The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

vision cleared enough to see the outline of his black woolen cloak that covered him from chin to floor.
    “You could join the ritual on Sacred Isle, become one of the elite with power beyond reckoning,” Krej coaxed.
    “At what cost?” Brevelan chanted as she moved in front of Jaylor, shielding him from Krej’s compulsion with her armoring song.
    “We have no need of your bribes, Lord Krej.” Could his father-in-law heal this terrible warp in his magic? Jaylor fought the temptation to seek an end, any end, to this terrible weakness that either split his spells or spasmed his body. Concentrating on his words kept the involuntary muscle spasms at bay. But it took all of his energy. Another offer might prove too tempting to resist.
    “How did you get here?” Krej spoke sharply. “Have you traveled over a thousand miles from your mountain retreat in two weeks’ time, risking my unborn grandson? Or did you use the transport spell?”
    “That is none of your business.” Brevelan stood as tall and straight as her tiny form would allow. One hand rested on the bulge of her belly, rubbing the baby lightly in small circles. “Move aside.”
    Krej obeyed. Jaylor couldn’t be sure if he reacted to Brevelan’s compulsion or stood aside for his own reasons.
    “I will have the spell from you. You can’t hide that kind of magic long.”
    “Discover its source by yourself, as we did,” Jaylor spat. His muscles were obeying his thoughts again. He wanted to reach out with his hand and detain Krej while he questioned him more closely. How did he get into the University? What was the nature of the magic he wielded, in spite of the witchbane?
    “Don’t play innocent with me! Where did you find the spell to transport living beings?” A whiff of raw Tambootie drifted from his body.
    “In the most obvious and unlikely places,” Jaylor quipped. He and Brevelan were almost even with the door they sought. A few more steps and they would be within the armored privacy of the master’s suite.
    Krej’s addiction to Tambootie disturbed Jaylor. Need for the drug would make the lord unpredictable, violent even, in his quest for more and more of the sensation of soaring with dragons.
    Jaylor had been there. The temptation to merge his body, mind, and magic with the Tambootie grew to enormous proportions. For a long moment the urge to eat the drug was more than he could continue resisting.
    Krej’s hand drifted out from the folds of the all concealing cloak. His elegantly long fingers held a sprig of Tambootie.
    Jaylor’s hand reached involuntarily for the leaves.
    “Begone!” Brevelan screamed at her father.
    The cloaked figure vanished. Jaylor collapsed onto the stone floor, too weak to follow Krej; too shaken by the overpowering need to move any farther under his own power.

Chapter 16
     
    D awn brings an end to our ritual. The Tambootie smoke drifts away . My mind comes back to Coronnan and my duties. I must check on the princess. I have left her too long. Too often.
    But the rituals require my presence. We have not all been joined together ’round the same fire in many moons. So we meet again and again, storing up our spells and tightening the bonds that keep the coven alive. I am satiated with magic and sex.
    The power of the coven allowed me to send my rival’s image to encounter Jaylor and Brevelan. They were the source of the disturbance in the magic field tonight. I will have that spell from them. Then the coven can meet and dance our rituals ’round a Tambootie fire anytime we need to—or want to.
    Until then, I must stay close to the princess. Our long years of planning will come to naught if Darville suspects the truth. He must marry Rosie, as she is, and produce a child. A child who will rule the three kingdoms. A child whose every move is determined by me.
     
    The soft gray light of predawn filtered under the heavy curtains of Rosie’s room. There was not so much a lightening of the darkness, as a shift in the quality of the light. Darville watched the outlines of furniture emerge.
    His arm tightened about the woman who lay in his arms. She stirred. He pressed his damp cheek against her soft hair, lest she sees his tears upon awakening.
    If she did awake. In just moments Mikka would cease to be, and the cat who slept at his feet would emerge as Rosie.
    “I can’t watch. I’m sorry, but I can’t watch.” He closed his eyes in regret.
    “Shush, beloved. We will still be together. And I trust you to