Free The Palace of Impossible Dreams by Jennifer Fallon

Boots wasn’t speaking to him.
    Not that he really blamed her. Since being rushed from the security of Hidden Valley without much more than a sketchy explanation about joining her mate, Boots had found herself enslaved, packed off to Caelum as one-half of a breeding pair, and spying for the Cabal of the Tarot.
    All without anybody actually stopping to ask her what
she
wanted.
    And then, just to make things really interesting, she was due to give birth at any moment. Her pups, far from being safe, were now at the mercy of a fickle immortal who might decide, at any moment, that she no longer wanted the inconvenience of a breeding female.
    Warlock sympathised with her plight, but wished she’d stop blaming him for it. The Cabal of the Tarot had placed them in danger, and Boots had just as willingly joined their cause as he had. In fact, she’d probably accepted their aid even
more
willingly than he had.
    Their current predicament was the cost of that aid. Warlock wished she’d accept that and stop cursing him.
    And things could have gone much worse for them, given their circumstances. They were well fed and housed in decent quarters in the basement of the palace with the almost unheard-of luxury of a room of their own. With Boots so close to her confinement, Elyssa had let her off everything but the most basic duties, and she treated them more kindly than any master he’d had since Lord Ordry—although he doubted the immortal was doing so out of any innate goodness; Elyssa was just proving a point to her brother.
    Was she trying to ensure the loyalty of her Crasii?
    It seemed a futile thing to attempt, really. Either the Crasii were magically compelled to obey or they weren’t. There didn’t seem much point to Warlock, to attempt to make them
more
loyal. Perhaps it was proof the immortals were just as ego-driven as any self-aware creature. Warlock had seen it many times among the racing dogs Lord Ordry bred on the estate where Warlock had served before his imprisonment: even when warned away from a savage beast, there was always someone who stepped forward, hand outstretched, convinced they alone could inspire such trust in a wild animal that it would override the creature’s instincts.
    He’d seen many men almost get their hand bitten off, believing that.
    Fickle, mercurial and given to unexpected outbursts of temper, Elyssa nonetheless understood the value of love, if her twisted version of it could be called that. The Crasii were magically compelled to obey all the suzerain. She knew that as well as they did. But she lived in close proximity to a half-dozen other immortals, any of whom had the power to countermand her orders.
    So Elyssa treated her Crasii like beloved pets, probably because—like the men who believed they wouldn’t get bitten—she hoped it meant they would stay on her side, no matter what.
    It was Boots who pointed out this harsh reality to Warlock, the day they’d arrived and been shown their quarters.
    â€œThis isn’t so bad,” Warlock had remarked, looking around the clean, dry—albeit quite small—room, they’d been informed was their new home.
    â€œFor slaves,” Boots said unhappily.
    â€œIt could be worse, Boots,” he said, closing the door on the feline who’d shown them the way from the slaves’ common room on the floor above.
    â€œMy name is Tabitha,” she corrected. “And I don’t see how it could be any worse.”
    â€œTryan could have taken you.”
    She turned on him furiously. “Tryan wouldn’t have even known I’m alive,
Cecil
, if you hadn’t promised Declan Hawkes you’d be his willing lap dog if only you had your mate and your precious pups by your side.”
    â€œShh! Someone might hear you!”
    â€œIn this place?” she asked, looking around. “Tides, the walls must be two feet thick. It’s like a dungeon in here, which is kind of