Chapter 19
CHANGES
“HOW WAS YOUR OUTING, DEAREST?”
Imogen studied a crack in the stone wall to avoid looking Vulgren in the eyes. “Fine,” she replied.
He hummed, hands clasped behind his back. “Nothing interesting to report?”
She did glance at him then. Lieutenant Gore stood at the entrance to Vulgren’s office, and Imogen felt his attention sharpen.
“No,” she said calmly.
Vulgren hummed again and stepped to his desk. He lifted a sheaf of parchment and peered at whatever was written on it. “I apologize that your time here has thus far been uneventful, Elder Imogen. I know how eager you are to continue your duties to the Prima and your queen.”
Imogen would have relaxed at the change in topic, but it was impossible to find calm in Vulgren’s presence.
Lieutenant Gore, at least, seemed to settle at his post, confident that Imogen stayed true to her word and did not report his lapse in attention at the tavern.
She closed the door, closing herself off from the young guard.
“My dearest mothers seem to have unintentionally synchronized their fertile cycles,” he continued. “Fortunately, our newest mother has a cycle approaching. I’d like you to spend some time with her. Ready her to service my Primordial Male.”
Imogen fought to maintain a neutral expression. Karrick wasn’t his. He’d never belong to such filth as Vulgren. Never belong to anyone.
“I can have you escorted to her chamber. We’ve increased the mothers’ comforts, dearest. I think you’ll be pleased with their new quarters.”
“And what of the Primordial Male?” she demanded, unable to stop the question. “Why have his comforts not been assured?”
Vulgren peered toward the door before resettling on her, pale blue eyes unblinking. “My dearest elder, the Primordial Male is ferocious indeed. It is imperative that we keep him secured lest his instincts drive him to escape and fornicate ungoverned.”
Imogen couldn’t conceal the curl of disgust that lifted her lip. She leaned forward, enunciating each word with care. “That male is sacred, is he not?”
She’d caught him off guard. “Of course.”
“Then he should be treated as such. The Goddess’s curse cannot be broken without him.
” Imogen lifted her chin. “Your treatment of him despoils the very purpose he was meant to fulfill. I have trained the Prima for her presentation to a male worthy of their fated task, not one chained and starving in a dungeon cell. The Primordial Male’s current state is an affront. ”
Vulgren’s head bobbed, the smooth skin of his forehead glistening. “Elder Imogen, we humble servants have displeased you.”
No. Just you, Vulgren. “A displeasure I am obligated to report to my queen.”
That’s right, Imogen thought. You’re not the only one who reports to Serebine. Go ahead and writhe, ugly worm.
Vulgren considered her. “What would you have us do, Elder?”
“You maintain a secure Stronghold, Mender Vulgren,” she said, insides twisting at the compliment. “There is ample space. Surely you can have the Prima’s intended relocated to more comfortable accommodations.”
Vulgren made to reply, but Imogen forged on.
“Ones which are equally secure,” she insisted.
“And he should be provided sufficient provisions. I am certain the queen would disapprove of her daughter being presented to a malnourished male.” Her stomach clenched, but she forced her voice to remain steady.
“What if…your mistreatment impairs his holy seed?”
Vulgren looked appropriately appalled by the suggestion. “He has been offered adequate sustenance! The male refuses to eat.”
Imogen sneered. “Would you not lose your appetite if forced to sit shackled in the cold dark, knowing you were divinely chosen? It is unconscionable, Mender.”
Vulgren’s hands fluttered to his chest. “You humble me, Elder. I—”
“I will oversee his relocation, Mender Vulgren,” Imogen said, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say and reopening the door.
“Select an appropriately defensible chamber, have it outfitted as needed, and I will ensure he is settled with the assistance of the available guard.” She glanced across the threshold at Lieutenant Gore, who straightened slightly at her attention.
“Elder Imogen, this is quite dangerous,” Vulgren insisted. “If you were to be harmed—”
Imogen turned hard eyes onto the greasy old man.
“I am an Elder of Doceo, Mender Vulgren, and the Prima’s personal instructor.
Do not forget that I have succeeded where all others have failed.
That male will not harm me. In fact, I am very likely the only shurii here capable of ensuring his compliance. ”
Vulgren hesitated. Had she pushed him too far? Overestimated her importance?
“The decision is yours, Mender,” she said, somehow managing grave nonchalance. “Whatever you decide, I am sure Queen Serebine will understand your rationale upon receiving my report.”
Her words settled something in Vulgren. Imogen watched as a tentative light flickered in his eerie, unblinking eyes. He regarded her. “Elder, you impress me. We are ever humble students of the greater divine. It shall be as you request.”
Karrick’s eyes daggered through Imogen’s back as she walked with the guarded escort out of the dark and away from that godforsaken cell of his.
She didn’t dare turn to look at him. Couldn’t risk even the flicker of concern passing over her features.
It took everything inside her to maintain the air of indifference that she bolted around her countenance like a protective shell.
Vulgren marched beside her, pale gaze darting back every few steps, likely fearing Karrick’s attack and escape in equal measure.
But Karrick made no move to do either. He simply stalked in silence, chains clanking about his wrists and throat, their tethers held by armed guards. She’d had the ones securing his ankles removed.
The room Vulgren had prepared for Karrick was only one level above the dungeon he’d just vacated.
Imogen had wanted chambers on the upper level, but Vulgren ardently refused, claiming it was too easily accessible.
She’d agreed, despite herself, not wanting to cause unwanted suspicion regarding her intentions.
They strode down a narrow hallway and approached two guards posted before a single door.
A hastily installed iron gate blocked the entrance.
Thick bars had been hammered into the surrounding stone, secured from ceiling to floor.
How Vulgren managed to commission the construction of the gate on such short notice baffled Imogen.
She was both irritated and impressed by the obvious resources at his disposal.
Vulgren motioned the guards to unlock the entry gate, and they all stepped inside. The exit was bolted behind them, and Karrick’s shackles were secured to a thick metal ring in the wall. Imogen looked questioningly at Vulgren, who explained, “To allow us time to inspect the rooms, Elder.”
She stepped ahead of Vulgren into Karrick’s new chamber. The room was dim and somewhat cramped, but it offered more space than the cell below and was furnished. A thick coverlet had been folded across the mattress. Imogen swallowed. At least he’d be warm.
Vulgren watched Imogen as she made a show of inspecting the chamber. The single armoire was stocked with several changes of clean clothes, a deep, albeit narrow tub occupied the far wall, and a simple desk sat opposite.
“Very well, Mender Vulgren,” she said. “You may show him in.”
“We should depart, Elder. I will have the guards escort him once we are safely away.”
Imogen allowed her voice to go cold. “I have assured Her Majesty, the Queen, that I would oversee this transition to her satisfaction, Mender Vulgren. You are here out of respect to your position, but do not mistake that respect for necessity. I operate under the authority of our sovereign. I do not require your presence.”
The flash of displeasure crossed Vulgren’s features, and anxiety-induced nausea crawled up Imogen’s throat. She wasn’t sure how much farther she could push, but she appeared to be reaching a threshold. After a moment, though, Vulgren dipped his head in acquiescence and called for the guard.
A few seconds later, the door reopened, and Karrick stepped through, led by Second Lieutenant Gore and one other.
“Leave us,” Imogen commanded.
“But Elder,” Vulgren began.
“This male is ruled by his divine instincts, Mender Vulgren,” Imogen said sternly. “He will not harm me once unbound, but I cannot make any guarantee for another male’s safety, even in my presence. This is the only way.”
She held her hand out to Lieutenant Gore for the key to Karrick’s shackles and instructed them to secure the exit once they left.
“I will be right behind you.”
The young Lieutenant warily placed an iron key into Imogen’s outstretched hand before ushering Vulgren and the remaining guard out the door. Only when Imogen heard the bolt fastened did she allow herself to breathe.
She stepped up to Karrick and reached for his shackles with trembling fingers. The key slipped in her grip when she tried to fit it into the lock and clinked as it hit the floor. Imogen dipped to retrieve it, cursing her uncustomary clumsiness.
When she straightened and tried again, Karrick’s larger hand closed over hers. His steady fingers guided her still-trembling ones as they turned the key, and the shackles fell away. Her lip quivered. Curse her. She would not cry. Her useless tears were the last thing this man needed.
Karrick scratched at his throat and looked around the room. “What is this?”
Imogen followed his gaze. “This is your new room. I’m sorry it’s not very big. But it’s warm. You’ll be fed. More than those miserable scraps. And there’s a tub so you can bathe—”
“Gen,” he said, and she ceased her rambling. Karrick sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him. Imogen sat.
He lifted a hand as though to turn her face toward him, but stopped, attention snagging on the grime that caked the underside of jagged nails. His hand dropped to his lap. An ocean-deep sadness pooled in his gaze. “You know this changes nothing,” he said. “I am still a prisoner here.”
Her eyes welled, and she tensed her jaw, determined to stop her tears spilling over. “I know that,” she said. “But at least you’re not in a cell.”
“Am I not? What difference does it make whether there’s a bed?”
She steeled herself. “You’d rather I left you there?”
Karrick’s dark eyes grew stern. “I’d rather you left. I told you that.”
Imogen blew out a frustrated breath. She didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her.
She didn’t even know what she wanted. She just knew it wasn’t this.
Imogen remembered their time together as though only hours, not years, had transpired since.
How did she bridge the gap that pain and loss created?
How did she tend to wounds that lay beneath the surface of their skin?
That no words, no empty promises could heal?
“I loved you,” she whispered, eyes falling to her lap.
Karrick sighed heavily beside her. As though the weight of her confession were too heavy to hold in his chest.
Imogen cleared her throat when he didn’t respond, his silence settling on her with sudden disappointment. She stood, smoothing her vestments. “I know that a clean room and proper meals change nothing.”
“Gen—”
“But I have been tasked with ensuring that the Prima’s presentation proceeds as expected. Your health is an integral part of that success.”
She stepped toward the door.
“Gen, I’m sorry,” Karrick said, running a hand over his matted hair.
She paused.
“I am grateful for your efforts,” he said behind her. “Though I wish thoughts of my well-being did not burden you. I wish…” he sighed again. “I wish a great many things.”
She turned. “My thoughts are the least of my burdens, Karrick. This was a small thing that I could do.”
He nodded, dark eyes boring into hers. “My words don’t change anything either,” he said. “But you should know that I loved you, too.”
Imogen froze, swallowed by Karrick’s stare, the weight of his affirmation. He was wrong. His words changed everything.
But she was out of time. “I’ll have hot water hauled in for a bath,” she promised. “And a proper meal. Please eat it.”
Then she left.