The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

heartbeat.
    Scarface honors his debts. Especially a life debt to me, Televarn reminded himself. He won’t dare betray me. Stop worrying. Still he wished the staff had been discarded elsewhere. He needed someone to intervene between Scarface and Nimbulan.
    The guard, Nastfa, was still frozen by Nimbulan’s spell and useless to Televarn’s plans.
    He’d known the guard was a spy for the King of Maffisto since he arrived in Hanassa six years ago. Why Yaassima hadn’t discovered this truth remained a mystery. Maybe she believed Nastfa had switched allegiance to her. Maybe her own arrogance blinded her to the possibility of spies and traitors within her ranks.
    Nastfa was immune to the promise of a route back to his home country in return for his group siding with Televarn and the Rovers in the rebellion against Yaassima. At least he was until he awoke from the trance. The offer couldn’t be made in front of the Kaalipha either.
    Patience, he reminded himself. Everything was falling into place. Patience.
    Yaassima stumbled frequently on the route to the Justice Hall. She cursed at each false step. By the time they encountered the back door to the circular room, she could almost stand upright by herself. Televarn kept his arm around her, needing her weak and dependent.
    “I’ll reward you for delivering Nimbulan to me, Televarn. But I won’t reward you with the woman as you requested. She defied my laws. She must die with the man she calls husband.” Yaassima struggled to stand upright on her own two feet.
    Televarn adjusted his grasp to keep her off balance. She was so tall—taller than Myri, who stood eye-to-eye with him—his shoulder felt dislocated by her weight.
    “What of the babe?” Televarn asked casually, as if Myrilandel’s life or death meant nothing to him. He shifted his stride, keeping it uneven so Yaassima would have to concentrate on her steps and not her plans.
    “Hanassa is my heir. I will raise her properly to control the power bequeathed to us by the dragons. I see now that Myrilandel would interfere too much with the raising of the child. She must die.” Yaassima shrugged off his arm and straightened her long, bumpy, back. She glared at him, as if she knew his intentions. But she didn’t reprimand him. “Open the door for me, Televarn. I must confront my people with justice.”
    Hundreds of people would witness the execution. Televarn had made certain his agents prepared the populace and the palace denizens while he crept into Yaassima’s bedchamber by a secret route. Some of the tunnels he had crawled through not even the Kaalipha knew about. Certainly, she wasn’t aware of the opening in the interior wall of her bathing chamber. The laundry bin covered it. Maia had discovered it when she overturned the bin in a fit of rage just yesterday.
    Maia’s uncontrolled thoughts were easy to read at a considerable distance.
    “Nimbulan must die first, Yaassima.” Televarn tried to keep the begging quality out of his voice. “Myrilandel must watch him die and know that she brought this on herself.”
    “Yes. She must suffer by watching him die. I give you the privilege of holding her head so that she may not turn away.” Yaassima shook off the last effects of the sleeping potion.
    Televarn smiled to himself. Little did the Kaalipha realize that the drugs and spells he’d used to counteract the potion had left her mind open and vulnerable to his suggestions. The enthralling ecstasy she always experienced after an execution would seal her doom. A true Bloodmage, like Moncriith, drew power from blood and death. Not Yaassima. She used them like sex to satiate her bizarre appetites. When she dipped her hands in Nimbulan’s blood, she’d be powerless to defend herself from Televarn’s poison-dipped blade.
    Yaasima stepped through the narrow bronze door—miniature duplicate of one of the panels that sealed her private suite. The lights blazed as the doors swung forward. Smoke swirled and thunder clapped. The audience hushed, then gasped in awe as the Kaalipha of Hanassa, descendant of dragons, stepped through the tapestry and appeared as if by magic.
    “I’ll wrest the secret of that trick from her before she dies,” Televarn said as he followed Yaassima through the doors. He watched with the crowds as Scarface and a cortege of mercenaries escorted Myrilandel and Nimbulan through the other door, below the dais. The couple held hands and looked proudly ahead of them. Kalen stumbled