The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

might be our enemy in the last war or the next.” Mikka’s face flushed with exhilaration. Rossemeyer needed change and she intended to provide the impetus. At sixteen she was considered an adult, ready to face the challenges of her life alone.
    “Our soldiers are as tired as I am of the humdrum mercenary wars imposed on us by you, Uncle. Rossemeyer should conquer empires. Now we barely conquer boredom.”
    “Go to your room, Princess Rossemikka,” Lord Rumbellesth commanded.
    The quiet calm of his voice only hinted at the roaring anger underneath his words.
    “When I am assured of Erda’s freedom and well-being.”
    “You defend a Rover?”
    “I care for a friend.”
    “Never name one of those loathsome thieves as friends!” Rumbellesth’s face became splotched with high color. He reached for his ever-present cup of distilled spirits. “You will retire now.”
    “Release Erda,” Mikka called to the guards holding the old woman upright. The men looked first at her, then to the regent. After a moment’s hesitation, they obeyed her.
    For a moment it looked as if Uncle Rumbelly would explode. Mikka had purposely defied him in little ways for years—showing up late for audiences with prospective husbands, walking in the gardens without the protection of her governess, and pointedly refusing all drink except water when Rumbelly was noticeably drunk. Her open disregard for his orders looked to be the absolute end of his patience.
    “I have had enough of your disrespect. You need a husband to bed you and tame your unnatural inclinations. Name your husband.” Rumbellesth glared at Mikka through slitted eyes.
    Mikka felt the cold menace in that gaze. She knew she was in trouble, yet she persevered. “Guarantee Erda’s freedom and well-being.”
    Rumbellesth waved a hand at the Rover woman. The older of the two guards released Erda’s bonds and placed a polite hand under her elbow as he escorted her back out the side door. The ancient woman glanced over her shoulder toward Mikka as she was led away. Her blacker than black eyes seemed to warn her. Warn her of what?
    “She is safe. Now name your husband.” Rumbellesth took another swig of beta’arack. A little of the yellowish liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
    “I find all of the prospects lacking.” Mikka stared at the offensive drops of liquor.
    “You have been paraded before a dozen eligible young men. Choose one, tonight, for you shall be wed on the morrow.”
    “No.” Mikka suddenly felt cold. This time her uncle meant to marry her off without delay.
    “Then I must choose for you. So sayeth the law,” he pronounced to the assembled diners. “At the fourth hour after dawn you will be escorted to the chapel where you will be joined in perpetual wedlock to Lord Jhorge, my son.”
    Clammy-handed, sour-breathed Jhorge! A year younger than herself and still dependent on his father for the smallest decisions.
    “Never. I’ll never marry that mealymouthed, white-tailed hare.”
    “Oh, Mikka,” her mother wailed and twisted her heavy rings around and around her bony fingers. “What will it take to make you see reason? You must marry. Name any price, just so you marry Lord Jhorge.”
    Any price? She could ask for the kingdom’s wealth and her uncle would be honor bound to grant it. Instead, she requested the impossible.
    “I ask the privilege of Singing to my own babes.”
    “Singing? The Princess wishes to Sing? First witch’s remedies and now Songs! ” Lords and servitors alike murmured in awe as they made the flapping gesture against evil.
    Witches Sang their evil spells. Therefore, all women were forbidden to make music with their voices or other instruments in Rossemeyer.
    “Guards, remove the princess to the south tower.” Rumbellesth lowered his gaze from the soldiers standing at the door. His pale gray eyes seemed to bore directly into her private thoughts.
    The south tower.
    A dark and grim cell where she would be forgotten, unfed, unloved.
    Mikka fought the trembling of her chin.
    The south tower.
    Prisoners died there.
    “Your governess will be sent to see to your needs. You shall have no books, no companions, and the meanest of foodstuffs. And you will not leave that tower until you agree to marry. You, Princess Rossemikka, need a strong hand to tame your impulses and teach you to be a proper woman.”
    A heavy hand gripped her arm with cruel strength. She felt bruises forming under the iron fingers.
    “What