The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

out on Piedro’s brow, and he lost much of the high color beneath the dirt and beard shadow on his cheeks.
    The four guards shoved the outlaw’s face into the cave wall. They stretched his arms painfully over his head. One of them tore the rough black shirt from Piedro’s back. He shook the fabric hard. Another guard poked and slapped the prisoner’s body. He pressed his fingers into every fold and crevice of Piedro’s trews until he came up with a small knife concealed between the prisoner’s legs near the groin.
    He held up the palm-sized knife triumphantly. Grinning, he slapped his wand twice against a rock by the entrance. The metal chimed against stone but didn’t screech as it had earlier. The guard shouted: “Send two escorts. We’ve got one for the pit.”
    No humiliating trial in the Justice Hall. Obviously, taking a weapon into the palace meant immediate punishment.
    The crowd of people surrounding the entrance began moving again, talking quietly among themselves. A few cast sidelong glances at Piedro, still held hard against the wall.
    One serving girl tried to slip outside without being searched. The vigilant guards grabbed her, too. But the wands remained silent, so they let her go.
    Two more guards ran up and took custody of Piedro. The criminal screamed pleas and protests as they dragged him roughly into the dark interior of the palace.
    Myri turned. They would lead her to the pit. If she remained silent and unseen behind them. She’d spent a lifetime eluding pursuers. The dragons had taught her many things, especially how to avoid detection.
    “There you are, Myrilandel,” Yaassima said sweetly. She clamped her long-fingered hand firmly on Myri’s shoulder.

Chapter 15
     
    “Y ou seem restless today,” Yaassima said. A satisfied hum followed her words. “Perhaps you should have joined us last night. I found the spectacle of Kestra being raped—invigorating.”
    Myri turned slowly under her warden’s hand, to face her. Yaassima’s emotions were dominated by sexual satisfaction. Nothing else reached Myri’s empathic talent. Yet she sensed dissatisfaction in the older woman.
    “Did you need me for something?” Myri asked. She didn’t want to touch on the subject of Yaassima’s orgy or Kestra’s pain and humiliation.
    “You need new gowns. The mother of my heir must appear as regal as I. I thought we burned that hideous peasant gown you’re wearing.”
    The gown had served Myri well for a long time. Most of the people she dealt with in her normal life considered her choice of attire graceful and attractive. Yaassima’s clothes were too bright and clumsy for everyday wear.
    “The people need to see you suitably clothed. I can’t decide between the ruby and the emerald for you.” Yaassima started walking toward the interior of the palace. She kept her hand firmly on Myri’s shoulder, compelling her to accompany her.
    “I prefer the colors of the Kardia to jewel tones,” Myri said. She walked slowly, making the Kaalipha adjust her long stride to fit hers.
    “Nonsense. You fade into the background. I want you to stand out in any crowd.”
    Dragons prefer to remain unnoticed. Myri bit her lip rather than voice the thought. Safety lay in making Yaassima believe she took the drugs and didn’t have the will to defy her.
    “Always remember the tremendous honor I do you in making your daughter my heir.” Yaassima threw her hands wide as if embracing all of Hanassa in her enthusiasm. “I think the red for the baby’s naming ceremony. Hanassa has such a majestic ring to it. She will grow into the name with proper training.
    “My daughter’s name is Amaranth.” This was something she had to fight Yaassima for. She couldn’t allow the Kaalipha to engulf her identify or her daughter’s in grandiose delusions. Yaassima had no concept of reality beyond the walls of Hanassa and her own imagination. “If I must wear your fancy silks in brilliant colors, then I will wear purple.”
    “Nonsense. There are no purple dragons. We wear only the colors of our kind. I have decreed it.” Yaassima’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Myri, trying to impose her will.
    Myri stopped short. Rage boiled within her. “There are no purple dragons now.” Amaranth was dead and Myri dared not transform. There would not be another purple dragon until Shayla bred again. Even then, dragonkind might have to wait several generations for another purple.
    (Purple dragons have special destinies