The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

determined by forces beyond the wisdom of dragons.) Shayla’s statement rang through her memory. That special destiny had fallen to Myrilandel. She had become the link between dragons and humans so that human magic could be controlled and used only for the benefit of all.
    “I will wear purple, or I will wear my old gown,” Myri said. While she remained in Hanassa, she had no other link to the dragons. She must wear purple, the same shade as Amaranth had worn on his wing veins and spinal horns.
    Yaassima stopped on the first step up to their private suite. Her eyes narrowed and her fingers flexed convulsively. “You take your independence and defiance too far, Myrilandel. You will wear the gown I provide or you will wear nothing at all. And the baby’s name is Hanassa.”
    Myri stared into the Kaalipha’s eyes, shoulders rigid and jaw set. They were bound together by that gaze for long moments, neither bending to the other’s will.
    The sound of running footsteps down the steps broke Myri’s concentrated defiance. She dropped her gaze but kept her posture. Yaassima looked up, severe annoyance showing in her tightly compressed lips and the deep lines around her eyes.
    Kalen skidded to a halt three steps above Yaassima. She clung to the walls of the narrow staircase to keep from falling forward from her abrupt stop.
    “There you are, Myrilandel. Amaranth is crying. I think she’s hungry,” the girl said, out of breath. I found him, she sent to Myri telepathically. I know where Powwell is being held.
    Myri shook her head, wondering how Kalen dared use mind speech in Yaassima’s presence. The Kaalipha might overhear.
    She doesn’t have real magic, only gadgets and toys that make her seem all-powerful. That’s what Powwell says.
    “I must go to Amaranth.” Myrilandel shook herself free of Yaassima’s hand that still rested on her shoulder.
    “You may watch Maia nurse your child if you must. A monarch does not stoop to such messy, peasant activities.”
    “Yaassima, you claim dragon heritage in one breath and deny it with your actions. Dragons nurse their own young for many years, until they are old enough and strong enough to hunt on their own. Yet you seek to deny me that same nurturing, instinctive to me. Which are you, Yaassima, dragon or self-serving outlaw?” Had she overstepped the line between safety and strength? Myri pushed away her fear of the older woman.
    The Kaalipha’s lip curled upward in a snarl. Her fingers flexed as if tearing the flesh of her prey. “You have no need to explore the palace, Myrilandel. You must learn to keep the air of mystery and power, so the people we govern don’t lose their fear through familiarity. I have set boundaries within the palace. You will soon learn them. Maia and I will take complete control of the care of my heir, Hanassa.”
    Myri looked hard at Kalen, wondering if the Kaalipha had overheard the girl’s telepathic message.
    “Oh, and, Myrilandel, do not consider defying me on this.” Yaassima adjusted her tone to one of mild pleasantries. She pulled a long golden chain from the pocket of her gown. From the chain dangled a dragon-shaped pendant cut from a single crystal. “You will wear this amulet at all times, and I shall know where you are and who you talk to. I have assigned Nastfa and Golin to watch over you day and night.”
    Curiosity glimmered in the back of Myri’s mind. Nastfa and Golin had been humiliated and tormented by Yaassima last night at the orgy. Their resentment toward the Kaalipha might be turned to help Myri escape with the children.
    “Nastfa and Golin have a vested interest in staying close to you now, Myrilandel,” Yaassima continued. “They entertained me so well last night with their embarrassment that I have commuted their sentence. My women are still forbidden to them, but if you stray beyond the boundaries I have set, they may do with you as they wish. I promise you, they will not be gentle or kind.”
     
    “You aren’t a very good king,” Konnaught d’Astrismos said matter-of-factly.
    King Quinnault looked up from a copy of the newly drafted treaty with Rossemeyer to stare at him. The boy returned his gaze, stone-faced and unreadable. But the way he cleaned beneath his fingernails with his belt knife—the small tool every man carried—was too casual. Konnaught sought to pick a fight. Why?
    “What brought on this absurd accusation?” Quinnault refused to allow this child to unnerve him. But he wanted