The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

been herself since the night your cat disappeared and you lost your memory.” Janataea made it sound as if Mama’s health was Rosie’s fault. “You must not disturb her rest.”
    This time Janataea’s grip on Rosie’s arm almost lifted her from the ground. She was propelled forward with a force Rosie couldn’t comprehend.
    An honor guard of heavily armed warriors awaited them at the gate to the outer courtyard.
    Rosie narrowed her eyes against the sunlight, blinking to adjust her vision from the darkness of the castle. The first lord in line offered Rosie his arm to escort her outside. Rosie pulled away from him with a spitting hiss. Only Janataea and Manuel were allowed to touch her. She would delight in a hug from Mama. But Queen Sousyam never tried.
    “Be polite, Your Highness,” Janataea corrected her. “Lord Aahmend-Rosse has earned the right, by his prowess on the field of battle, to escort you aboard.”
    Rosie obeyed the compulsion of her governess’ voice, shuddering only slightly under the man’s touch.
    “Rossemikka!” Manuel called out from the doorway. His pounding footsteps followed rapidly.
    Rosie resisted the tug of Aahmend-Rosse’s arm and turned to receive a hug from her brother.
    “I hate it that you have to sacrifice yourself like this, Sis,” Manuel panted. “But there is no other way. Uncle Rumbelly has mismanaged everything. I’ll be able to claim my crown in another six moons. You can come home to visit then, often and for however long you want to stay.” He clasped his sister tightly.
    She accepted his touch where others repelled her. Manuel alone had fought to help her regain many of the memories she had lost.
    “Prince Darville is vulnerable,” Janataea hissed. “You must marry him before he has a chance to organize his forces and confirm loyalties. His dragons might come back at any time. You must marry him before he has the opportunity to close his borders again with dragon magic. For the good of Rossemeyer, we must leave now.”
    “You’re right that the Prince of Coronnan needs us. But he might lose his civil war, even with our troops. You could be in grave danger, Rosie. I want you to be very careful and come home at the first hint of trouble.” Manuel clung to Rosie with a fierce possessiveness.
    “You are not yet King of Rossemeyer and cannot offer sanctuary to your sister once she’s married,” a gruffer male voice reminded them.
    “Uncle Rumbelly,” Manuel hissed. His inflection made the name a curse.
    “I am still regent and I decree that once married she will be a foreign queen and no longer welcome on our soil.” Their guardian staggered into the courtyard.
    Rosie couldn’t tell if he stumbled from pain or from drink. How did Rumbellesth, with his sloth and illness, command the respect and loyalty of the disciplined warriors who stood guard on the castle walls? Rossemeyer, by tradition, produced only whipcord lean, strong, and fierce survivors. War and conquest were everything in their desert culture. Yet still Rumbellesth governed.
    Hypocrisy ruled everywhere. Rosie expected her betrothed to be the same. Repulsion rose in her throat. She clung to Manuel and the safety of the familiar.
    “The tide will not wait.” Janataea urged her charge forward.
    Rosie’s hand lingered in her brother’s. She continued to look at him with fond regret, even as she was led to the docks and the ship that would carry her to her destiny.
     
    Brevelan paced the boundaries of her clearing, following the path of the sun, as she did every morning and every evening. The child within her stirred uneasily. He had been restless, upsetting her stomach since she had returned her consciousness to her body last night. Her baby didn’t like being left alone. How would he react when the time came for him to separate from her body at birth?
    She strode faster, working her way through the trees surrounding her clearing. The baby moved in agreement with her increased pace. She was seeking the path of last night’s intruder. He was seeking . . . seeking what? Whom?
    Someone, other than herself, had been in communication with the unborn child while she had vacated her body last night. But who?
    “Brevelan,” Jaylor called to her from the garden. “Where are you, Brevelan?” He seemed to enjoy grubbing about in the dirt since his magic had deserted him. The work had brought his heart almost back to normal—for a mundane. But a magician needed more.
    Brevelan was happy for