The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

for you. Sitting there, you look very like a queen. Do you want to be our queen?” He fumbled in his pockets and withdrew a small square of glass.
    As he peered more closely at her dress and the chair, his eyes were enlarged. Rosie could see the rheumy fatigue in them.
    “What is that glass?” A glimmer of curiosity sparked through of Rosie’s misery.
    “An aid, my dear. These old eyes don’t see very well anymore. With it, I can see the details of your gown much better. Such a wonderful color on you.”
    “I don’t much care what I wear. But I did choose this fabric. I like the feel of it.” Rosie ran her free hand along the nap of the brocade.
    “An excellent choice.” Baamin straightened in his chair and looked at her levelly.
    Rosie did her best to push herself back into the recesses of the soft pads of her chair. She knew that look. This pleasant old man was going to tell her something she wouldn’t like.
    “Princess, you were expecting punishment. Will you tell me why?”
    She looked away from him, into the brightness of the fire. Punishment was expected, endured, not spoken of or protested. Yet . . . yet she didn’t want to be thrown in the river, or shut into a lightless tower room, or deprived of food.
    “My uncle disapproves of everything I do.”
    “Your Uncle Rumbellesth, the Regent of Rossemeyer?”
    She nodded. “He says I am defiant. Only an abomination would dare do the things I do.”
    “And what do you do that he believes so awful?”
    “I . . . I . . . um . . . Master Baamin, I don’t know. I don’t remember doing any of the things he proclaims illegal!” she wailed.
     
    He disappeared! In the middle of the opening ritual he vanished from the coven’s protected shrine.
    We have sought that spell for countless generations. Always we have failed. Every ritual breaks down, or the subject dies.
    My rival performed that little feat just to make my bid for power seem trivial. He did it to seek the focus himself. He will claim the succession by right of birth. I cannot allow that. She was my mother as well as his. I will dissolve the coven before I allow him to take Maman’s place. I will destroy him and form a new eight-pointed star.
    Then I will take control of Coronnan, and Rossemeyer, and SeLenicca. No more will my people be exiled. No more will we be a fragmented race.
    If I must take Tambootie to succeed, I will. I am powerful enough to control the addiction. My rival believes he has mastered the weed. I know he has not.
     
    “I was prepared to die when I unraveled your spell, Krej. Even hoped I would, because I could imagine nothing greater in my lifetime than saving the dragon nimbus of Coronnan. Indeed, I was almost disappointed when I woke up.” Jaylor gulped back the emotion that thickened his throat.
    “Brevelan saved me. I’m told her song of healing was the most beautiful music ever heard in our kingdom. That’s what she has given me. More than life, more than magic. Your daughter has shown me the beauty of life, the beauty of her spirit. I must do everything in my power to save her and the child she carries.”
    “A bit maudlin, Jaylor.” Krej sniffed in disdain. “However, you will make a better staff than any mere piece of wood because you won’t resist the flow. You might even help shape it. Let’s get to work.”
    Jaylor peered closer at the red-haired lord. If he didn’t know the man so well, he might just think Krej was touched with emotion, too.
    That thought vanished with the change of expression on Krej’s face as he nibbled on the succulent leaves Yaakke had given him. His bites were small, as if he were only consuming the leaves as a necessary prelude to working magic. But his eyes took on the light of a fanatic, eagerly anticipating the heights to which the drug would take him. The second leaf disappeared into Krej’s mouth in one eager gulp.
    “I need more. There weren’t enough essential oils to combat the witchbane.” His pupils dilated and began to glaze.
    Yaakke squinted at Krej in the way Baamin had taught all of his students to focus magic sight. “Your aura nearly fills this room. You’ve had enough,” the boy pronounced. “Any more and you won’t be able to concentrate. You might kill Brevelan.”
    “You dare contradict me? Me!” Krej roared. He lifted his hand to strike the boy.
    Yaakke stood firm.
    “Are you feeding magic, or are you feeding your craving?” Jaylor asked. “I followed you into a Tambootie trance once.