Chapter 39 #2
She told Karrick about the mender tortured on the temple steps.
“And Domitan calls himself king,” Karrick remarked, pushing his plate away. “He’s a blight. His rule is a farce.”
Imogen sat on Karrick’s cot and rubbed her temples. “You can’t say things like that,” she said. “You need to be more careful.”
“Oh? Like you?”
She squinted at him. Did he have any idea? No. He thought the extent of her recklessness was petitioning Vulgren for better accommodations. Well, Karrick was in for one hell of a surprise.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” she told him.
Karrick squared his shoulders, giving her his undivided attention.
Despite his posture, Imogen spied a flicker of apprehension pass over his features.
She felt immediately guilty. The last time she’d visited, she’d dropped a virtual powder keg into his lap, lit the fuse, and then walked away.
How long had it taken her to manage the grief associated with the loss of their daughter? Years?
She’d given Karrick mere days.
“About the last time I was here,” she blurted, struggling for words but needing to say them, “about what I told you…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Karrick. I wanted you to know. You deserved to know, and I should have told you sooner, and—”
Karrick sat beside her and took her hand, silencing her fumbling.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said softly. “I’m still processing everything.
” His hand flexed, squeezing hers tightly before he loosened his grip.
“I’ve got a lot of anger, Gen. So much fucking anger in me.
” He breathed deeply. “I don’t want my knowledge of our daughter to be tainted by it. ”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. What else could she say?
Karrick squeezed her hand again, gentler. “What is it you came to discuss?”
Imogen shifted on the bed, turning to face him.
The warm reddish undertone to his brown skin was back, dissipating the ashen cast to his complexion.
The strong angles of his jaw were visible after having been shaved, the initial razor bumps finally calmed.
His hair had begun to regrow; it had been oiled and sectioned into neat twists.
He no longer looked so gaunt. Regular meals and time spent out of that godsforsaken dungeon had done him good.
Imagine what freedom would do.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Imogen said without preamble.
Karrick studied her. When he realized her sincerity, he dropped her hand. “You’re serious.”
“As the grave.”
Karrick frowned. Then he stood. Paced. “What have you gotten yourself involved in, Gen?” He faced her. “You want to talk about exercising caution? Do you have any idea the risk—”
“Oh, stop it, Karrick,” Imogen said, cutting him off. “I don’t need a lecture on risky behavior; I was raised in this city. Why do you think I want you to be careful?”
He glared at her.
“Will you at least listen to me?”
He did. Imogen told him about Mender Alcuin and Cinah Creed. Told him about their contact in the guard. The assurances they hoped to provide. The timeline for their escape. Imogen was an excellent judge of character. She felt she could trust them.
There was always a risk. But weren’t some things worth it? Wasn’t this?
“And your mother?”
Imogen’s chest tightened at Karrick’s concern. “Mender Alcuin has planned for her safety once we’re gone.”
“You should go, Gen,” Karrick said. He turned to face the desk, staring at something scrawled on a piece of parchment.
Why was he being so stubborn? “I’m not leaving without you, Karrick.”
“Then you are wasting an opportunity.”
“Karrick,” she urged, “you could have a life. Freedom. Away from this awful place. Don’t you want that?”
“Of course I want that,” he said, voice strained. He finally tore his eyes from the paper. “I want it more than anything.”
“I don’t understand.”
Karrick’s face was painted in anguish. “I made a promise, Gen. I have a responsibility.”
Imogen’s brain stalled. Of course. She wasn’t pleading with Karrick Kaine. The father of her child. The man she loved. She was appealing to the Primordial Male. And he had a duty to… “The Prima.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
Karrick’s nostrils flared, jaw tight. He nodded once.
He made a promise. To who? The Goddess?
That vengeful bitch.
“But—”
“If my life were my own, Imogen Atwell, I would take you away from this wretched place and never leave your side.” Karrick’s dark eyes blazed with umber fire.
“You would rue the day you loved me.” He knelt before her and trailed his fingers through her woven braids.
“Because even after you had endured my presence a hundred years, I would have an eternity yet to give you. There would be no escaping me.”
Rue the day? He spoke of heaven. Of paradise.
Karrick softly settled his hands on her shoulders. Sadness stole the burn in his gaze. “But my life is not my own, Gen. I made a vow. It is not in me to forsake it.”
Imogen released a shaking breath. “She’s not here.”
A moment passed. Karrick’s brow pinched. “Who?”
She hated the sting behind her eyes. The bite of unreasonable jealousy. She pushed up from the bed. “Felíne. The Prima. She’s gone.”
Karrick rose from his crouch, studying her closely. “Gone?”
“She was taken. It was a mistake.” Imogen briefly recounted what Cinah had told her. Karrick’s expression grew increasingly grave. He listened, and when she was finished, stood in quiet contemplation.
A thought came to Imogen’s mind. She worried her lip. Would she stoop so low? Was she that desperate to secure Karrick’s freedom? Even if he’d just plainly stated they could never be together? She set her jaw. Yes. She was.
“Let me get you out of here,” Imogen said, voice surprisingly firm. “I’ll go with you to Meress. To Felíne.” Every word was a knife to her heart. “You can still keep your promise.”
Imogen hated the emotion that washed over Karrick’s handsome features. He gazed at her for a long moment.
“Okay,” he said, decision made. “Tell your allies to make their preparations.”
Imogen didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded and turned to leave. Before she reached the door, she glimpsed the parchment on Karrick’s desk—the one he’d been staring at—and the image sketched onto it with painstaking detail.
A lone tree at the top of a small hill, covered in lovely little orchids.