The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

work while answering him. Lace provided the income that kept the factory going. Lace was more important than any of the workers within the factory. If a lacemaker fell short of her daily quota, Brunix would dismiss her without a second thought. If Katrina displeased the owner or made him angry he would sell her—possibly back to King Simeon.
    “I was working and heard a noise,” she explained. “I knew about the thefts and investigated. The watchman was already there.”
    Brunix moved in front of her, blocking her light so she had to look up to him. “The watchman was supposed to be there. You were not.” He slapped her across the cheek, hard.
    Pain lanced through her eyes to her jaw. The blow set her ears ringing and brought involuntary tears to her eyes. His violence shocked her senses and numbed her thoughts as his lovemaking had not. Never before had he hit her. The world centered on her pain and his burning anger.
    “ ’Tis not your position to put yourself into danger. You are mine. My slave. My possession.” He backhanded her again across the face.
    She tasted blood. This new blow jerked her head back, twisting her neck awkwardly.
    “You are not to speak to any other male. You are not to venture below to the warehouse without my express permission.” His long fingers grabbed her shoulders and he shook her, hard, rattling her teeth. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”
    Katrina couldn’t force words past her clenched jaw and reeling senses.
    “Do you understand!” Brunix demanded again.
    “Y . . . y . . . yes,” she ground out.
    “Good. I will find another watchman. This one broke my rules when he spoke to you.” Brunix released her, seemingly oblivious to the blood that dripped from the corner of her mouth and the bruises forming on her cheek.
    Katrina touched the back of her hand to the blood on her face, careful not to stain her fingers which might transfer blood to the nearly completed shawl. She had to think, had to overcome the shock that closed down her senses.
    Brunix couldn’t dismiss Jack. She needed the outland magician to decipher the runes. He was the only person who could help her bring about King Simeon’s downfall.
    “Before the evening meal, you will move all of your things into my quarters. I am tired of waiting for you. Henceforth, you live with me, eat with me, and sleep with me. I can make you feel pain. You will respond to me, if only in pain. Only one-quarter of my blood is Rover. I have observed their prohibition against rape more than one quarter of my time with you. I would take you now, but I have business that will not wait. This apartment and the workroom are the only places you have permission to be.” Brunix stalked to the door of his apartment. “Do you understand, Katrina?”
    “Do I have the right to a sun break?” she asked calmly, though her heart beat so loud and fast she could barely hear her own words. She couldn’t allow him to see the panic rising to choke her.
    “You will take your sun break with me. I allow you outside the building only because the law requires I must and a complaint from one of your friends would bring me ruinous fines.” He left her alone, slamming the door behind him. A heartbeat later, the lock clicked, sealing her inside.
     
    “I can’t read runes,” Jack muttered to himself. “I wasn’t at the University long enough to learn that skill. Where would I find runes, if I could read them?” He trekked back across the bridge into Queen’s City. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the ghost of Tattia Kaantille had vanished once her message had been passed along to him.
    His growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since last night’s supper, and the day was half gone. He must return to the factory in time to share supper with the other male employees—after the women had eaten and retired safely to their dormitory. He had almost no chance of seeing Katrina before midnight.
    The official with the tall black hat, who had presided over the funeral brushed, past Jack. His black robes flapped in the wind, reminding Jack once more of a giant jackdaw. The flowing sleeves of the black robe caught briefly on Jack’s belt buckle. As the man tugged the fabric free with a deep frown of disapproval for Jack, the black embroidery on the black robe caught the magician’s eye. Straight lines and slashes jumped into his perspective.
    A primitive form of writing.
    Runes!
    This was no government clerk or judge, but a