The Palace of Impossible Dreams (35 page)

Desean smiled sympathetically. “We make an odd pair of conspirators, Warlock, but it's nice to know there's at least one friendly face in this place. I'll do what I can to help you.”

“And my mate?”

“That's a harder nut to crack, but I'll see what I can do.”

Warlock nodded, content he'd done all he could, for the time being, to protect his family.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Declan lay awake until dawn watching Arkady sleep, holding her, wondering if, in the cold light of day—once gratitude for saving her life and healing her wounds had lost its veneer—she would ever willingly spend another night in his arms. Although she seemed to have taken the news about his immortality in her stride, a lot had happened yesterday. He was half-expecting Arkady to wake up and have a reaction similar to Tiji's.

So he savoured this night, and held her close. In sleep, her face was peaceful—the alertness, the coiled-spring awareness of her relaxed, for once. Her long dark hair drifted down her back. The pre-dawn light revealed only a little of the pale perfection of her skin; the rest of her body was hidden by the sheet he'd thrown over them for protection from the insects of the wetlands.

The fabric had draped itself around the mounds and hollows of her body, only one long, perfect leg poking out from underneath the sheet where she had kicked it aside in her sleep. Her head lay on his shoulder, her face toward him.

He couldn't remember ever loving her more.

Eternity is not going to be a pleasant prospect
, he thought,
once Arkady is gone.

It was the first time he'd allowed himself to consider the reality of his situation—the bitter flipside of living forever.

“Tides, Declan,” she murmured sleepily, “you look so miserable, anybody would think your grandfather just died.”

He hadn't realised she was awake. “He did die, actually, only I wasn't thinking about him.”

She lifted her head to stare at him. “Shalimar is
dead
?”

He wished he'd broken the news a little less bluntly, but it was too late now. “A couple of months ago.”

“I'm so sorry, Declan.”

He shrugged, not sure what else to tell her, lamenting the fact he wasn't better at delivering bad news. “He's not suffering anymore. That's something, I suppose.”

Arkady fell silent, and lay her head on his shoulder again, but made no attempt to move out of his arms, which was remarkable because he was
expecting her to leap across the room in fright the moment she realised where she was. But she stayed put and when she finally spoke again, it wasn't to ask after his grandfather.

“Are you really immortal now, Declan?” she asked softly.

Tides, how do I tell her about this?
“I'm afraid so.”

She seemed much less concerned about it than he was. “I thought I'd dreamed that bit. Actually, I was kind of hoping I'd dreamed
most
of the past few months.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. “I know
that
feeling well.”

“Are you angry with me, Declan?”

That
question took him completely by surprise. “Me? Angry with
you
? Tides, Arkady, what have I got to be angry at you about?”

She sighed forlornly. “Where do I
start
? I got caught up with Kinta and Brynden. I ran into Cayal again and because of that, I got myself sold into slavery, and you don't want to even think about how I survived
that.
And then you had to follow me halfway around the world to rescue me, the irony being I probably wouldn't have
needed
rescuing, except apparently I was mass-murdering innocent Crasii in my spare time, your little pet, Tiji, among them.” She smiled sadly. “Tides, Declan . . .
angry
at me? I can't believe you're still
speaking
to me.”

“Take more than a few dead Crasii to make me hate you, Arkady,” he said. On impulse, he bent his head to hers and kissed her briefly on the lips, if only to reassure her that he meant what he said. He knew he'd made a mistake the moment he did it, because she went rigid in his arms.

“Declan . . .”

Tides, here it comes
 . . .
you're my best friend
 . . .
you know I love you
 . . .
but you're my friend
 . . .
And I really can't deal with you being immortal
 . . .

“It's all right, Arkady. I understand.”

She pushed herself up until she was leaning on his chest. The thin shawl across her breasts that Arryl had given her in Watershed Falls had slipped during the night. It was doing little to conceal them and nothing to lessen the feeling of her body pressing against his. With her face only inches from his, she looked him in the eye. “I'm not the person who left Glaeba, Declan. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've had to do to survive.”

He was amused by the notion that he'd worried every day since leaving Glaeba about Arkady's reaction to discovering he was immortal, and now when he had finally found her, she was worried about what
he'd
think of
her.
“I don't care what you've done, Arkady. If you and I start judging
each other, neither of us is going to come out of the exercise looking too good.”

“Do you forgive me?”

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her comfortingly. “There's nothing to forgive. You did what you had to do to stay alive. Nobody can ask more of a person than that.”

“So, is this new-found tolerance because you're immortal now, or because I'm lying on top of you half naked?”

“Oh, you noticed you were half naked, did you?”

She smiled at him. “You know, when I was dying, tied to that wretched tree in Watershed Falls, I only wanted to see one person.”

“And you ended up with me. I'm sorry.”

Arkady's smile faded. “Don't tease. I'm trying to tell you something important here. If you're going to make light of my epiphany, I won't share it with you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “By all means, share your epiphany.”

“Well, I was thinking about Cayal.”

Oh, I
so
wanted to hear that
 . . .

“I was thinking about him and Gabriella. About how sad it was he was never able to be with the one true love of his life, even for a short time.”

“Didn't she drop him like a hot rock at the first sign of trouble and then marry his brother after his sister exiled him? Sounds to me like he was better off without her.”

“But that's just it. Do you think he'd be quite so suicidal or depressed now if he'd known love, even once, rather than lost it?”

“I have no idea,” he said, looking at her with concern. She wasn't kidding when she said she wasn't the same person she'd been in Glaeba. The Arkady of old would have scorned the notion of a man pining for lost love for thousands of years. He wondered if it was her recent brush with death or her months in slavery that had affected her so profoundly. “And to be honest, Arkady, there aren't words to describe how little I
care
about whether or not the Immortal Prince still has a broken heart after eight thousand years.”

“I know, and that's not why I'm telling you this. It just got me to thinking, you see, about life in general. And some of the decisions I've made. Some of the things I've done and what I'd do if I had my time over again. I don't want to end up like Cayal.”

He studied her curiously in the faint dawn light seeping through the cracks in the walls, a little uncomfortable with how intimate this conversation was
getting. “So, let me see if I've got this right. There you are, tied to a tree covered in thorny spines, slowly bleeding to death from a score of stab wounds, delirious from dehydration and sunburn, just waiting for the flesh-devouring ants to come eat you alive, and you decide you don't want to be suicidal. Fair enough. Probably not how
I
would have handled it . . .”

She slapped his chest in annoyance. “Stop it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not. You're making fun of me.”

“You're right. I'm not sorry. I am making fun of you. I promise to stop interrupting.”

She flopped down beside him and crossed her arms grumpily. “I
was
going to tell you I was sorry I'd never told you how much I loved you,” she said. “But you're being a bastard about it, so now I don't think I will.”

Ah, but do you love me as a friend or a lover? That's the question
 . . .

“I wouldn't have believed you anyway,” he said aloud, fairly certain being flippant wasn't helping his cause but unable to think of anything more profound to woo her with. Declan wished he had even an ounce of romance in his soul.
That's probably what attracts her to Cayal. He's had thousands of years to think up exactly the right things to say
 . . . “You don't love me at all. You're always marrying other men, running off with them . . .”

“That's a terrible thing to accuse me of!”

“But true, nevertheless, you'd have to agree.”

She turned to look at him again, grinning.
Tides, why does nobody else understand me like she does?
“You know, Stellan told me once I should take you to my bed and put you out of your misery.”

“A good wife would have listened to her husband,” he said. “Shame on you for not doing as he commanded.”

She smiled briefly . . . and then the moment was lost, her thoughts turning to her husband. “Tides, poor Stellan. I wonder what's happened to him? I wish I knew whether he was alive or dead.”

Declan debated lying to her and then figured there wasn't much point. Besides, Stellan's
power
had always been the thing Arkady lusted after, not Stellan himself. Arkady was here in his arms, after all. He doubted her husband could come between them now.

“He's alive,” Declan assured her. “And safe for the time being. Everyone in Glaeba thinks you're a widow, however.”

“You've seen him?”

“He's the one who pulled me out of the prison fire.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Does that mean he's finally admitted to himself that the Tide Lords exist?”

Declan nodded. “Between what happened to me and meeting Maralyce, he really didn't have a choice.”

“You took him to meet
Maralyce
?”

“Stellan's had a few epiphanies of his own, lately.”

“I'm becoming quite taken with epiphanies. And I don't ever want my life to flash before my eyes like that again . . .” she punctuated her words with a kiss that was neither chaste nor friendly and Declan thought he might die from wanting her, immortal or no, “. . . and see it filled with so much regret.”

Declan couldn't think of a single thing to say which didn't sound either trite or ridiculous, so he didn't even try. Instead, he wrapped his fingers in her thick, dark hair, drew her close, and kissed her again, relishing the feel of her in his arms, in his bed, her body pressed against his, wondering how this reality could be so much better than his dreams. Whatever had happened to her these past few months—however profound her epiphany—the change in her was remarkable. The Arkady of his youth would have slapped him had he tried to kiss her like that. The new Arkady seemed much less reticent, much more anxious to make up for lost time.

She kissed him back so wantonly it left him gasping . . . even as a small, insidious, unwelcome worm of doubt crept in . . .

Suppose she's just doing this out of relief? Out of gratitude?

Out of some misguided notion that she somehow owed him something?

Tides, suppose she really is taking Stellan's advice and “putting me out of my misery”?

Declan wanted Arkady to love him, not pity him, or feel indebted to him for all his years of faithful service. And he wasn't entirely certain that Arkady was simply treating him the same way she must have had to treat her slave master these past few months. She might well do something like that. It certainly hadn't taken her long to work out how to survive as a slave.

In his dreams there had never been any doubt about Arkady's love. When she finally came to him, it wasn't supposed to be like this. There wasn't supposed to be any questions . . .

Overwhelmed by suspicion, he pushed her away.
Tides
 . . .
I can't believe I'm doing this
 . . .

Arkady looked surprised, hurt, and more than a little embarrassed. “Declan . . . Oh, Tides, I'm so sorry . . .”

“For what?”

“I didn't mean to throw myself at you like that . . . I only meant to . . .”

“What? Put me out of my misery?”

She sat up and retied the shawl around her breasts, a gesture that was as disappointing as it was final. “That's a cruel thing to suggest.”

Declan studied her closely, wondering what self-destructive impulse was making him do this. He didn't know and couldn't stop himself, in any case. “You could have had me any time you wanted me at the mere crook of your little finger, Arkady. Why now?”

“Because I thought you loved me.”

“I've loved you all your life and you've known it too. It never did me any good before now.”

“You saved my life, Declan.”

“And you're happy to sleep with me to discharge the debt, is that it? Or does saving your life mean I own you now, and you're doing what's required of you to keep me happy?”

Arkady's eyes glistened. “You know, I thought immortality hadn't made the slightest difference to you. But I was wrong. It's turned you into a heartless, selfish prick.” She scrambled over the top of him, climbed to her feet, straightened the tiny slave skirt and shawl she wore and let herself out of the storeroom, slamming the door behind her so hard the whole wall shook with the force of it.