The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

gasped. She held her hand to her throat in dismay. “My marriage was a political union. The negotiations between our fathers went on for years.”
    “I would think a union that important should be left to the Stargods as well,” Katie replied quietly, head down.
    She played with her needlework a moment to keep her hands busy. All she ever did with her sewing was play and pretend she accomplished something. She’d never learned the fine art before coming to Coronnan. However, her afternoon gatherings with the ladies of the court seemed to demand she join them in the skill.
    No one in the room spoke. Katie peeked to see the five women exchanging horrified glances, shaking their heads and biting their lips.
    “Spring Festival is a good time to announce betrothals.” Katie decided to partially agree with the women. “The dance is even a good way to introduce couples and to celebrate the joy of Spring. But children deserve a stable, loving family with parents who choose to be together rather than those who come together randomly. I do not want Festival in the capital city to degrade into an orgy.”
    “Our retainers will be most disappointed, Your Grace,” Lady Nunio interjected.
    “I’m certain young men and women who want to experiment with sex will find a way to do so. But let it be discreet and private.”
    “What of the young men going off to war? Many do not return. Festival is their only chance to sire a child,” Lady Hanic asserted.
    Strange that she, of all those present, would present an argument. Like her husband, she usually waited to support whatever side of an argument seemed likely to win.
    “We are at peace, Lady Hanic. With luck and diplomacy, the men will not be marching off to war any time soon.” Or did she know something Katie didn’t?
    “One of the reasons we have clung to Festival for so long is to replenish the unstable population due to generations of civil war,” Lady Nunio said mildly. “We may have peace now, but we also have a disease running rampant that is killing as many as any major battle. But we lose women and children as well as men in their prime. We need a good Festival to bring hope back to the people.”
    Katie stilled in shock. She’d read reports of a few isolated cases of a disease felling many in a single village. A plague running rampant had never been mentioned. Who hid the information and why? Was it the plague?
    “Your Grace!” Kaariin ran into the solar from the nursery. She wrung her hands in anxiety. Her face looked too pale. “Come quickly, Your Grace, the baby is sick.”
    Katie dropped her hopeless embroidery as she stood. “How?” she demanded, running toward the inner room.
    “She coughs until her skin turns waxy and blue. I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’ve taken good care of her. I’m not responsible . . .” the girl babbled.
    “Send a message for King Quinnault to return immediately.” Katie dashed past her maid to her daughter’s crib.
    Sure enough, little Marilell coughed deeply again and again interspersed with whimpers of pain and bewilderment. Katie picked her up, patting her back in soothing circles. Too tired and weak to hold her head up, Marilell rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and continued to cough.

Chapter 13
     
    Midafternoon, royal nursery, Palace Reveta Tristile, Coronnan City
     
    K atie looked carefully at her baby, searching for the cause of her illness. “Send for the king immediately, Kaariin,” Katie commanded. The maid curtsied and ran down the corridor.
    Marilell continued coughing, weaker now, gasping for breath between each spasm.
    “Allow me, little sister,” Jamie Patrick said emerging from the shadows behind the doorway. “I think I know what ails the child. My own Kevin did the same thing.” He held out his arms for the baby.
    Katie relinquished her daughter reluctantly. Only the deep love and trust between herself and her brother allowed her to part with her ailing child. He had a little more experience than she with two young children back home with his seldom seen and rarely acknowledged—by her father—wife.
    “Thank the Stargods you’re here. Is it . . . is it the plague?” she asked, almost afraid that if she voiced her deepest fears they would come true.
    “Nothing quite so bizarre,” her oldest brother replied. He sat on a nearby stool and draped the little princess over his knee.
    Marilell screamed her distress.
    “She gets enough air to protest whatever ails her,” Nimbulan