The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

an illegitimate birth. If they did, they would have to look at witchwoman Brevelan as next heir. If they could find her. Krej acknowledged her as his eldest. If the Council insists on a male, they would look to Brevelan’s oldest son, Glendon—likely a magician born and bred. She never claimed Darville to be the father. We all know he is. Descended from two royal lines, her son has the strongest blood claim to the throne—if the people of Coronnan could put aside their prejudice against magic.
    The coven is so close, and yet so far, from achieving domination of the Three Kingdoms. I have waited years for events to move themselves. My patience is at an end. I must stir some mischief to move events forward.

Chapter 14
     
    M id-afternoon brought a thinning of spring clouds. All of the lacemakers gratefully grabbed their cloaks and trooped onto the narrow walkway that separated the factory from the river. Katrina wasn’t sure where or when the custom of a sun break had begun, but it was now a time-honored tradition. Fines for denying workers their right to an hour of sunlight in the middle of the day—even when it was storming—could financially ruin an employer. Too bad she spent most of the time waiting in line to use the necessary.
    The men who worked in the factory warehouse would have their sun break after the women returned to the workroom.
    Katrina looked askance at the welcome sun. Neeles Brunix did not always join his lacemakers on the walkway. A break in the clouds almost guaranteed his presence. He was here today, ahead of the women. His long body leaning against the sand-brick wall of the factory, almost the same color as his hair, he stared at the rushing river. No flicker of his dark, hooded eyes acknowledged the presence of his employees until Katrina appeared at the end of the line. As soon as she threw back her hood and raised her face to the sun, Neeles Brunix stood straight and his eyes sparked with unconcealed desire.
    The younger lacemakers scurried out of his way, not willing to have those intense eyes rest on their bodies.
    “I hear you treated the new girl very harshly this morning.” Brunix appeared at Katrina’s side before she had a chance to gather her courage and take a deep breath.
    “You make me responsible for her training. Therefore I am also responsible for her mistakes and dirty lace.” She looked at the river rushing past the levee. It smelled clean today, refreshed by snow melting in the hills. An unwelcome urge to follow her mother in the water’s endless journey to the sea gripped her. To end the struggle. To know peace.
    She didn’t want peace. She wanted to avenge the wrongs done to her and her family by King Simeon and a dark-eyed magician boy. In her mind the magician looked very much like a younger Neeles Brunix.
    “I would free you from slavery if you would add certain other responsibilities to your . . . work.” His eyes opened as they skimmed her cloaked body.
    Did he know she made certain her clothing was too large for her and that she bound her full bosom extra tight to disguise her figure from his gaze?
    Just then, Taalia sauntered by, her wrap drooping on her shoulder to reveal the deep neckline of her bodice. Her heavy breasts swelled above the white cloth. A dusky shadow peeked out from the skimpy confines of her clothing in blatant invitation to Brunix. She rotated her hips as she walked, making little thrusting movements with her pelvis.
    Katrina turned away, embarrassed.
    Brunix never took his eyes off Katrina.
    “This is the only additional responsibility I ask.” Katrina thrust the new pattern under his nose so he couldn’t ignore it. “I want to draw new patterns.”
    “I have no need of new designs. I have all of the patterns you inherited and I bought. I do need you to warm my bed,” he stated as he took the pattern from her and examined the flowing lines of the floral motif.
    “No.” Katrina stood her ground, wishing she could turn him into a living torch like the witches of legend.
    “I own you, Katrina Kaantille, just as I own your inheritance. I could order you to submit.”
    “But you prefer your women willing, just like King Simeon.”
    Brunix blanched at her comparison.
    “I am not willing.”
    “Compromise!” Iza hissed as she pushed her frail body between them. “The pattern is good and it is unique. You will make money from it, Brunix.”
    “It is also complex. Only the most skilled lacemaker could work it. I’m not