The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

heir to the throne of Coronnan. I’ll have your head when I am regent.”
    “You’ll have to wait for King Darville to die first. And now that we’ve been warned, we’ll protect him.” Margit inserted herself between the door and the guard, making sure Ariiell could get no closer.
    “But . . . but you can’t. I have the coven backing me,” Ariiell spluttered. Her haughty demeanor drained out of her, leaving a greatly diminished and confused young woman.
    “Oh, shut up, you ignorant twit!” Rejiia’s harsh voice came from behind the sealed door.
    Just then Robb pushed his way through the crowd. “If you want your child to inherit the crown, then you have to stop using magic now, Ariiell.” He leaned close to her, speaking each word distinctly. “Do you know what happens when a child’s magic is awakened prematurely because the mother thoughtlessly throws spells—if the child survives the ordeal of birth? Usually a premature birth.” Anger suffused his face with bright color.
    Margit had never seen him display such passion. Usually he fell into a long pedantic lecture. Interest pricked, she noted that Vareena hung back from the confrontation. The air of possessiveness she’d displayed when they left this morning seemed to have blown away.
    “Well, I’ll tell you what happens—what happened to Brevelan’s first child,” Robb continued with barely a pause for breath. “The child never speaks. He doesn’t need to because he has direct mind-to-mind communication with anyone who has a bit of magical talent. But he is totally incapable of communicating with mundanes. How can a king rule if he can’t communicate with his Council or the vast majority of his subjects? Those of us with magical talent grow up surrounded by other magicians, we seek out others of our kind when we are away from our comrades. So we expect everyone to be able to do what we do. But only one in one thousand is born with any magical talent at all. Only one in one thousand of those have enough talent to qualify for admission into the University. Only one in one hundred of those will ever reach master status.”
    “Mundanes mean nothing.” Ariiell dismissed his tirade with a disdainful wave of her delicate hand.
    “You’ve been working magic your entire pregnancy. I can smell it on you.” Rob did not let up. His eyes almost glowed with intensity.
    Margit gritted her teeth. She knew there was a reason she shouldn’t settle down with Marcus to produce baby after baby—as Brevelan had. She wasn’t ready to give up her magic yet. She had too much more to learn. Too many more places to go and sights to see.
    “Any one of the Rover midwives will be able to tell you the child’s awareness is awakened very early in the womb. It grows eager to be out in the world, to see what all of the magic is about.” Robb finally breathed. He stood straight again and relaxed his shoulders. But Margit suspected his words were intended to reach more ears than just Ariiell’s. “The child will come early, before you are ready. He’ll tear up your insides in his eagerness to be out in the world before he is ready to breathe air and eat food. If you survive, you’ll never bear another child.”
    “Is that the fate of my son? Will he ever learn to speak? Will he be able to lead a normal life?” Lanciar, the soldier from SeLenicca asked. His slender cheeks took on new hollows and shadows. “Stargods, Rejiia ate the Tambootie while pregnant. What did that do to her?”
    “Your son is too young to know the extent of Rejiia’s folly while carrying him,” Zolltarn said. He reached out a hand as if to pat the man’s shoulder in reassurance. But of course he couldn’t bridge the energy barrier that separated him from the real world where Lanciar remained. “Rejiia has always been indiscriminate with her spells and her concerns for others. That is why her Rover wet nurse spirited him away from the witch. With our special links, we hope to give him a home and family that will protect him from the violent prejudice of the outside world.”
    “I knew I had decided to join you for a good reason.” A half smile lighted the soldier’s face.
    “King Darville has already been alerted that the child you carry is no longer qualified to succeed him,” Marcus said, strolling into the group.
    Margit’s heart skipped a beat in joy at sight of him, but then slowed to its normal dull thud. She would always love this man, but her destiny lay elsewhere.