The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

lips tentatively over hers, tasting the butterfly softness of her mouth. He deepened the contact. Passion exploded in him. He pulled her close against him, cherishing the way she filled his arms so naturally.
    “Your Grace!” Lord Hanic exclaimed from the doorway. Shock colored his voice.
    “Have the lords assembled at my request?” Quinnault asked, reluctantly lifting his head. He wanted to go on kissing Katie forever.
    “Your order, more like,” Hanic grumbled. “The ambassador from SeLenicca has come as well. He has that secret smile that tells me he expects you to ratify the marriage treaty with his princess.” He eyed Katie suspiciously.
    “I have accepted a better offer, Lord Hanic. Come inside, I will introduce the Council to my betrothed,” Quinnault said. Nervousness assailed him. He’d hoped to break the news to the ambassador in private.
    He took a deep breath and felt Katie do the same beside him. Suddenly, he knew that he couldn’t tell the entire fantastic story to the foreigners. They’d take it as simply a wild tale made up to explain away an inappropriate passion.
    “Whatever I say, Katie, please play along with me.”
    She pressed his hand in agreement.
    They entered the crowded Council Chamber together, arms linked. Quinnault took the high-backed dragon throne, gesturing for Katie to sit next to him, in the chair usually reserved for Nimbulan, his chief adviser.
    Five magicians sat among the lords, along with three ambassadors. In the center of the table, surrounding the Coraurlia—the fabulous, magical glass crown provided by the dragons—lay five marriage treaties. SeLenicca, Rossemeyer, and three lords all had eligible daughters. Clearly, all thought tonight’s announcement would confirm one of them.
    “My Lords, Master Magicians, may I present to you Princess Maarie Kaathliin of . . .” He couldn’t claim she was from Varnicia, the usual trading point for the Varns. The king and his bevy of sons were well known to these men. Where could she be from? “Of Terrania.” He named a remote and little known country way to the north of Varnicia.
    Katie looked at him strangely. How did you know? she asked.
    Quinnault didn’t respond, sensing mental barriers crashing down between them. He’d have to ask her later about Terrania. Later. He plunged on with his speech, almost babbling in his nervousness. “My Lord Konnaught, I cannot accept your offer of your half-sister, the illegitimate daughter of Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos, as my bride. Five years old is just too young to marry. Coronnan needs a queen now.” He handed the rolled parchment to his fosterling. The fragile sheepskin was tattered on the edge, signs of much scraping clean and reuse. The boy probably didn’t understand the insult this represented. His sister and the marriage weren’t worth a new piece of parchment.
    “My lords Hanic and Balthazaan, I must also decline the offers of your very beautiful and gracious daughters. Either one would make an admirable queen. But we are striving to set up a delicate balance of power here in Coronnan. The twelve lords representing the twelve provinces are equal in wealth and authority. I, as your king, must be a neutral binding force among you, a tie-breaking vote, dependent upon you for revenue and all but the most rudimentary warband. If I marry within Coronnan, the alliance will upset that delicate balance.”
    The ambassador from SeLenicca smiled smugly and crossed his arms in front of him. He sat back, satisfied. Only a frequent flicking of his gaze toward Katie betrayed any questions he might have.
    “My Lord of SeLenicca, please inform His Majesty that I cannot in good conscience marry his sister. She deserves a chance at happiness, to marry the man of her own choice rather than an arranged alliance in which she has no say.” He picked up the SeLenese treaty and handed it to the ambassador.
    The diplomat’s face turned purple with barely controlled rage. He grabbed the treaty out of Quinnault’s hands, almost tearing the new parchment. “My king will not be happy about this.”
    “I am sorry. But my decision is made.” Quinnault kept his gaze level, daring the ambassador to stalk out and declare war.
    The foreign emissary reclaimed his chair, tapping the rejected treaty against the council table angrily. “Moncriith warned us you would reject us. We are prepared to defend the honor of our princess,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he held the treaty out to