The Palace of Impossible Dreams Read Online Free Page B

because in addition to the immortal blood he’d inherited from Shalimar through his mother, he’d inherited even more from his unknown father. That tiny fraction more—that difference between being half-immortal or five-eighths—meant he might have lived and eventually died in ignorance . . . or been exposed to the elemental forces that awakened his potential.
    Fire. The essence of the Tide Star itself.
    Worse, he could wield the Tide, could touch it on a level he was certain concerned even Maralyce. Assuming he’d inherited
that
ability from his father too, then his father was probably one of the Tide Lords.
That
narrowed down the candidates to just seven men: Tryan, Lukys, Kentravyon, Pellys, Brynden, Jaxyn and Cayal, the Immortal Prince.
    Maralyce had told him some of this over the past few weeks. Most of it he’d worked out for himself, because she didn’t seem all that inclined to help. There was no sense of family or comradeship among the immortals. You sank or swam on the Tide as you could. You found your own way, just as the others had.
    It was common for pupils to turn on their masters, apparently. As far as Declan could tell, no immortal was going to teach another, potentially more powerful immortal, a single thing more than they absolutely had to.
    Which left this new immortal with one burning question . . .
    What was he going to do with the rest of his life? His endless,
endless
life . . .
    Declan sat up abruptly, not yet ready to contemplate the future stretching before him. He would live for today, for now . . .
    And let the future take care of itself.
    A shadow moving across the yard caught his eye. He tossed the blanketfrom his pallet over Desean, who needed protection from the cold far more than Declan did, and rose to his feet. He didn’t need to wonder who owned the shadow. Now he was immortal, he could sense any other being in the vicinity linked to the Tide.
    â€œCan’t sleep?” he called after Maralyce, his breath frosting in the cold rain, as she headed toward the entrance of the mine. She was carrying a bag of tools and a pick, so he guessed she was planning to be gone for a while.
    â€œSick of all these visitors, more like it.” She stopped, turning to face him, squinting at him in the pre-dawn light as he crossed the yard to stand before her, unconcerned by the drizzle. Rain no longer bothered him, nor the cold. His body adjusted itself now, preserving his natural body heat the same way it had made the scratches on his face disappear. That was the truth of immortality—perpetual healing.
    â€œWhat about Shalimar?”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œYou said he needed your help. He’s been getting worse for days now.”
    She shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”
    â€œHe’s your
son
, Maralyce. You’re not just going to abandon him to a horrible death, are you, just because you’re annoyed at having to put up with a few houseguests?”
    Maralyce looked away. Had it been anybody else, Declan might have thought it was guilt making her unable to meet his eyes. But she was immortal and he doubted guilt was an emotion that bothered any of them overly much, after a while.
    â€œWhat do I need to do then?” he asked with a sigh, when he realised appealing to her better nature wasn’t likely to work.
    â€œKeep him well supplied with mead,” Maralyce said. “That should ease his pain until he dies.”
    His great-grandmother’s callous instructions were designed purely to aggravate him, Declan suspected. “And how long will that be? A day? A week? A month?”
    Her eyes narrowed as she squinted at him in the gloom. “You can feel the Tide now, Declan. You tell me.”
    That was the first time she had acknowledged it openly. He wondered why she’d waited until now—when she was planning to abandon them—to mention his ability to touch the