The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

limited weapons.
    “Marcus and Robb found it. They should determine who deserves it, if anyone. But only after they remove the curse. If they are able to do so.”
    “I’d like it to go to Queen Miranda. SeLenicca does not deserve what we did to it.” And if the approaching army came from SeLenicca the gold might appease their anger. They needed Miranda’s cooperation. “The people of SeLenicca are arrogant, determined to remain superior and separate from the rest of the world. But most of them are innocent of the evil the coven brought there. We need to help them rebuild.”
    “Somehow, I didn’t expect that from you, Lanciar,” Jack said after a long moment of silence. “I have to admit I half-hoped you’d try to lie and I could watch you die. For both our sakes, I’m glad you told the truth. Now I know why Katrina is so frightened of me. I scare myself sometimes. You can get up whenever you feel strong enough.”
    Lanciar wiggled his toes and rotated his hands. A bit of chafing remained. “Where’d you get the manacles, Jack?”
    “Left over from my days as King Darville’s bodyguard.”
    “We might need them on Rejiia.” She could complicate the battle plan taking shape in his head.
    “I doubt they’d hold long. She has one formidable talent.”
    “What are we going to do with her? Now that she knows the transport spell, she can’t be kept out of Coronnan.”
    “I have some ideas. But they are dangerous. Thanks to her, we all have a very big problem.”
    “On top of many other problems. Perhaps the combined might of the Rovers will hold her until Marcus returns with some answers—if he gets back in time. Your Rover blood will allow you to join with them. Maija assures me that once she and I are married, I will be able to join her clan in their mind-to-mind link.”
    “I’ve resisted that link,” Jack replied, staring blankly at the floor. “I worked too hard to find out who I was and what was important to me to risk losing myself in the clan. I’ll work with Andrall and Laislac as we plan a defense. You can work with Zolltarn.”
    “I look forward to losing myself in the clan rather than in the bottom of a mug of ale. I’ll need a clear head to get through the next battle.”

Chapter 38
     
    “W here are you going Lord Andrall?” Ariiell asked in panic.
    How could she have been so stupid as to reveal her connections to the coven? Something about the sight of all that gold in the hands of filthy Rovers. Something compelling. The gold was enchanted. That was the answer. She had to possess it, learn its secrets. Then she could use it to buy influence, bribe and coerce the rest of the coven to give her the center position of power.
    For now, she sat huddled before a small fire burning in the hearth against the outside wall of the scriptorium of this ancient and chill monastery. She didn’t believe for a moment that some enchantment trapped her here. She could overcome any curse laid upon her. Her magic was strong and growing stronger because the baby anchored her more firmly to Kardia.
    She shivered despite the heat thrown out by the fire she augmented with magic. These old stone walls held the chill of the ages, a chill that burned all the way to her soul. She had to get out of here, quickly, before the ancient cold hurt the baby.
    But everyone—her parents, Mardall, his parents, and all of their retainers—watched her with suspicion and fear.
    “I am going to consult with the resident magicians. King Darville must be informed of these latest developments,” Andrall stated coldly. “He may have exiled me because of your behavior, Ariiell, but I still support him as my king, my wife’s nephew, and . . . and my friend.” He rose from his camp stool and walked resolutely to the door.
    “You intend to rob me and my child of our rightful place in the succession,” she accused bitterly.
    “If necessary.” He stalked out of the large room without bothering to bow to anyone.
    “You owe me respect. I carry the heir to the throne. I carry your grandchild!” Rage propelled her off her own uncomfortable camp stool—all their luggage could provide. She kicked the offensive piece of furniture into the fire. This Simurgh-cursed place did not have so much as a chair to ease the pain in her back.
    “My husband owes you nothing, slut,” Lady Lynnetta sneered. “You seduced my boy. You brought this exile upon us. And now you profess loyalty to the coven. You will never hold power