick pelt.” He glanced down at his feet. “But the irons bite into my flesh when I shift. So, I either freeze in first, or bleed in second.”

Fury, hot and raw, blasted her. “I’m going to kill him.”

Karrick searched the darkness beyond her before his keen attention returned to her face. “Careful, Gen. This stone echoes and hides too many listening ears.” Once satisfied they were truly alone, he allowed a small smile. “As much as I’d relish watching your words come to fruition, I don’t want to talk about him.” Dark eyes studied her. “You look well.”

Imogen pressed closer but felt no joy at the compliment. She wished she could return it.

“I did not expect to see you again,” Karrick said, concern pinching his brow. “I had no warning that you were leaving. You just…never returned.”

Imogen couldn’t hold his gaze. She swallowed.

“It’s good they made you an elder,” he continued, tone even. “You were too bright for this gray place.”

She wanted to tell him. About the baby she lost. That they lost. It was on the tip of her tongue. He was the father. He deserved to know. But she couldn’t do it. Imogen couldn’t make her mouth form the words scalding her throat.

“Yes,” she said instead. “I am the Prima’s personal instructor.”

He didn’t reply. Only watched her.

“I know,” she whispered when the silence became too heavy. “Who you are. He told me.”

An icy wariness entered Karrick’s eyes. “What did he tell you?”

Imogen hugged herself. The torchlight wavered. “You’re the Primordial Male.”

Karrick’s face emptied of emotion. He could have been carved from the same stone in the chamber that surrounded them.

A shaky breath filled Imogen’s lungs, and she forced herself to study his face. It hurt—his unfeeling mask. But the confirmation was infinitely worse. “So, it’s true.”

The thrum of Karrick’s pulse in the column of his neck was the only sign that he shared even a fraction of her discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “As I said, my fate is sealed. It was sealed a long time ago.”

Pain flared somewhere behind her ribs. “I am personally training the female destined to carry your child. Teaching her how to do what we…” Her sentence trailed off, strangled.