The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

The dragons will never return once I am at the center of the star.
     
    “Before you execute my timid little cat,” Darville stated evenly, glowering at each of the twelve lords in the circular room, “define the word witch.” Only Krej held his glance. All of the others looked away in embarrassment.
    Darville was confident they wouldn’t find his purring friend where she hid beneath his chair. The gentle rumble erupting from her throat was so low, only he could hear it. After the scene in the University tunnel last night, he was certain that Mica was singing an invisibility spell.
    Hers wasn’t the only spell in the room. A master magician sat behind and slightly to the right of each lord, except Darville. Some of them, at least, were probably throwing armoring spells around themselves and their lords. Why did they feel they needed the protection? They were all working toward the same end. Weren’t they?
    “Your Grace.” Lord Andrall cleared his throat. “I was always taught that a magician throws magic for the good of the country, and a witch spins magic for her own personal interests and no other.”
    “The way I saw the incident Lord Krej has described to you, if there was any magic worked, it was done on my behalf.” Darville speared Lord Krej with his gaze. “That means my cat is a magician and not a witch. Judgment of her actions is therefore subject to the Commune and not the Council.” Darville stood to dismiss the meeting. He wasn’t yet allowed to sit on the empty dragon throne or wear the Coraurlia, the glass dragon crown that sat in the center of the round table, but he meant to reestablish the same dignity and authority granted to the king.
    Before the war with SeLenicca, leather armchairs and rich stained glass lent an aura of calm dignity to the room. Now the strain evident on the men’s faces and their tense posture dominated the atmosphere. Conducting a war without one clear leader, while governing a country facing famine, was taking its toll on all of them. No decision was ever allowed to stand without endless modifications.
    Four of the twelve provinces had already withdrawn from Coronnan and sided with the enemy SeLennica because of the lack of leadership. Apparently, King Simeon’s flirtation with magic seemed safer than living with a fragmented governing Council.
    Stargods! He’d wasted enough time with his infection and dithering over details. He had to cut through the selfish arguing of these men. Appeasement never accomplished anything.
    “Your Grace?” Lord Andrall requested his attention in a tone of voice so meek it seemed an apology. “We seek to protect you. Your ordeal last winter placed a great strain on all of us. When we hear reports of your . . . ah . . . strange behavior,” his glance slid to Marnak, “well, Your Highness, we fear that association with any magic will cause you to revert.”
    Darville stared at his longtime champion. Andrall and his province of Nunio had always, always, been loyal to Darville’s family; they were related on the distaff line. The lord of the northernmost province refused to meet his glance.
    “Baamin has stated time and time again that my blood is clean of magic. The only way I can revert now is if a spell is deliberately thrown for that purpose. The Senior Magician could also protect me from such a spell, if he were allowed his lawful place in this Council as my adviser.”
    “But he is a magician, Your Grace, out to protect his own kind. Of course he will say what he thinks we want to hear rather than the truth,” Jonnias parroted a longstanding justification.
    “Or perhaps you want me to be vulnerable to such a spell from your own magicians.” Darville leaned forward as if to accuse Jonnias of such heinous behavior. “A rogue who I believe sits among us and commands the loyalty of some of you when it rightfully belongs to me, could also cause me to revert. Is that what you want?”
    “Never!” Jonnias sat back, puffing out his fat belly and turning up his nose at such an accusation.
    “Why not banish Lord Krej from the Council and leave me and mine alone?” Darville lifted a casual eyebrow. Only the most rigid self-control kept his voice normal.
    “Lord Krej has been punished enough without proof that he is indeed the rogue magician of your imagining,” Marnak the Younger defended his father-in-law. Marnak the Elder remained silently neutral.
    “How has Lord Krej been punished? He is still Lord of Faciar. He