Page 39 of Revealing Fate

Kal braced his hand on the gray’s saddle. The poor beast was being put through its paces today. “To the Watch’s southern depot. Where else?”

An uncustomary scowl distorted Saul’s normally placid features. “You said you wouldn’t interfere.”

Kal looked at the man over his shoulder. Gods, he was fucking tired. “I said I knew the laws. Not that I’d abide them.”

Saul dragged a hand down his face. “Damnit, Kal. Don’t make us arrest you. Please.”

Kal swung into the saddle. “I need to see her, Saul. We don’t even know if the woman they’ve got is my—” Kitty. The wrong woman. “—if it’s her.”

Saul sighed. “Then we’ll go and see her. Rask, too. If it is the woman you escorted, he’ll be able to verify whether or not this Kitty is who she claimed to be.” Saul turned, reaching for his own mount, then paused, downturned eyes serious. “Even if she is who she said, the Conclave will perform an inquiry. You will allow it, Kal, and all it entails.”

Kal’s nostrils flared, and his gaze locked with Saul’s, but movement to the right snared his attention before he could snap in reply. A familiar black wolf padded forward into the clearing, panting heavily. Yellow eyes found Kal, and the creature yipped before turning and darting off in the direction from which he’d come.

South.

Kal didn’t answer Saul as he swung the gray, didn’t wait as he rode off into the forest, following the trail toward the Watch’s southern post.

Chapter 16

FIVE MINUTES

IMOGEN PUSHED THROUGH THE DOOR of the Crowned Doe and let the night’s quiet conversation wash over her. She’d had a missive delivered to Vulgren informing him she was leaving the Stronghold for the evening. Imogen didn’t give him the chance to reply. She wasn’t asking permission. She was a damned elder, not a Fate, not a prisoner. And she needed some air.

Imogen suffered no illusions. She knew she wouldn’t be permitted to leave permanently, nor would she be allowed to go alone. The armed guard followed behind her, shadowing her every move as she stepped into the tavern and chose a seat at a secluded table against the far wall.

She’d wanted to check in on her mother but couldn’t bring herself to enter Mender Alcuin’s clinic, Light House. What if her presence ignited the queen’s ire? She didn’t know if Vulgren was aware of her agreement with Queen Serebine, but if not, she wouldn’t risk advertising it. Imogen had gotten as far as the front entryway lit with hopeful lanterns, before she retreated into the darkened Asteros streets and headed for the tavern.

One of the barmaids greeted her. Imogen asked for an ale and a meal and sank into the wooden booth. She glanced sidelong at the guard standing stiffly beside her table.

“Can I get five minutes without your hovering?”

“No, Elder Imogen.”

She sighed. “Look at me.”

Tentatively, he did. He was young. Barely even a shadow of facial hair peppered a jawline recently chiseled by manhood’s arrival. She’d specifically asked for him. He was the only guard who’d offered her the hint of a greeting, a flicker of kindness in that deplorable stone prison. Gen had seen the way he stole glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She was a wretch for it, but she’d use whatever female persuasion she possessed if it granted her even a moment of freedom from her enemies’ ceaseless scrutiny.

“What is your name, sir?”

His light brown eyes widened infinitesimally before he straightened. “Second Lieutenant Prestyn Gore, Elder.”

Second Lieutenant. Not an entry-level soldier, but only just advanced in rank. “Prestyn,” Imogen dared. His shocked attention flicked back to her. “Please. Look around. You are the only guard here. The tavern is emptying.”

He scanned the room.

“I am only asking for a moment of peace. I promise I have no ill intentions.”

Lieutenant Gore hesitated.

“Five minutes,” Imogen pleaded. “And then I will return to the Stronghold with you.”

“Five minutes,” he echoed. “No more.”

She gifted him a weak smile and nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Prestyn Gore strode grimly to the bar across the room and sat, angling himself with obvious intent so that Imogen remained well within his field of view.

Imogen leaned her head against the booth’s backing and closed her eyes. The sounds of the tavern and the few remaining patrons’ quiet conversations lulled her, though there was no true relaxation to be had. Not within the scope of her current circumstances.