Free The Wandering Dragon (Children of the Dragon Nimbus) by Irene Radford

needing assistance to get to her feet.
    Yolanda laughed.
    Ever afterward, Maria’s hip and knee protested while climbing stairs.
    Even then Lokeen had feared showing any sign of weakness, lest it give his enemies a point of leverage to remove him from his purloined throne.
    A throne he should have relinquished to the nearest eligible female relative of his deceased wife and whichever male
she
chose as a consort.
    Maria was not eligible because of her deformities. Family and courtiers alike had beaten that concept into her from the day she was born. She did not want the responsibility or power. That belonged to stronger individuals; stronger in both mind and body.
    At last the sergeant of the guard, Young Frederico—his father, Senior Frederico had held the position before him—emerged from the cellar door that led to the royal treasury (a different wing with a separate entrance from the dungeons). He cradled in both hands an object covered in costly blue silk, and stepped gingerly as if afraid of tripping and breaking the precious and fragile artifact.
    Maria recognized the cloth. The previous mage had taken it from the current mage when he arrived along with the staff. Then Sir demanded that Maria open the treasury—she had one of the two keys, Lokeen had stolen the other from his wife, the other rightful keeper—and hide the magical tools there. “Two more precious items resting among the ancient religious artifacts as well as the gold and silver to run the kingdom,” he’d said. “But unlike the rest of the treasury, you, Lady Maria, must never, ever, under any circumstances touch either the glass or the staff with a bare hand. It will burn you to the bone.”
    The ancient Spearhead of Destiny was like that. No male could touch it unless it was given to him by the woman in charge of it. She hadn’t mentioned the Spearhead to Sir. He didn’t need to know about it. Neither did Lokeen.
    “I will take that to the magician,” Maria said firmly to Young Frederico.
    He hesitated.
    “Would you carry the Spearhead of Destiny into battle against the Krakatrice without me giving it to you with a blessing?”
    He held out his cupped hands and bowed his head to her authority and the conclusion that this artifact fell into the same revered class as the Spearhead of Destiny.
    She folded the silk more closely around the round treasure—such a wonderful texture in silk; like free-flowing water over a parched hand—and took the precious object from him. Then she looked up the long and winding stair. Practicality won out over awe, and she pocketed the round glass with a gold rim so that she had two free hands to clutch the railing.
    Young Frederico must have more intelligence than his underlings, for he stepped up beside her and held out his arm, silently, politely looking off into the distance, not acknowledging her weakness, just accepting it. Just as the mage Robb had done yesterday. Had Frederico witnessed the mage’s behavior and mimicked it?
    “How fares your sister, Frella?” Maria asked.
    “Well enough,” he replied flatly.
    “Only ‘well enough’? I’d hoped for better for her.”
    “She works at the stables outside the city walls. She’s happy working with steeds day and night. But they aren’t of the quality in the royal stables,” he said, almost as if reluctant to speak of his sister out loud.
    “Please send her my greetings and let her know I am pleased so many of the women warriors have found employment in the city since . . . the king dismissed them from palace duties.”
    “I’m certain she will appreciate your concern.” He ducked his head and allowed a tiny smile to tip the corners of his mouth upward.
    With his arm and the railing balancing her steps, and moving slowly, with dignity, as one should in a royal procession, she mounted the stairs without stopping for breath or to ease her pain. Frederico held open the door to the turret cell with deference. Someone had taught him some