The Palace of Impossible Dreams

by Jennifer Fallon

  “Good thing I didn’t get immortalised with a bad haircut,” Hawkes said with a faint smile. “But still, that would explain why I haven’t had to shave in months. Why is that, do you think?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “But you must have wondered about it?”

  “Wondered, yes,” Cayal said. “Cared about it? No.”

  Hawkes fell silent for a time, staring out over the dark water of the channel. After a while, he turned to Cayal. “Do you think they’ve gone now?”

  He nodded. “Certain of it. I ordered the amphibians towing the boats not to stop until they reached the Delta Settlement. No mere human is going to be able to override that compulsion any time soon.” He turned from the water to look back at the darkened village. “We should probably get back to the others.”

  Declan nodded in agreement, falling in beside Cayal as they turned toward the town. “And when they come back? What then?”

  “We’ll give them something else to think about other than murdering the inhabitants of the wetlands.”

  “Can you do that, though?” Hawkes said, unconvinced. “Like you said, the Tide’s not all the way up and Pardura didn’t strike me as the type to give up easily. If he comes back here in force . . .”

  “Then so much the better,” Cayal said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s because in addition to being a narrow-minded, judgemental son-of-a-bitch, you appear to be quite stupid.”

  Hawkes stopped walking. Cayal took a few steps further, realised Hawkes was no longer with him, and then turned to find out why.

  The spymaster was glaring at him.

  “What?”

  “You done?”

  Cayal smiled. “Oh, dear, I’ve hurt your precious little feelings, haven’t I?”

  “You’re starting to piss me off, Cayal.”

  “And what are you planning to do about it, Rodent?” Cayal asked. He’d been needling Hawkes for days now and this was the first time he’d gotten any sort of reaction out of him. “Call me out over it? Challenge me to a duel, perhaps? To the death?”

  “No,” Hawkes said. “I’ll leave.”

  “Now I’m really quaking in my boots.”

  Hawkes shrugged. “I don’t care whether you’re quaking or not. Fact is, Cayal, you need me a whole lot more than I need you.”

  “I need you?” He laughed at the very idea. “Tides, Hawkes, I could lay waste to these entire wetlands without raising a sweat. You think I need your help to get Ambria and Medwen back? You don’t even know which way in the Tide is up.” He turned and headed back up the street.

  “You’re the immortal who wants to die, Cayal,” Declan said to his retreating back.

  Cayal stopped and slowly turned to look at him.

  “You’re the suicidal maniac who needs all the Tide Lord power you can muster to make it happen,” Hawkes added with the certainty of a man absolutely sure of his position. “I don’t even know if all those things you said about Lukys being my father are true. What I do know is that you need my help a whole lot more than I need yours.”

  “You need my help to find Lukys.”

  The spymaster shook his head. “I’m immortal, Cayal; I’ve got the time to find him on my own.”

  Cayal stared at the spymaster, mentally kicking himself for overlooking the fact that Hawkes’s quick wit was more than likely the result of above-average intelligence. It was a foolish mistake to make. And it wasn’t that he didn’t know the two went hand in hand.

  Tides, this man made a living out of lying, spying and manipulating people.

  Like father, like son?

  “So what are you offering?”

  Hawkes smiled. “What am I offering? You’re the one who should be offering me a deal. I found what I came for and I can leave with it any time I please.”

  “Arkady?” Cayal smiled at the bald-faced gall of the man. “Is that your price?”

  “You’ll only hurt her, Cayal.”

  “And you won’t?”

  “I care about her.”

  “Funny, she doesn’t seem to care too much for you that I’ve noticed. Actually, she seems to hate your guts.”

  “That’s for me and Arkady to work out. You do nothing but distract her. And let’s face it, she’s nothing but a distraction to you too.”

  Hawkes was right about that. Arkady made Cayal want to live. And this man had the power to help him die.

  When he thought about it like that, it was a pretty tidy package, really.

  “Fine,” he said with a shrug. “She’s yours.”

  Hawkes seemed suspicious of his quick capitulation. “Just like that? You’re not even going to argue about it?”

  “What would be the point?” Cayal asked with a shrug. “You’re right. What’s even more annoying, you know you’re right. I want Arkady, but I need you. And I want to die more than I want Arkady.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Hawkes said, taking a step closer. “You leave Arkady alone . . . no, you make it quite clear you have no interest in her, and I’ll come with you to Jelidia and help you die.”

  Cayal thrust his hand forward to shake on the deal. “Done!”

  Somewhat more cautiously, Declan accepted his handshake. Cayal wasn’t going to let it rest there, however. It was one thing to let the spymaster win this argument, quite another to have him feeling smug about it.

  “You help me die, and I leave your girl alone,” he agreed, and then added with a jaded smile, “Suits me, anyway. I’ve already slept with her. Your turn now.”

  Hawkes’s fist slammed into his face, sending him flying, almost before he finished speaking. Cayal didn’t retaliate. He didn’t have to. He’d made his point and they both knew it, so he lay on the ground on his back, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth, and waited. Hawkes stood over him, shaking his stinging fist, and then after a few moments, when he realised Cayal wasn’t going to get up and fight back, he turned and strode back toward the cottage, cursing.

  Once he was gone, Cayal pushed himself up, dabbing at his painful, bloody nose. He smiled. Arkady was lost to him, but he was assured of the power of another Tide Lord to help him die.

  That was worth more than a punch in the face. Tides, it was everything he had ever wanted.

  Chapter 54

  “There, how does that feel?”

  The feline, Jojo, sitting on the edge of the scrubbed wooden table, touched her face tentatively, her round eyes full of wonder. “It’s all better!”

  “Of course it’s all better. That’s what I do.” Smiling, Arryl turned to Arkady. “They beat her, sure enough, with a knotted rope, probably. But it looked a lot worse than it was. All that blood matted in her fur didn’t help either.”

  “It’s a remarkable thing to watch someone being healed by magic,” Arkady said. She’d been too busy denying the truth when Cayal cut off his fingers trying to prove he was immortal, to pay attention to the process. And when Declan came to her rescue and did the same to her, she was half-dead and delirious. Watching Arryl work had been quite a revelation.

  Arryl nodded in agreement and turned back to Jojo. “Why don’t you go clean yourself up, dear?” she said, probably aware of how much felines hated to be dirty. “And then come back here when you’re done.”

  “To serve you is the reason I breathe, my lady,” Jojo said, hopping off the kitchen table. The little ginger feline bowed and turned for the door with her freshly healed wounds, snarling silently as the door opened before she reached it and Azquil walked into the small kitchen with Tiji close behind. With teeth bared, she pushed past the two chameleons and disappeared into the darkness.

  “What was that about?” Arkady asked, wondering at the feline’s odd behaviour.

  “We don’t get along with her kind,” Azquil explained. “They think we’re prey and we think they’re murderers.”

  “It’s an age-old prejudice,” Arryl said. “Many of the natural instincts of the original animals the Cra
sii were formed from have followed them into their unique version of humanity.” She shrugged. “Cats like to play with lizards.”

  “They like to torment lizards,” Azquil corrected, “right before they kill them.”

  “You don’t seriously think Jojo would try to kill one of you, do you?”

  “She would if an immortal ordered her to.”

  Arkady glanced at Arryl. “Well, that’s not likely to happen here, is it?”

  “That doesn’t mean another immortal wouldn’t tell her to do it,” Tiji said with a frown, obviously referring to Cayal—and possibly Declan. Things were still quite fraught, Arkady gathered, between Declan and his little pet lizard.

  “I think you malign the poor creature unnecessarily,” Arryl said. “What news of our invaders, Azquil?”

  “They were sailing up the channel toward the Delta Settlement, last we saw. Lord Cayal and Lord Declan were waiting on the dock when we left, to ensure they didn’t turn back.”

  Arkady couldn’t get used to hearing her childhood friend from the slums of Lebec referred to as “Lord Declan.” Neither could Tiji, if the flicker of colour that washed over the chameleon’s skin at the mere mention of his name was anything to go by.

  “Then we have a few days to prepare before they come back.”

  “Do you really think they’ll do what you asked?” Arkady said, still not convinced this plan would work. She was having trouble picturing anyone in Cydne’s family allowing themselves to be dictated to by a woman, immortal goddess or not.

  “Time will tell.” Arryl looked past Arkady and smiled. “Ah, Declan, you’re back. Where’s Cayal?”

  “Outside,” he said, in a tone that implied he couldn’t have cared less. “Could I have a word, Arkady? In private?”

  The only thing that surprised Arkady about Declan’s request was that it had taken him this long to make it. She nodded and picked up a candle from the table without looking at the others, afraid to wonder what they thought of her strange, ever-fluctuating relationship with this man. “We can talk in the other room.”

  Ignoring the others, Declan followed her to the small bedroom with its narrow bed and unpleasant memories, where she had, only a few days previously, smashed all the remaining bottles of Cydne’s lethal tonic. The floorboards were still stained with the evidence of her deed, and the room still reeked of wood alcohol. Declan closed the door as she put the candle on the windowsill and turned to face him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She held her arms out. “See! Not a mark.”

  Declan eyed her speculatively. Self-consciously, she folded her arms across her breasts, which gave her at least the illusion of modesty, even if it did little to conceal her nakedness.

  “It was very brave, what you did out there.”

  Arkady shook her head. “Insulting a child wasn’t brave. Neither was defying her brother. Not when I knew I had a couple of Tide Lords poised to rescue me in the nick of time. That was an impressively theatrical entrance by the way. Whose idea was it? Yours?”

  “I think it was Cayal’s.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Positive. Was that all you wanted to ask me?”

  Declan hesitated, unable to meet her eye.

  “I’ll be getting back to the others, then,” she said, heading for the door.

  “Arkady . . .”

  “What?” she asked, turning back to face him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “Yes, I heard you the first time. I just wanted to see if you were going to choke on the word if you had to say it more than once.”

  Declan wasn’t amused. He sighed and threw his hands up in defeat. “Tides, Arkady, what do you want me to say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, taking a step toward him. “How about I forgive you, Arkady, for all the terrible things you’ve had to do recently, just to stay alive? How about, I was wrong to accuse you of being a whore?”

  “I never said that!”

  “You accused me of trying to sleep with you to discharge a debt, Declan,” she reminded him, determined to make him understand exactly how much he’d wounded her. “The only difference between that and actually taking money for sex is the nature of the contract.”

  “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Yes, you did,” she accused, the urge to lance this festering wound more than she could resist. “It’s exactly what you meant. You think that’s what I do. When you found out I was sleeping with Fillion Rybank, you were furious, even though it started when I was fourteen and didn’t know any better, and only did it because I thought it would save my father. I even thought you’d forgiven me for it. Until I got married. Then you were convinced I was sleeping with Stellan for his money, until you discovered he wasn’t that way inclined, which must have confused the Tides out of you. And when I told you what happened with Cydne, you just assumed I was doing it again, didn’t you?” She shrugged, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I suppose, in hindsight, I shouldn’t be surprised. Why wouldn’t you think I was willing to give my body to the heroic rescuer who saved me from the man-eating ants, with that sort of history?”

  Declan stared at her for a long moment without saying a word.

  Disappointed that he seemed to have nothing more to say, Arkady shrugged. “Apology accepted, Declan. I hope you have a very nice eternity without me.”

  She turned for the door, but before she’d taken more than two steps, Declan grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He didn’t say a word; didn’t offer any excuses or any more hollow apologies. Instead, he did what he should have done the other day at the Outpost when she shared her deepest hopes and dreams with him. He kissed her. Kissed her the way she’d wanted him to kiss her all her life . . .

  Shocked by the unexpectedness of his mouth on hers, Arkady responded without thinking, anger at his presumptuousness fuelling her desire. His strong arms pulled her closer, her naked body pressing against the weave of his shirt as if every fibre was determined to caress her skin.

  For a fleeting moment, Arkady let herself drown in the glory of it . . .

  And then sanity prevailed and she pushed him away, her heart pounding, perversely determined not to give in to such blatant manipulation.

  “Tides, Declan!” Part of Arkady wanted to teach Declan a lesson—punish him for doubting her—even as another part of her wanted to throw herself back into his arms and surrender to the safety and strength of his embrace. “Think you can make it all better with a kiss, do you?”

  Declan reacted to her accusation the same way he always reacted to anything she’d ever scolded him about when they were children.

  He broke into a grin. “Thought it was worth a try.”

  Arkady punched his chest angrily. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “You’ve known that since you were eight years old, Arkady. Why do you sound surprised?”

  Arkady opened her mouth to say . . . nothing. Declan was right. She knew this man better than she knew herself. She knew what drove him; knew what he was like better than he did. And she knew he loved her.

  She’d known that since she was eight years old too.

  “You make it impossible, sometimes,” she accused, fairly certain glaring at him sternly would achieve absolutely nothing at all.

  Gently, he drew her closer. “But I am sorry, Kady . . .”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Kady? Why not?”

  “That was my slave name.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her again, long and lingeringly, and this time Arkady didn’t try to fight it. She closed her eyes, yielding to the blissful notion that in Declan’s arms, there was probably nothing in the world that could hurt her, ever again.

  “I don’t care if they branded you; you were never a slave, Kady,” he said softly
when she lay her head on his chest with a sigh.

  She smiled, relishing the feeling of being held by a man she not only loved, but more importantly, one she trusted. “That’s not what I was thinking when I was on my hands and knees—”

  “You don’t have to explain, my love.”

  “I was going to say,” she said, leaning back in his arms, “scrubbing floors. You’ve got a dirty mind, Declan Hawkes.” Reaching up to put her arms around him, she studied him for a moment and wondered, Tides, why have I spent half my life keeping the only man I’ve ever really loved, ever really trusted . . . at arm’s length?

  “Do you forgive me, Arkady?”

  “Do you forgive me?” she asked, searching his face for some hint that he was merely pandering to her; saying what she wanted to hear in order to put an awkward argument behind them. She knew him well enough not to put that past him, either.

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “Not even Cayal?”

  For a brief moment, Arkady thought she saw a flicker of anger, maybe even jealousy, in his eyes, but it was gone almost before she had time to register it was there. She hoped he could get past that because there was no way to explain what she felt for Cayal other than the realisation that in his arms she’d never really felt safe. Living in a constant state of danger, exhilarating as it was in the short term, was not the way she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

  “Cayal’s not going to be a problem between us, Arkady,” he promised, “ever again.”

  It seemed a very brave statement to make, and Arkady didn’t want to ruin this watershed moment in their relationship by pointing that out, but . . .

  “Declan . . .”

  He placed his finger on her lips and shook his head. “No. Don’t say it. We’ve got a fresh start. You’re free—from slavery, from Stellan, from everything. And so am I. I love you, Arkady. I always have, and I will go to my grave wishing I’d—”

  “You’ll what?”

  He smiled. “Bad choice of words.”

  She reached up to touch his cheek. It felt rough under her hand, darkened by a shadow of stubble that hadn’t grown noticeably in the last few days. “It’s all right, Declan. I understand.”