Page 63 of Revealing Fate

Imogen descended the dusty steps and stopped before a crumbling stone dais. A dark-haired woman whose back was to her stood upon the platform, hands busied with some task on the altar table. The woman wore a simple shift that looked in sore need of a thorough washing. A servant, perhaps?

At least the room she’d entered was furnished, if sparsely, and fragrant candles dotted the table tops, the heavy scent of incense masking the stagnant air.

The priest dipped his head in acknowledgement, and Imogen glanced at him questioningly. “The elder has been cleansed, Your Majesty,” he announced.

Her attention snapped back to the woman, who turned at the priest’s words. Imogen gawked, sputtering. “I…Queen Serebine?”

The Queen of Asteros ignored her and spoke to the priest instead. “Romulus,” she said with an authority that contrasted harshly with her dilapidated appearance. “We must locate another specimen. This one was ineffectual.”

The priest bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty. I shall begin the search.” Then he left.

Queen Serebine dipped her hands in a bronze basin, washing something dark from her fingers. She wiped them on a cloth before finally facing Imogen. The queen’s once lustrous curls draped over bony shoulders in a dull tangle. Her cheekbones had gained a sharpness that hadn’t been there when Imogen had last seen her, and the dirty shift hung on her pale frame like a second sallow skin. Her feet were bare and blackened. The only feature that held any remaining vibrance was the queen’s emerald eyes, which seemed to glow in the low light.

“Elder Imogen,” she said. “I trust you have come with a report of significance?”

Imogen bent at the waist. “Your Majesty. Please forgive the intrusion, I…” She paused, hesitating. “Are you well, my queen?”

The queen glanced down at herself. “I imagine my appearance is somewhat disconcerting. This temple was designed with purpose, Elder. Thousands of shurii from every reach of Ilistaar visit the grandeur that exists within its arched entrance, yet few ever see beyond the lofty cavern of ivory marble and painted glass.” Serebine peered at the ceiling as though looking through the dingy stone into the opulent chamber above. “That first level is like our Goddess’s mercy. Pristine. Unblemished. Perfect.”

Imogen straightened, shifting on her feet.

“But here? Beneath the surface? This is what we truly are, Elder. The shurii race. Soiled. Rotting.” The queen lifted the hem of her ragged shift. Bitterness crept into her tone. “Unworthy. It is a reminder of the stain of the people. She gifted us a means to undo what the worst of us did. A way to ameliorate our sinful betrayal.”

“The Prima,” Imogen said.

Serebine’s glittering gaze fixed on her. Her pallid face was gaunt and hollowed. She was still beautiful, but haunted. “Yes. And we have lost her. Penance is necessary to rectify this wrong.”

Trepidation unfurled in Imogen’s belly like a poisonous flower. “There is still hope, Your Majesty. The undying flame still burns. The Prima is alive.”

The queen’s eyes grew distant. “Lost, Elder. Hope is an illusion. We must beg the divine for mercy. And our Goddess’s mercy is not without demand.”

“The king’s men will find her,” Imogen ventured tentatively. “It is only a matter of time.”

Serebine sneered, once again refocusing. “The king.” She made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “The king sent his three most skilled hunters beyond the city walls. Only one returned, barely. And she returned empty-handed.”

Imogen’s eyes widened in shock.

“My husband is exhausting his resources to no avail. He believes he can quell a rebellion with blades and brawn. Thinks he will scatter the roaches by stomping the armored boots of a thousand men.” Her pert nose wrinkled with revulsion at the thought before smoothing once more. The resolute expression she donned resembled that of her daughter so thoroughly that Imogen stared. “I must take matters into my own hands. My priests understand. There is only one way to move forward from this calamity. One way that we can hope to seek forgiveness for this abject failure.”

“Your Majesty?”

The queen turned back to her table, where the bronze basin sat. She dipped her hands into the liquid and lifted something from its reservoir. “Proper repentance,” she said, as she pivoted once more toward Imogen. “And sacrifice. One befitting a Goddess. One worthy of summoning her in the flesh.”

Imogen knew then why the incense burned so intensely. It wasn’t masking the stale air; it masked another scent entirely. For gripped in Queen Serebine’s hands was a shurii heart, and the liquid dripping onto the dirty stone floor was blood.

Imogen fled the chamber. She hadn’t even relayed what she’d intended. Didn’t have the courage to stay and ask the queen for additional privileges for Karrick. She doubted it would have mattered. Queen Serebine’s mind was compromised. No wonder the king had hidden her away beneath the temple. Felíne’s disappearance had clearly unhinged her.

She was trying to summon a god by sacrificing shurii.

Imogen’s stomach roiled. She couldn’t get out of the temple’s innards quickly enough.

Only once the light of the upper level reached her did Imogen’s breath come a little easier. She hurried through the door, ignoring the black guards at its entrance, and dashed into the brilliant atrium. Prestyn Gore snapped to attention upon seeing her emerge and rushed to match her pace. Together, they left the temple, drawing curious eyes.

Imogen didn’t slow until she’d made it down the expansive entry steps and put a full two blocks between them and the temple doors.

“Elder,” Lieutenant Gore called after her. “Elder Imogen!”

Imogen stopped abruptly and bent forward, a hand over her middle.