The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

else. Perhaps her empathic abilities made her so easy to read. Or was it the intimate entwining they had experienced while he was in the Tambootie-induced coma?
    She was embarrassed, puzzled, pleased, and appalled, all at the same time. He grinned again, felt his body stretch all over, including his manhood, and didn’t bother to suppress the feeling.
    Yesterday he had flown with dragons. Today he knew more about magic, and himself, than ever before. He was willing to bet even old Nimbulan didn’t know what Jaylor knew now. Yesterday he had feared the power Brevelan had over his mind and body. Today knowledge had wiped away the fear.
    But before he could explore that thought, turn it into action, there was a rogue to tend to.
    For the safety of the kingdom and the well-being of the beloved dragons, Krej had to be removed from power—temporal and magical. Jaylor’s Tambootie-induced vision of Krej screaming at his servants beside the glass statue of Shayla had ended all doubt of the rogue’s true identity. Sooner or later the all-powerful lord would slip and expose his magical abilities. Jaylor intended to be present with other reliable witnesses when that happened.
    “Someone comes.” Brevelan raised her head from the pot of stewing grains she stirred. She refused to meet his eyes, or Darville’s, for that matter. Her head remained lowered as she hastily exited. In a few moments, her thoughts would either open or close the path for the visitor.
    “How does she know that?” the prince asked. He had been pacing the room, anxious for their simple meal to be finished so they could continue their pursuit of his cousin.
    Restless energy had infused the prince since their early rising. Jaylor felt it pulsating against his own aura. He resisted the urge to pace alongside his friend.
    “This clearing is in a focus of magic.” He eased a soothing timbre into his voice. “It attunes itself to each of its tenants in turn.”
    Darville responded to the tiny spell of his voice and settled on the rickety three-legged stool beside the hearth.
    “Don’t manipulate me with your magic!” he demanded even as he fought the lethargy Jaylor imposed upon him.
    Surprised he would notice, Jaylor drew back the slight control. He shouldn’t be surprised. Last night Darville had been as active a participant as he and Brevelan. Henceforth the three were linked in a way he hadn’t yet explored.
    He continued with his tale. Darville needed to know what was involved with Brevelan and the clearing. His future might depend on that information.
    “For three hundred years this small glade has protected, sheltered, and fed special witchwomen.” Jaylor posted himself near the crack in the door to observe Brevelan’s return, with or without company. “I believe Myrilandel was the first.”
    “Who?” Darville was only mildly interested. His arms and legs still twitched but his mind was calmer.
    “Nimbulan’s wife. He had to exile her, along with the other rogues, when he established dragon magic. But he provided for her and their children. That is why the cot is oversized, so he would have a place to sleep when he visited. That is why the hut wouldn’t burn completely, only the thatch that has been renewed since he threw the protective spells.”
    “Explain this ‘focus’ of magic. Can it be used against Krej?” Darville asked. “I thought dragons were the source of magic, and they are dwindling. With Shayla’s enchantment there shouldn’t be much of anything left.”
    “For conventional magic. Nimbulan was what we call a rogue, or a solitary, long before he tapped the power of the dragons and the Tambootie, which could make magic communal. Ask yourself, what was his source of power? How did he entice the first dragons and enslave them to this kingdom and your royal line!”
    “Maevra is near to birthing. You must come now. She needs you.” A strange voice came from the edge of the trees.
    “Yes, of course. Just let me gather my things,” Brevelan replied.
    “She can’t go alone.” Darville whispered. “Krej may have sent these women to entice her to a witch-burning.”
    The prince’s anxiety wound through Jaylor, becoming his own.
    “You can’t be seen there. Krej’s spies will report your restoration. They don’t trust me either.”
    The door latch rattled in warning.
    “I’ll be but a minute.” Brevelan eased through a narrow opening. It was pushed wider by her golden wolf. She raised her eyes in