The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

could show her true feelings ever again.
    “If I can’t have your body, Katrina Kaantille, I will have your mind and your talents.” Brunix pounded his fist into the mattress beside her naked body.
    A faint glimmer of hope sprang to life deep in her heart. She didn’t dare let it flare too high.
    “That lace shawl you wear, the one your mother made for the queen . . . the one the king identified you by.”
    Katrina nodded her acknowledgment. He’d studied the piece of lace thoroughly, even tried draping it erotically around her body to evoke something within her. He couldn’t know that this unique piece of lace was all that she had left of her mother. Wearing it kept her keenly aware of all that she had lost.
    “You will make a pattern from this lace. A pattern that is difficult to duplicate. I will not have my business rivals stealing the design.”
    She didn’t tell him his business rivals already knew about the shawl and offered her freedom in exchange for it.
    “Will . . . will you consider my obligation to service you in bed canceled?” She couldn’t look him in the eye.
    “The pattern will postpone your obligation to me. You have until you finish making a sample shawl to . . . develop some enthusiasm for me.”
    “The pillow I use in the factory is engaged with another pattern. The homespun cover is too rough for the fine silk M’ma used for the shawl.”
    “You will use the pillow in my office.”
    Excitement flared deep within Katrina. A real pillow, covered in soft velvet, stuffed with unspun wool. And slender bobbins that clicked and sang as she worked. Some of those bobbins had been made for her. Just to handle them again was a reward beyond her daily hopes for escape from this man and his grim factory.
    “Light? The workroom is too dark to see a fine pattern. And pins? They must be delicate, sharp, and free of rust.”
    Brunix narrowed his eyes as he gazed at her with longing and speculation. He nodded briefly. “If I am pleased with the design, if it makes me as much profit as I think it will, you may consider the pillow and the bobbins yours. The light and the pins I will investigate. White paint on the walls perhaps.”
    “Oh!” Katrina gaped at him in surprise and delight.
    “So you do have passion within you, my dear. Passion for lace, true lace instead of the rudimentary garbage the others turn out. We’ll see if we can translate that enthusiasm into gratitude to me.” He grabbed her roughly by and arm, pulling her to stand close to him. He pressed the full length of his naked body against her as he ground his mouth over her lips in a cruel and possessive kiss. “Remember, Katrina Kaantille, you and your work belong to me, body and soul. And I will never let you go.”
     
    Queen Miranda lies near death. Her court is in chaos. The princess hides in her suite. Dour councillors and advisers cower in the lesser audience chamber, wringing their hands in panic. In Coronnan, the nobles would seize control and continue to govern with little or no interruption. Lucky for King Simeon that in SeLenicca a royal wish is absolute law.
    Miranda’s council doesn’t know how to act, only advise and hinder decisive action as being too rash. Miranda hasn’t had time to revoke her Edict of Joint Monarchy. Simeon is now in position to seize the throne for himself, without Miranda’s dithering. Once in control, he can allow Miranda to die and remain king without passing the crown to Princess Jaranda.
    The coven, through Simeon, is now in total control of one of the Three Kingdoms. My agents move into place. Soon the entire continent will be mine—except for Hanassa. No one can rule that haven of outlaws, rogues, and thieves. And Rovers.
    An alien presence brought Jaylor to full wakefulness. No light of moon or stars crept through the smoke hole, around the shutter or beneath the door. Yet he could clearly see every object in the crowded cottage. Moving only his eyes, all his magical senses alert, he surveyed his home seeking the thing that had startled him out of a sound sleep.
    A ball of witchlight glowed at the foot of the bed he shared with Brevelan.
    Instinctively he raised armor around his sons sleeping in the loft. The ball didn’t move or flicker. Jaylor risked a little probe into the light. His mental arrow encountered no resistance, no menace, nothing. The light just hung there, waiting.
    Waiting for what?
    Carefully Jaylor swung his legs over the side of the bed. The ball of light