Chapter 7
BOUND
THE LOWEST LEVEL OF THE Stronghold was so cold, Imogen was surprised her fingers hadn’t frosted over. She descended the final step toward the viewing room where Vulgren had showcased his prize on that first night, and the chill that crept into her bones had little to do with the temperature.
Securing a set of keys had been easier than expected. The guards within the Stronghold weren’t anticipating nefarious motives from an esteemed elder.
A single guard lounged inside the viewing room. He stood upon seeing her.
“I’m here to speak with the male,” she said, eyes flicking toward the darkness beyond the glass pane.
The guard’s brow pinched with hesitation. “Mender Vulgren did not inform—”
“Queen Serebine has tasked me with ensuring the success of the Fated Mothers,” Imogen said, infusing the steel of authority into her voice. “The male beyond those bars is essential to that success. Shall I inform Her Majesty that you are hindering my efforts and, by extension, the Prima’s?”
The guard’s eyes widened, his face blanching. “Forgive me, Elder. I’ll show you to him.”
Imogen followed the guard’s hasty steps down the hall, into the darkness.
He fumbled, then the yellow glare from a lit torch licked at the stone with eerie tongues of flame.
Iron bars as thick as Imogen’s wrists blocked the way before her, wall to wall.
A single, reinforced door seemed the only entrance. She didn’t have the key for this one.
She peered beyond the bars, heart quickening, yet saw nothing but shadow. “Keys.”
The guard’s eyes shot to her face. “It is not safe.”
Imogen stared ahead. “I did not ask for your opinion. I asked for the keys.”
“Forgive me, Elder, but I don’t have them. Mender Vulgren carries the only key to this cell on his person.”
Imogen closed her eyes briefly. Of course. The vile, careful creature. She glanced toward the guard, his face seeming impossibly young. “Fine. You may leave.”
“But—”
“Go.”
He dipped his head briefly and retreated, leaving Imogen alone before the prison wall. She listened, counting minutes in her head, until she was sure he’d fully gone.
She turned back to the yawning dark, one hand curling around an iron bar. Her voice crept, timid, from her throat, as though hesitant to leave her lips and venture into the abyss. “Karrick.”
Stillness answered her. Silence.
“Karrick, it’s me,” she croaked, icy facade melting away. “It’s…”
Two orbs watched her from the shadows, blacker than the darkness surrounding them. The words lodged in her throat as she watched Karrick emerge from the depths of his cell.
He shifted, trading the deep charcoal-gray pelt of his second form for a man’s skin.
He stepped closer to the bars where she stood, the light from the torch falling on his bare chest and tattered, sagging trousers.
His feet were bare. The shackles fastened to his ankles clanked with his movement.
Imogen’s eyes dipped to the source of the sound, and she winced when she saw the angry red wounds beneath the iron.
“I know who you are, Imogen Atwell.” Karrick’s voice scratched the silence like a claw dragged against stone. “There are many things I endeavor to forget in this place. Your face and name are not among them.”
Imogen’s hand shook where it gripped the bar, her knuckles going white.
She told herself she would not cry when she saw him again.
Vowed it. Yet her lashes misted with tears despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.
When she finally opened her eyes again, Karrick’s darker pair swallowed her sadness and reflected it.
“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.
“You shouldn’t be here, Imogen. There is nothing good here.”
Furious tears welled. “It wasn’t my choice. Queen Serebine sent me back.” She bit off the words, bitter on her tongue. “Only now, I’m not a participant. Now, I get to watch.”
Karrick growled and pushed up from the floor. He began to pace, his chains clanking, wounds leaking to form a trail of bloody footprints. “You should have run, Gen. You should have gotten as far away from here as possible. Claimed a future in the sun, not one buried beneath stone.”
Another stab to her chest. “You say it like it would have been easy. To walk away and never look back. What of your future, Karrick? What of the future we wanted?”
Karrick lurched for the bars, restraints snapping taut. Imogen winced as his cuffs bit deep. “It was a fantasy, Gen,” he growled. “One wasted on me. I am bound by my promise to another.” He rattled his chains. “Bound.”
Imogen stood in a rush and scrubbed at her face. “This was a mistake.”
Karrick glowered in the dark, but when his eyes settled on her face a final time, something else passed over his features.
Imogen turned too abruptly to identify whatever it was. She left the torch and what little warmth it provided near the bars before hurrying toward the stairs. She felt the burn of two black eyes as she left the hall, but she could not bring herself to look back.