The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

a kingdom straining toward stability and she was his barren queen. An heir to the throne would give the people of Coronnan the confidence to continue their quest for peace among themselves and with their neighboring kingdoms.
    Darville had acknowledged as heir his own bastard son, Glendon, over the claims of Rejiia de Draconis, daughter of his father’s cousin. Rejiia’s husband had petitioned the Council of Provinces time and again to proclaim his wife heir. But Rejiia had been absent from the capital for nearly a year. Rumor placed her variously in SeLenicca, in Hanassa, and in her home—locked up and beaten regularly by her jealous husband.
    Rejiia’s claim was tainted by her father’s involvement with a forbidden coven of Simurgh. Glendon might never be allowed to ascend the throne because his mother was an acknowledged witch and illegitimate as well. So far, Darville’s acceptance of the boy as heir had met with only minor opposition from the Council of Provinces. They still hoped the king would put aside his barren wife and make a new alliance to produce a better successor to the Coraurlia. Few outland kingdoms had come forward with prospective brides, but the lords themselves had dozens of noble daughters.
    The broken boulder that signaled the approach to the clearing appeared before him. Both Fred and Margit marched around the split rock in the direction the path seemed to follow. Darville stepped between the two pieces, on the left-hand side of the tree that had grown between the halves. Fred and Margit were immediately lost to sight.
    Twenty paces beyond the boulder, the path crossed a creek and died.
    “Look over there, Darville.” Mikka pointed through the trees.
    “I don’t see anything.” He squinted his eyes to peer closer in the direction she indicated.
    “The barrier to the clearing. There’s a big hole in it. We can walk right in without Brevelan opening it for us.”
    “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the barrier. “Something’s terribly wrong. We’ve got to get in there!”
     
    Rejiia left in a sweep of black skirts, the men following in her wake. The door slammed closed behind them. The click of the lock tolled Jack’s doom like a bell in the remaining silence.
    Darkness descended upon the cell until the torches further down the corridor filtered light through the bars that formed the wall. Once Jack’s eyes adjusted, he picked out the details of Katrina’s huddled form on the pallet opposite his. The single chain binding his left wrist to the ring in the wall was obscured by shadow.
    The building grumbled beneath his weary body. Every joint and muscle screamed at the least movement.
    “Oh, Jack, are you alive?” Katrina whispered. She crawled toward him, as far as her chain would reach. When she could get no closer, she stretched her free hand, as if to smooth his brow. Inches separated them. He couldn’t move closer to accept her gentle touch.
    “Not sure,” he breathed the words, careful not to jostle any part of his body.
    “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It was awful to watch. I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been to endure.”
    Her sympathy reached across the space between them, even if she herself couldn’t. A little of the pain lifted free of his mind.
    “Don’t try to imagine it. You’d hurt more than I want you to have to endure.” The thought of the girl’s plight suddenly pained his heart almost as much as the jailers’ blows hurt his body.
    “She didn’t have to kill your bird. I know he meant a great deal to you. That just added insult to injury so you’d be more vulnerable.”
    As soon as Jack was certain the others were out of earshot he flexed his now unbound right wrist to check for damage and grinned to himself in the shadowy twilight that settled in the cell. “Don’t be sorry for me. That wasn’t Corby.”
    “How can you tell?” Astonishment and the smallest measure of hope shone through her words.
    In Jack’s imagination she’d never looked or sounded more beautiful. Even knowing her face was marred with bruises didn’t diminish his gladness that his imprisonment was lightened by her presence.
    “That was a crow, bigger and no white spots on his head. My bird is a jackdaw. His white spots look like an old man’s bushy eyebrows. I sent Corby back to the dragons this morning. He shouldn’t be anywhere near the city.”
    “He obeys you so well?”
    “He is my familiar.” Jack shrugged