Page 40 of Revealing Fate

I am bound by my promise to another. The sound of rattling chains echoed in her memory. Bound.

Oh, Karrick.

She shouldn’t have run. She should have stayed in the dark with him, welcomed the pitiful warmth of that flickering flame that did little to banish the chill in his cell. But she’d panicked. Imogen had been too overwhelmed with her own selfish emotion to think beyond her pain. The pain of seeing the male she loved chained in the shadows. The pain of knowing the future they once wanted was exactly what he’d said: a fantasy.

Her thoughts drifted to Felíne, and worry carved at her. She sat for what must have been more than five minutes, letting her concern settle. If only she had some way to right all of these wrongs. Every consideration caused her pain. Even if Felíne were found, Imogen would be forced to deliver her to Karrick. The thought sent a fresh wave of anguish washing through her. Perhaps this was the best she could hope for. Perhaps she was destined to live a life pervaded by misery.

She’d been so consumed with her own agonizing solitude that she hadn’t even accomplished what she’d meant to. She’d wanted to show Karrick he wasn’t alone. Instead, she’d left him. He told her she should have run, and without even meaning to, that’s precisely what she’d done.

The sound of fabric sliding across wood startled Imogen out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and stiffened.

A slightly hunched, hooded figure sat across from her. Her gaze shot to the bar where Lieutenant Gore should have been watching. He was nowhere to be found. Imogen flattened a palm on the tabletop, ready to launch out of the booth.

“The guard is unharmed, Elder Imogen,” a smoothly cultured voice said. “Merely taking a brief, contrived respite.”

Imogen froze halfway out of her seat. She recognized that voice. “Mender?”

Mender Alcuin did not lower his hood but angled so that its interior caught the flicker of dim light. His weathered face appeared somewhat strained, but kind concern twinkled in his blue eyes as he studied her. “Hello, my dear.”

Imogen sank onto the bench. “But, Mender, how…”

“I have many eyes in this city, Elder,” he explained. “Though we do not have time for lengthy explanations. Your assiduous guardian will not sleep for long, I am afraid, and my presence here must not be discovered.”

Imogen leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You said you were leaving. The monarchs believe you have gone.” She believed he had gone. He was supposed to have been traveling to meet with a colleague, hoping to secure treatment for her mother’s worsening condition. Queen Serebine had been furious that he’d gotten out of the city before King Domitan’s lockdown had gone into effect after Felíne’s disappearance.

He nodded sagely. “And I would have that belief endure. For now.”

“My mother⁠—”

Mender Alcuin reached out a withered hand and gripped hers with surprising strength. “She is mending, Imogen. Still weak, but her condition is improving. I did not mislead you. I had every intention of seeking my colleague, but alas, unexpected events have claimed my attention. Rest assured, I sent a trusted, quite capable friend in my stead. I have every intention of curing Miriam’s ailment.”

Imogen released a shuddering breath.

“Elder, I must ask, do you know what has happened to our Felíne?”

Gen’s throat worked on a swallow. “I do not.” She relayed her conversation with the king and queen. How she’d returned to the royal villa to find the Prima had gone. How the king’s hunters searched tirelessly for her. Imogen had received no news as to her whereabouts.

Mender Alcuin’s expression grew grave, thoughtful. “She must be found,” he said. “I must make additional inquiries. Regardless of risk.”

Imogen hesitated, wondering how much she should reveal to the old mender. Felíne had trusted him. She’d said as much. This man was believed to be gone, yet he sought information hidden from the crown’s persistent gaze. Clearly, he didn’t trust the King and Queen of Asteros.

Imogen told him about Madame’s. She explained Felíne’s request to learn about life beyond the villa walls. She told him about the tunnels under the city, their unorthodox lessons, and her missing Fate’s cloak. Every detail she could recall that might be pertinent, she shared without reservation, the information spilling out of her in a rush.

Mender Alcuin absorbed every word with unwavering focus. When Imogen was finished, he reclined. “My Felíne,” he said with a small, sad smile. “Ever the eager pupil. She carries a terrible burden. An impossible burden.” He shook his head. “Thank you, Imogen. You may not be able to inquire after her, but this provides me with some direction.”

Mender Alcuin readjusted his hood, once again concealing his features, and stood.

Imogen hesitated again, wondering whether or not she should reveal Karrick’s identity as the Primordial Male. She hesitated too long.

Mender Alcuin held a hand out to her, inviting her to stand. “Lieutenant Gore will wake shortly. He is there, at that far table, and will not remember dozing off. Go back to the Stronghold, Elder. If you can get away again in the next week, I will find you and relay any updates I obtain. Take care of yourself, dear.”

With that, the old mender wove deftly between the tables and disappeared out a rear exit.

Imogen sidled up to the table where Prestyn Gore slept, cheek pressed to the wood, a trickle of drool gathering in the corner of his open mouth. She eased into the seat opposite him.

He woke within moments, blinking confusedly, and dragged a hand across his mouth.

Imogen smiled softly at him. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” she said. “You only just fell asleep. I’m sure your shifts are long and don’t allow much reprieve.”