The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

throne with the Coraurlia—the magically charmed glass crown in the shape of a dragon—on her head; or until someone managed to kill her.
    “Release my father!” she called in an imperious tone. But there was a tightness in her neck muscles and the way her hand clenched around a small wand set with a black crystal on the end. She must use the wand as most magicians used a staff. A pretty and feminine affectation. And undoubtedly just as deadly as the woman who used it. She pointed the crystal directly at the statue of her father.
    The tin weasel rocked again, but it remained firmly anchored atop the sledge.
    Then Marcus noted that Zolltarn rested his hand on Krej. He flashed his brilliant smile at Rejiia. She flinched ever so slightly.
    As long as Zolltarn had some of the enchanted gold in his possession and touched the tin statue, the statue traversed both realities and was subject to the magic of neither. A dark aura surrounded the statue, as black as the void.
    Something was terribly wrong with Krej.
    Rejiia must have sensed it, too. She disappeared in another flash of light and swirl of wind. Just as suddenly, she reappeared directly in front of Zolltarn and the statue.
    The black aura moved higher. The statue rocked harder, puffing up to almost twice its normal size.
    Marcus jumped to stand between Margit and Vareena and the magic about to go awry.

Chapter 35
     
    “G ive him back to me!” Rejiia said through clenched teeth. Her body seemed as tightly controlled as her jaw.
    “And what of our son, Rejiia?” Lanciar asked. “Don’t you care anything at all about the child the Rovers hide from you?” The mass of Rovers and newcomers separated for him as he marched over to her side. Outrage poured from him like a leaking bucket. Magic power raced from his fingertips up his arms to his shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to backhand the woman and knock her clear out of his life into her next existence.
    “The child is just one more crime for which Zolltarn and his Rovers must answer to the coven. My father is in greater danger. Release him!” Rejiia reached out with her hand and her magic to encircle the tin weasel.
    Light flashed, and the world tilted. Rejiia joined the Rovers and the others trapped in some reality different from Lanciar’s.
    Part of Lanciar wanted to laugh. Disgust invaded a bigger part of him.
    “Is this place truly safe?” A new voice asked from the gateway. A feminine voice speaking Lanciar’s native language.
    Only Katrina turned to look at this newest additions to the mob. Rejiia continued to struggle with Zolltarn for possession of Krej.
    “Your Majesty,” Katrina gasped as she bent her knees into a full curtsy. In the same motion, she tugged on Jack’s sleeve to bring his head respectfully lower than the trail-weary woman.
    Miranda cradled a small child in her arms. Yet another Rover held her arm at the elbow.
    This new Rover wore the same red-and-purple trim on his black clothes as Zolltarn’s clan. Lanciar did not recognize him from his weeks on the road with the Rovers.
    Lace spilled from the panniers on the back of their pack steed. But it wasn’t quite a steed. Then the beast opened his mouth and extended his neck, bellowing an obnoxious braying sound around a mouthful of big, square teeth. A team of trumpeters could not have attracted more attention.
    Everyone in the compound turned to face this new greeting.
    “Who?” Zolltarn asked.
    Lord Andrall and Lord Laislac immediately bent a single knee to her presence. Their wives followed suit—sometime during the fray they, too, had dismounted.
    “Your Majesty, may I present your new ambassador from Coronnan,” Katrina said, daring to raise her head a little. She pushed Jack forward. He stumbled to one knee. The flywacket remained firmly on his shoulder, flaring his wings just enough for them both to catch their balance.
    “Your Majesty, my position as ambassador to SeLenicca has not been confirmed by the Council of Provinces, only promised by His Grace King Darville.”
    “Miranda,” Lanciar breathed. “When did she come back to life?” In asking the question, he knew the answer. The moment Simeon died, his spells would have dissipated. The sorcerer-king had kept his wife—the hereditary ruler of SeLenicca—comatose for weeks to keep her from revoking the edict of joint monarchy. She had planned to strip him of power and divorce him. His blatant affair with Rejiia had pushed her beyond