The Palace of Impossible Dreams (7 page)

Declan turned back to the pile of dirt beside the grave they'd dug out the day before, forcefully thrusting the spade into the cold earth. “She barely knew him.”

“Is that a prerequisite for grief? Longevity of acquaintance?”

“I suppose not,” Declan said, shovelling another spadeful of dirt into the grave.

They worked in silence for a time, the still, chilly mountain air silent but for the rhythmic thud of dirt landing in the grave. The hole was perhaps half full when Stellan stopped to rest, wiping the sweat from his brow as he leaned on the handle of his spade.

“Not used to hard physical labour?” Declan asked, as he continued to work.

“Not really, no,” Stellan agreed. “Although since being a guest here, I've learned the value of it.” He smiled wanly. “Not all of that woodpile is your work, you know.”

Declan lay his spade aside and reached for the waterskin. “You still talk like you're the lord of the manor.”

“Do I?”

“Can't help yourself.” Declan tossed him the waterskin and picked up his spade. “And it's contagious. Arkady wasn't married to you more than a month before she started talking the same way.”

Stellan took a long swig from the skin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he replied. “You have a problem with that, don't you?”

Declan shrugged and continued to shovel dirt over his grandfather, although there was no sign of him any longer. “Arkady can talk any way she likes.”

“I meant with me marrying Arkady.”

“Arkady is free to
marry
anybody she likes too.”

“You've never been happy about it though, have you?”

Declan stopped to look at him. “Tides, Desean, you've been married to her for the better part of seven years. What? You wanna fight about it
now
?”

“On the contrary, I don't want to fight about Arkady at all.”

“Then shut up and keep shovelling.” Declan slammed the spade into the loose earth beside the grave, irritation lending him strength.

“I want you to find her for me.”

Declan emptied the earth into the grave and then leaned on the spade, turning to look at the former duke. “You want me to
what
?”

“I want you to find Arkady and bring her home.”

“Why don't
you
go look for her? You're her husband. And it's not as if you have anything better to do right now.”

Stellan shook his head. “I'm supposed to be dead, remember?”

“So am I.”

“Perhaps, but you're not the heir to the Glaeban throne, Declan. If you miraculously return from the dead, it's not going to start the sort of trouble my resurrection will cause.”

“You don't think Arkady wouldn't like to know you're alive?”

“Even if I wanted to announce it in the town square of Herino, I don't
have anything close to the discreet contacts you have, particularly in Torlenia, to find her.”

The reminder that Arkady was currently missing somewhere in Torlenia silenced the objection Declan was about to make. Not only was she in Torlenia, but last he'd heard, the immortal Kinta was Arkady's newest best friend. She could be anywhere by now.

“I don't know what's happened to her, Declan. And I have no way, any longer, of ensuring she's well. When I left her at the palace with the Imperator's Consort, she was safe enough, but news of my arrest—”

“Whoa!” Declan said, wondering if he'd misheard the duke. “You left her
where
?”

“With the Imperator's Consort in the Royal Seraglium. You know what Torlenia is like. I couldn't leave her at the embassy on her own, and Lady Chintara was kind enough to offer . . . What's the matter? You look as if I left her camped on a street corner.”

“Tides!” Declan swore. “She might have been better off if you had.”

Stellan frowned, clearly puzzled by Declan's reaction to his news. “But that's my point, don't you see? Her status as the Ambassador of Glaeba's wife would have been thrown into doubt the moment I was arrested. I've had no word from her, Declan. I don't know if the Torlenians have offered her asylum, if she's been thrown out on the street, or if Jaxyn's had her arrested and she's already on her way back to Glaeba.”

“It may make little difference,” Declan said, picking up his shovel.

“Why?”

“Because the Imperator's Consort is an immortal.”

Stellan stared at him in disbelief.

“Oh, you think that's not possible? You, who brought the Lord of Temperance home and kept him as a pet for nigh on a year without realising what he was?” Declan shovelled dirt into the grave as he spoke, glad of something physical to do; glad of something else to do with his spade other than crown Stellan Desean with it. “You who didn't even know his own flesh and blood well enough to spot that his niece had probably been murdered and replaced by an immortal?”

Stellan shook his head. “I had no idea . . . Declan . . . Tides, I'm still trying to adjust to the idea that immortals exist at all.”

“Well, now that you've got your head around that little dilemma, try to get your head around this one. Your precious Lady Chintara is the immortal Charioteer, Kinta. As far as we can tell, she is the Imperator of Torlenia's
Consort because that's the best place to be if you're planning to topple him, so you can hand the entire country to your boyfriend—a fellow with the reassuring moniker of the Lord of Reckoning, by the way—just as soon as the Tide turns. Just like Jaxyn and Diala have lined themselves up to take Glaeba by the throat, as soon as the time is right. Just like Syrolee and her lot are doing in Caelum, which is why we're hiding Nyah here in the mountains, remember. In case you'd forgotten.”

“How do we stop them?”

Declan kept on shovelling. “We can't.”

“Can't or won't?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Stellan studied him for a moment before carefully suggesting, “You're one of them now, Declan. Perhaps you're no longer as dedicated to seeking the destruction of the immortals as you once were. I mean . . . their doom is now your doom too.”

Declan was disgusted by the very suggestion. “You think a freak accident has turned me into some sort of power hungry monster? Is that it?”

Stellan shrugged. “I have no idea what it's done to you. All I know is Arkady is missing and you're the only man I know—mortal or immortal—with the ability, the resources and more importantly the
will
, to find her and bring her home.”

“What makes you so damned sure about that?”

“Because you love her, Declan, probably more than I do.”

Declan didn't bother answering that one. He kept on shovelling for a time and then glanced over the half-filled grave at Stellan. “You planning to move any more of this dirt or just stand there, like the lord of the flankin' manor, making profound announcements on shit you know nothing about?”

Stellan picked up his shovel. “You know I'm right, Declan.”

“What I
know
, Desean, is this,” he said, putting all his effort into filling the grave, his words punctuated by shovel after shovel-load of falling dirt. “Arkady married you because you offered her wealth and comfort and safety and a chance for her father to go free. I never agreed with what she did, but I understood
why
she did it. And now, because of that deal, she's stranded in a foreign country with no money, no protection and probably the captive of an immortal who's very pissed off with the
last
immortal your wife made friends with. She is neither safe, comfortable, nor wealthy, and just to make things really interesting, there's a warrant out for her arrest, issued by the immortal
you
brought into your palace, because you were too
blinded by lust to recognise the danger a menace like Jaxyn is to everything you hold dear, including your wife.” He straightened, tossing the spade aside. “So don't you dare stand there and tell me I'm the one responsible for rescuing Arkady, your
grace.
She wouldn't
need
rescuing if it wasn't for you.”

Declan turned to leave, deciding Desean could finish the job. Besides, if he stayed much longer in his present mood, Shalimar might not be alone in his grave for long.

“
You
sent her to interview the Immortal Prince,” Stellan called after him. “I'll admit my culpability for allowing Jaxyn into our lives, Declan, and for not realising Kylia was not who she claimed, but don't blame me for all of it. You're the one who introduced Arkady to Cayal.”

Declan hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. “So we're equally to blame.”

“I don't think we are,” Stellan said, shaking his head. “I might have endangered our position by bringing Jaxyn home, but you're right—I
was
blinded by lust. You, on the other hand, apparently knew all along that Kyle Lakesh was actually the Immortal Prince. And yet you sent her to him, for your own selfish reasons, even knowing the danger he represented.”

That was a charge Declan couldn't deny, so he didn't bother trying. Instead, he turned from the path leading back to the clearing where Maralyce's cabin was located and headed into the woods, letting his anger and frustration guide him.

“You know I'm right, Declan!” Stellan called.

Declan ignored the duke, certain that if he turned back to confront Stellan now, only one of them would emerge from the encounter alive.

As Declan couldn't die, that really left only one likely outcome.

He'd heard Nyah's wretched Prayer for the Dead enough for one day.

“Tides, will you be careful with that stuff!” Tryan called impatiently as Warlock felt his way down the bouncing gangway from the barge carrying two suitcases, a hat box and his lordship's malletball clubs. He surprised himself by making it to the luggage wagon parked at the end of the dock without tripping over something, where he handed over the luggage to the two canines loading the wagon. Lady Elyssa stood beside her brother, watching the unloading of the barge with vast disinterest.

“I'll take the female,” Warlock heard the immortal tell his sister. Although they were posing as Caelish nobles, Warlock still thought of them by their Immortal names, Tryan and Elyssa, not the assumed names they were currently using, which were Lord Tyrone and Lady Alysa of Torfail. The stink of the suzerain could not be wiped away by taking a different name.

Elyssa glanced over to the wagon where a very pregnant Boots stood waiting for the unloading to finish. She'd arrived about an hour earlier on another barge sent from Lebec, laden with gifts for both the Caelish queen and her future son-in-law. Boots's expression, for anyone who could read Crasii faces, was thunderous.

“What do you want with her?”

“Females are easier to manage,” Tryan said with a shrug.

“She's pregnant. What about her pups?”

“I'll drown them.”

Warlock slowed as he passed the suitcases up to the canines loading the wagon, determined to hear the rest of this conversation. Tryan's casual threat to murder his pups made his blood run cold.

Curse you, Declan Hawkes
, he thought.
I agreed to come here as your spy because you promised Boots and our pups would be safe, and we could still be together.

They hadn't been here half an hour and already that was looking unlikely. Worse, his pups might be killed, while Boots became the pet of a monster. Warlock glanced at Boots and then eyed the lake warily, judging the distance, wondering if he could grab her and make it to the water before they cut him down.

“But they're a matched set,” Elyssa said, crossing her arms petulantly. “They're only worth half as much if you split them up.”

“I don't need a personal servant. Besides, he's probably Jaxyn's spy,
anyway. Why else would he gift us with something as valuable as a matched breeding pair of canines?”

“He was trying to bribe us into leaving Herino. That's all.”

Tryan shook his head. It seemed wrong to Warlock that such a dark heart could reside in such a handsome and noble-seeming exterior. “You're too gullible, Lyssa.”

“I won't let you break them up. Besides, King Mathu gave them to me.”

“He gave them to
both
of us.”

“He gave
everything
to both of us. So I'm taking the Crasii. You already said you don't need them.”

“And that they're probably spies,” he reminded her.

“All the more reason to keep them together,” the immortal said. “Once she's had the pups, neither the female nor her mate will betray me for fear of what might happen to them.” Elyssa turned to Boots and stroked her head affectionately. “Isn't that right, Tabitha Belle?”

“To serve you is the reason I breathe, my lady,” Boots managed to mutter without betraying her fury.

Elyssa smiled, which had the unfortunate effect of making her chin disappear. “There! You see!”

Tryan grabbed the reins of the mount the grooms had brought him from the palace after he'd sent word their barge had docked. Gathering up the reins, he shook his head. “You're a fool, Lyssa.”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “They're Crasii, Try. It doesn't matter what Jaxyn's ordered them to do. They have no choice but to obey me. I'll just countermand his orders.”

“Only until someone other than you orders them to do something different.” Swinging up into the saddle, the immortal glanced out over the lake, back toward Glaeba, where another immortal plotted to take that country's throne, just as these two, with the rest of their power-hungry family, were plotting the overthrow of Caelum. “We're going to have to fight him and Diala eventually, you know. This continent isn't big enough for us
and
them.”