such a jealous creature, Ilona, where your young men are concerned, aren’t you?” Bending, Thanos kissed the top of her gilt head. “I will leave you to watch over your grandson, my dear, and go back to my trees. They, too, have their difficulties, but are not as complicated as faeries and mortals tend to be.”
In precisely two hours, as Ilona had promised him, Dillon awoke. He felt enormously refreshed and revitalized. There had, of course, been magic in the sleeping potion she had added to his wine. He stretched and sat up. Immediately the bed turned back into a settee, and his grandmother was seated next to him. “Thank you,” he said.
“Now tell me what is happening in Belmair, and why you need my help,” Ilona said. “Why did you not call your mother?”
“As Belmair’s king it is my right to ask for help from whomever I choose to ask,” Dillon began. Then he explained everything that had happened to date, concluding, “I need three magical beings to go into the Great Halls of the three dukes to instantly transport all the young women in each dutchy, married or unmarried, into those halls, and then to speak the spell that will protect them from the Yafir. You, Cirillo and I will be those magical beings, Grandmother.”
“What of the dragon?” Ilona wanted to know.
“She will remain behind in my Great Hall to calm the women who are brought there. She is capable of protecting the hall and the women in it from the Yafir until we return back through the tunnels to work the spell on them ourselves,” Dillon said.
“What is she like, this dragon of yours?” Ilona wanted to know.
“Beautiful, kindly, amusing, intelligent,” he said.
“Intelligent? That does not sound particularly Belmairan,” Ilona observed.
Dillon laughed aloud. “You are jealous of Nidhug,” he said wickedly.
“Be careful, you rude boy,” his grandmother warned him. “Remember that you need my help. I care not if the Yafir take every female on Belmair for their own. Actually if they did gain control of that world they would be less troublesome.”
“I think not,” Dillon said. “Remember that for centuries no one in the magic kingdoms has heard or seen the Yafir. They are outcasts, nomads, scorned by all. But give them their own world, Grandmother, and who knows what havoc they will raise with the rest of us.” Then he laughed softly at the surprised look upon her face.
“Oh, rude boy, how hot your faerie blood runs! I am proud of you,” Ilona said. “I see cruelty in you you have yet to even tap. I cannot wait to tell your mother!” Then she grew thoughtful a moment. “Why have you not asked for Lara’s help?”
“I didn’t think a king should run to his mother or father at the first sign of trouble,” Dillon told her.
“So you ran to your grandmother instead?” she replied.
“Mortals know you more for
“Of course I will help you, Dillon,” Ilona said.
“Then let us return to Belmair, Grandmother. I only wish my bride could be there to greet you,” he said sadly.
“The girl is as protected as she can possibly be,” Ilona said. “And if she finally is coerced into entertaining the Yafir lord’s cock, she will appreciate yours so much more when she is returned to you. Your reputation as a lover has seeped forth from Shunnar where your loss is bemoaned, and your stamina revered.”
Dillon laughed, but then he grew serious. “I did protect Cinnia, but I never considered that the Yafir would touch her. That was not simply foolish of me. It was arrogant. I should have put a spell about the castle. In my eagerness to solve this problem I overlooked the obvious.”
“The Yafir are a very difficult faerie race,” Ilona told him. “They have become so used to being reviled that they do not recognize kindness or honesty when they see it. They are probably the most selfish of us all, for they think only of themselves all the time. You held out a hand of friendship, and Ahura Mazda spit on it. If you cannot bring him around, Dillon, you will have no choice but to destroy him and send him into Limbo. They are, it seems, their own worst enemy. But you must try to help them in spite of themselves, for like us they are a faerie race,” she advised him. “Let us go, rude boy.” And with a twist of her delicate wrist and an elegantly pointed finger, she opened a tunnel back to Belmair for them, and together they raced through it from the palace of the Forest Faeries to the Great Hall of the royal castle where Britto almost swooned at the sight of the golden light streaming suddenly into the large chamber as the king of Belmair and his grandmother appeared from out of it.
“Your Majesty!” the steward gasped, swaying upon his feet.
“You’ll get used to all this magic eventually, Britto,” Dillon replied, laughing. “This great lady is my grandmother, Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries.”
Britto bowed low. “Welcome to Belmair, great lady,” he said, his eyes taking in her beauty, and becoming hers in that moment.
“Thank you,” Ilona said in her most dulcet tones. She recognized the steward’s look of admiration and adoration.
“See that my grandmother has proper quarters and women to serve her,” Dillon ordered the steward. “And where is Prince Cirillo?”
“He is with the dragon,” Britto answered. “Shall I send for him?”
“Send for them both,” Dillon answered.
A serving man came with a tray holding goblets of wine for them.
“Delicious,” Ilona said, tasting hers. “My son has spent the hours you have been away seeking my help with his lover,” she noted. “A dragon! I would have never considered such a thing. But then Cirillo has always liked older females.”
“Nidhug is good magic,” Dillon said. “Her heart is a kind one. She is heartbroken that while she carried me to my three dutchies Cinnia was stolen away. She raised my queen, and taught her simple magic and healing skills.”
“That is why they call your wife the sorceress of Belmair?” Ilona said.
“Yes,” Dillon replied. “But she has the ability to be great one day. I will teach her myself. I wish I had already begun her tutelage in stronger magic. Then maybe she might have protected herself from the Yafir lord.”
“Hindsight is a fine gift,” Ilona noted. “Cease your fretting and concentrate on the task at hand.” She looked about her. “This is a good hall, Dillon.”
They sat speaking quietly of mundane matters for almost an hour, and then Cirillo entered the hall. “Mother,” he said, coming quickly up to her, kissing her cheek.
“I scent lust upon you, my son,” Ilona said wickedly.
“I bathed!” he protested.
“Oh, please,” Ilona replied. “Whenever you are in heat you reek of passion. But it pleases me that you are more like me than your father. Where is your dragon?”
“She will be here shortly,” Cirillo said. “She thought you might like to see me alone first.”
“Ah, she is thoughtful,” Ilona remarked.
Nidhug entered the hall quietly, and made her way to where the others were. “Greetings, Your Majesty. Greetings, queen of the Forest Faeries,” she said.
Ilona’s green eyes moved slowly over the dragon. They narrowed, then opened again. Finally she said, “You are really quite lovely.”
“As are you,” Nidhug answered. “I can see from where Cirillo gets his beauty.”
“Enough!” the prince of the Forest Faeries exclaimed. “We have work to do.”
“Do not be rude, Cirillo!” Ilona snapped. “Nidhug and I must become acquainted sooner than later. And I actually believe I might like her.”
“Indeed, Grandmother, and we shall all sit together tonight at the high board and speak on all manner of things. Nidhug will remain for the meal. Now, however, my uncle is correct. We have work to do.”
“Oh, very well,” Ilona agreed. “Just as long as Nidhug and I may become better acquainted,” she purred.
“Assuredly, great queen,” Nidhug murmured back. “And I will expect you to tell me all about Cirillo when he was a little lad. I have an egg of my own. Not yet hatched, of course, and I am not even certain yet of its sex, but I can certainly equate with a mother’s love.” She fluttered her thick purple eyelashes at Ilona.
