The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

child. Dangerous work that only you can accomplish. We will help you in the coming battle. A terrible battle that may cost you the one you love. Only you can save him, but your talent will be useless.)
     
    Myri fingered the wide skirt of the new gown that molded tightly to her breasts and waist, then drifted loosely around her hips and legs. She’d chosen the fabric from Karry’s store because it was the same color as Nimbulan’s eyes; the soft green of new oak leaves. She’d memorized every nuance of his eyes, fearful of losing him. The dragons had warned her.
    “Since you are heading back to Lord Quinnault’s stronghold, you could wait and have a real priest bless your marriage there.” Karry smiled hugely as she fussed with the hem of Myri’s new dress. “Not that I want to miss this celebration.”
    Amaranth played hiding games with the hem where Karry lifted it slightly to finish the last few stitches.
    “I want Myri and the children to have the protection of my name and rank before we set out on a long journey,” Nimbulan insisted. He leaned against the bar of the temporarily empty pub, arms crossed, admiration and love pouring from his glorious green eyes. A brief shadow passed across his face. He blinked and resumed his admiration of Myri in her wedding gown.
    “I traveled across half of Coronnan on my own, Lan. The children did, too. I don’t have to take your name for protection. If you want to wait for a real priest, we can.” She met his gaze and nearly lost herself in the intensity of his stare. She still couldn’t believe he had asked her to marry him. Living with him, following him anywhere across the continent, would have satisfied her. For as long as she had him, she wouldn’t leave him.
    Amaranth pounced from his hiding place beneath Myri’s skirt onto Nimbulan’s boot. He batted one cat paw at an imaginary shadow. Then he curled up on Nimbulan’s feet for a brief nap, clear proof that he had adopted the magician as Myri’s equal in his affections. Myri saw only the flywacket’s unwillingness to be separated from him.
    Her heart ached with the knowledge that she might lose him to the next battle. How would she live without him?
    She banished the terrible thought, unwilling to let her fears mar the beauty of the day. Her wedding day.
    “The marriage will only last a year if you don’t find a priest to bless it before the next Vernal Equinox,” Karry reminded them as she knotted the last stitch in the hem of the dress.
    Myri prayed they’d have that year together, at least.
    “I’ve not seen any prettier brides, Myri. The color suits you, though it’s the most common of all dyes and most brides want something different and special for their wedding gown.” Karry stood back, assessing the gown and the bride with a huge smile on her face.
    “I want this wedding, Myri. I want the laws of man and the Stargods to acknowledge what we already hold dear.” Nimbulan stepped to her side and raised her palm to his lips. They stood together a moment in silence. He kept his eyes lowered to her palm.
    Amaranth circled them both, purring loudly. His looping path wove an unneccesary binding spell—or was it protection? Myri touched the silver cord that bound her heart to Nimbulan’s. That simple piece of magic pulsed with vitality. Amaranth merely echoed the bonds already in place.
    Myri caressed Nimbulan’s face with her free hand, relishing the warm tingles that traveled from his kiss all the way through her body. Her knees weakened. ’Twas always the same. She had no control when he touched her. If they didn’t get on with the simple village ceremony soon, she’d tear his new tunic and trews from his body and make love with him on the bar. She vowed to herself not to let a day go by without making love to him and telling him of her joy in him. She wouldn’t let him go to his grave doubting her feelings.
    “Such scandalous thoughts, my love?” he whispered to her. He raised one eyebrow, as if he also contemplated the quickest way out of their new clothes—gifts from the villagers in thanks for saving Rory and Kelly and the other fishermen.
    “You read my mind?” she whispered back. He didn’t do it often. He had said that he hated violating another person’s privacy, yet every once in a while the rapport between them was so perfect he couldn’t help overhearing her thoughts. The magnificence of that rapport and the magnitude of his talent still awed her. She suppressed