The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

questions.
    “Very good, Katrina. You’re learning respect. As a reward, I’ll tell you about your P’pa. Your brave and smart P’pa who ruined me and himself with his investments.” The king rose and sauntered around to the front of his desk. There he perched on the edge of the furniture, his thick and powerful legs thrust out in front of him, arms crossed on his chest in mocking imitation of her own stance.
    Shoulders hunched, back curved, Katrina tried to huddle deeper into her arms. The solid presence of the guards prevented her from backing up to put more distance between herself and the king’s penetrating gaze. She wondered if this acknowledged sorcerer saw through her vest and skirt, through her shift to her naked body. Lumbird bumps rose on her arms and chest. Beneath a loose breast band, her nipples tightened into yet more bumps. A ripple of fear and disgust added to her discomfort.
    “The bad news first. Your esteemed P’pa has sold himself to the slave ships.” Mocking amusement touched King Simeon’s lips but didn’t light his eyes. “In return for his five years of servitude, Fraanken Kaantille demanded I forgive his debts and allow you to inherit the house. He claimed you could earn enough to maintain yourself and the house by renting out the upper rooms. Of course he forgot that under the ancient laws of SeLenicca, the daughter of a slave—freeborn or not—has no rights and can possess nothing, least of all a valuable house in the middle of a respectable neighborhood.”
    “You can’t turn me out!” she protested.
    Cold. So very cold. The room, her body, the king’s smile. Everything was so cold.
    “Quiet, or I’ll increase his indenture to seven years in the mines. Your P’pa might survive five years in my galleys. But no one survives the mines. No one! Do you hear?” the king shouted.
    Katrina nodded, too frightened to do more. The tin weasel seemed to raise a lip to bare more teeth. She stared at it in shock rather than look at her king.
    “Now then, the good news.” King Simeon smiled in abrupt and capricious change of mood. He thrust himself upright from his perch on the desk and took two steps closer.
    She didn’t like his tone. Didn’t trust his volatile temper. She feared the way he looked at her.
    “Leave us.” He nodded to the guards.
    Behind her, Katrina heard the door slide open, footsteps retreated, and the door whispered shut again. She was alone with the most feared man in the Three Kingdoms.
    “My dear, I have a proposition for you.” King Simeon walked around her, his eyes appraised her front and back, from her two plaits of blond hair to the hem of her skirt. “Only you can save your father. Indeed, I’m willing to forgive his debts and return him to a place of honor in the mercantile community. In return, all I ask is a favor from you.”
    She didn’t dare ask the nature of that favor. Rumors followed this man. Rumors of black sorcery and sacrifices to a foreign and bloodthirsty god. No one dared repeat those rumors to Queen Miranda. According to Tattia, the hereditary ruler of SeLenicca was so besotted with her outland husband she wouldn’t have listened to them anyway. She hadn’t listened to her advisers when she granted Simeon all the rank and authority of a king.
    Could Simeon have thrown a magic spell on his wife to force her to give him all her rights and power?
    “Only you can grant me this favor, Katrina. Think of it, your beloved P’pa restored to his home and his fortune, your sister Maaben returned to the loving arms of her family. You can achieve this for them.” He toyed with the lacing on her shift, tugging playfully until the neckline started to gape open; then he released the tie to finger the buttons on her vest.
    “H . . . how?”
    “My coven has need of a willing virgin.” He uncrossed her protective arms with gentle hands and opened her vest with a swift movement she barely saw. “I presume you are still a virgin?” One mocking eyebrow reached nearly to his full head of red hair.
    Her jaw dropped, aghast at the immodesty of his question and his actions.
    “I see by your reaction that you are untouched, by your P’pa or any other man. Good. Good.” His finger traced the line of her shift, opening it until her undergarment was revealed. His finger stopped on the tip of her breast.
    How could he imply such a horrible thing? P’pa was good and kind and honorable. He would never do . . . do that to her. But the king