The Palace of Impossible Dreams by Jennifer Fallon Page A

expectations.”
    â€œYou keep calling it a merger. Shouldn’t you think of it as a marriage?”
    â€œYes, well . . . you see that’s where we ran into trouble. I’m not good around women . . .”
    â€œI had noticed that.”
    He threw his hands up helplessly. “It’s not that I don’t
like
them. Tides, I just don’t know what to
say.
Or
do.
And . . . and then parts of me start reacting on their own, as if I have another brain below my belt that doesn’t listen to a word the one above it is saying, and I get embarrassed, and I start to stammer . . .”
    â€œWhat happened?” Arkady asked, guessing they were getting to the crux of the story.
    He sighed heavily. “The first time they left me alone with Olegra, I was so nervous I threw up in her lap.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œOh, indeed.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “You have no idea the trouble my anxiety caused. The insult to the Padura family nearly brought about a trade war, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Senestra for centuries. It was only by my father refunding a sizable chunk of the dowry and promising that I would arrive at the wedding—which is scheduled a few days after our return from Torlenia, by the way—a ‘real man,’ that he was able to placate Olegra’s family.”
    Arkady nodded in understanding. “Hence the beatings by the crew and your willingness to play along with my subterfuge.”
    He nodded. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Kady. Your suggestion that I claim a woman for my own use—however selfishly motivated—has convinced everyone I’m now a
real
man. I find that vaguely disturbing, actually.”
    â€œI find it a great deal more than
vaguely
disturbing,” Arkady said. “Still, I shouldn’t complain, given how I’ve benefited from it. How long before we reach Senestra?”
    â€œThe captain says less than a week.”
    â€œAnd then you’re getting married?”
    He nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep the contents of my stomach down until
after
the ceremony.”
    She shook her head in wonder. “How does an educated, wealthy, well-mannered, good-looking young man get to be your age, in a society that has female human slaves catering to his every whim, and still be a virgin?”
    Cydne blushed crimson. “I never said . . .”
    â€œYou didn’t have to. I was there for your first time, remember?”
    He glared at her, not so drunk that he had forgotten his place—or Arkady’s—in the general scheme of things. “It is bad enough that you pity me, slave. I will not tolerate you scorning me as well.”
    â€œI didn’t mean to—”
    â€œSay not another word,” Cydne warned. “I fear I have said too much and you most certainly
have
said enough.” He lay down on the bunk, quite deliberately turning his back to her. “Please extinguish the lamps before you go to sleep.”
    He pulled the covers up, not bothering to take off his boots or his vomit-stained shirt, too embarrassed, or too shy, perhaps, to face her, now he knew she’d guessed his deepest and most humiliating secret.
    Arkady stared at his back for a time, wondering if he really did mean to go to sleep in that state, until his soft snores filled the cabin. With a sigh, and more sympathy than she ever thought she would feel for a man who called himself her master, she slipped off the table and blew out the candles by the door.
    In the darkness, she felt her way back to the hard, unrelenting surface of the examination table where she stretched out, wedged herself against the wall to prevent falling out of bed while she slept, and finally, after an interminable time, drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 9
    â€œI miss Declan Hawkes.”
    Queen Kylia of Glaeba looked up from the table where she was lying,