The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

Try to steer Jack and Katrina in that direction. I suspect those roads are less well guarded and safer than through two armies at the headwaters of the River Coronnan.” He left her alone.
    “Oh, and return the water to the creek and the bowl and agate to my desk before you eat.”
    “Am I a journeywoman yet, Master Jaylor?”
    “Probably. But we haven’t time for the trial by Tambootie smoke. We’ll worry about that later. Find yourself a staff anyway. We’ll discuss this further when you get back to me tonight.” He hurried back toward the clearing and his family.
    “I’m going to find you, Marcus, no matter how much I have to improvise,” Margit said to the empty air. “No matter what magical and mundane barriers stand between us, I will find you. Then the two of us will spend the rest of our lives together, traveling the world on missions for the Commune.”

    “Come, daughter.” Lord Laislac grabbed Ariiell’s hand and dragged her off the bed. “A priest and the imbecile await us.”
    “P’pa?” Ariiell sat down on the edge of the high mattress, resisting his efforts to propel her out the door. “What has come over you? Why the sudden hurry?”
    She knew the reason well enough. All day the king and queen had withdrawn from court, smiling longingly into each other’s eyes. Rossemikka’s pale skin had developed a rosy glow, she wore her hair loose about her shoulders, disguising the strange white streaks in the auburn, brown, black, blond hair. The royal couple laughed and smiled secretly at each other as they held hands.
    They acted like newlyweds, in the first flush of love. Disgusting.
    They were up to something. Something devious and detrimental to Ariiell.
    Rumors flew through the capital. Half the court were certain the queen had conceived again. The other half gleefully named a secret mistress who would produce a child that the royal couple would substitute for the queen’s many failed pregnancies.
    If Ariiell and her father had any hopes of having her child named heir to the throne, they had to insure its legitimacy as quickly as possible.
    “Lord Andrall agrees with me. The kingdom is too unstable to rely on the queen to produce an heir. If she miscarries again, it could well kill her. The brat you carry is the only hope.” Laislac yanked hard on Ariiell’s arm, nearly dislocating her shoulder before she had a chance to balance on her own two feet. The folds of her gown twisted to outline the huge swell of her baby.
    “How far along are you?” Laislac stared at his daughter. “You told your stepmother only four moons.”
    “Closer to seven,” Ariiell dropped her eyes, feigning embarrassment.
    “We’ve no time to waste, then, do we?” her father stated.
    She cringed away from him, expecting a hard slap, or a burning bruise on her upper arm. When the hurt did not come, she chanced a glance at him. A wry smile tugged at her father’s lips.
    “Stargods, I wish your brothers were half as cunning as you. How often did you have to endure the imbecile in your bed before you arranged to be found?”
    “Only three times.” Mardall, for all of his slow mind and stalled emotional growth, had been a rather considerate lover. More so than some. Mardall wanted to please. Her other lovers—usually within a ritual eight-pointed star of the coven—wanted only their own pleasure and the power of domination. “When I knew for certain that Mardall’s seed had found fertile ground, I deliberately made mistakes in arranging the next tryst.” Ariiell returned her father’s smile. “You’ll be the grandfather of the next king, P’pa. ’Twill be easy enough to arrange a joint regency between you and Lord Andrall.”
    “Tell me, daughter, did you choose to foster with Andrall after your mother died and before I remarried with this in mind?”
    Ariiell smiled at her father, letting him draw his own conclusions. If she allowed him to guess part of the truth, he’d not look further for the entire truth.
    “Lord Andrall and Lady Lynnetta are very kind and trusting. Too bad they have withdrawn from court so often this last year and more.” Ariiell kept her eyes on the floor—she couldn’t see her toes anymore for the bulk of the baby. Let her father think what he liked. She’d never tell him that she had anchored the eight-pointed star in Nunio. She’d never tell him how the coven had arranged for her fosterage and her pregnancy.
    “Everyone knows Andrall retreats to the quiet of