The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

broken coven.”
    Bloody Simurgh’s hell! thought Lanciar. Rejiia had alerted the Rovers to her pursuit. They’d hide the baby as well as the statue of Krej where no one without Rover blood could find them. Lanciar would never get close enough to separate his son from all of the other children running around the camp.
    He’d not take just any child. He wanted his own son, blood of his blood.
    Blood.
    The boy’s blood would shine through his life force when viewed from the void.
    Simurgh take them all, I’ll have to go into the void by myself, without an anchor to this world. I never thought I’d want to see you again, Jack. But I could use your help right now.
    “ S’murghit, I think I need another drink of this steed-piss ale.”

Chapter 11
     
    F rom Aquilla’s boat, Jack hastened back to the palace. He trusted the Bay Pilot to pick out one passenger with cool clammy skin and wobbling balance from sea sickness—there was always at least one even in the calmest of seas—and proclaim him ill from some exotic plague. Aquilla had the authority to quarantine all of the passengers. By sunset, the entire load of witch-sniffers would be back aboard their boat and headed out to sea flying a yellow flag of quarantine.
    Jack did not trust the witch-sniffers already in the city to cease their torment of innocents. Katrina, his betrothed, was a prime target for Gnul persecution because she hailed from a foreign land and had no legal spouse to protect her.
    Once changed into a decent uniform, he sneaked through the palace toward the inner courtyard that caught and held the sunlight. It was there Katrina chose to work at her lace pillow.
    He couldn’t allow her to delay their marriage any longer.
    “Name the day, Katrina.” Jack kissed his love on the forehead. He brushed his fingers along the long plaits of silver-gilt hair. She dropped her head onto his chest, hiding her face. He tugged on the plaits where they joined into a single thick rope below her nape, bringing her eyes up to meet his again.
    Fear of the witch-sniffers made him jumpy. He had to keep a calm face and manner so Katrina would not panic.
    The drone of bees flitting from flower to flower in this private courtyard within the palace sounded loud in his ears, but not as loudly as the pounding of his heart.
    “Just tell me when, and I will meet you in any temple in Coronnan City to say my vows to any priest. Just name the day,” he pleaded. Once they were married, he might convince King Darville to hasten his promised appointment as ambassador to SeLenicca. Then he could leave the witch-sniffers and their rabid accusations behind before they threatened Katrina.
    “I . . . I . . . Jack, I’m afraid,” she replied as she turned pale blue eyes up to him.
    He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and protect her from her inner demons as well as from the Gnuls for the rest of their lives.
    Since the death of his familiar—a cranky jackdaw with tufts of white feathers over his eyes that looked like Old Baamin’s bushy white eyebrows—he’d been empty, emotionally lost. Only Katrina made him feel whole again. With her beside him, he might not need another familiar.
    What he needed was to get her out of town.
    “You led me across Queen’s City during a massive kardiaquake.” He brushed a light kiss across her brow. “You bandaged a dragon wing with a special piece of magic lace.” He kissed both of her cheeks. She started melting into him, losing the rigidity in her spine. “And you helped me battle the coven with tremendous courage, Katrina. What could you possibly fear after that?”
    “I . . . I fear you, Jack.” She looked pointedly at his palace guard uniform. The uniform must remind her of the violence inflicted upon one and all by palace guards in Queen’s City. The inhabitants of her home tolerated, almost encouraged, that violence. They claimed it kept them safe from contamination by outlanders.
    “I fear the intensity of your love for me,” Katrina admitted. “I’m not certain I can return it. After Brunix . . . You know what he did to me. How can I love any man after that?”
    Jack held her face protectively against his chest rather than look at the tears in her eyes. Neeles Brunix, half-Rover, opportunist, and unscrupulous businessman, had owned Katrina and her lacemaking talent for three years. The coven had murdered Brunix and framed Jack for the crime.
    “Brunix loved you, too, in his own twisted way,”