that there are more folk like Tavey in Belmair than there are those with closed minds. But the king is right. Now is not the time to put them to a test of faith. You are home safe. The king has played the game well with Ahura Mazda. He does not need the world to know it. He wants peace between the two races inhabiting Belmair. If Ahura Mazda will not make that peace then a new lord will be found who will. What is past cannot be changed. We must all move forward, my child.”
“You speak to me, don’t you?” Cinnia said.
“Aye, I do,” Nidhug said. “You are not impure.
“It is so hard for me to put aside the old ways,” Cinnia replied. “I want to, but it is so very, very difficult, Nidhug.”
“I know,” the dragon agreed. “Sadly there are things that even magic cannot help, change or cure, and your dilemma is one of them. But you are strong, Cinnia, and I know you want to be happy again. You can be if you will let go of the misery surrounding you,” Nidhug said. “Each time it rises up in your memory, force it back with another and more important thought.”
“It is so difficult for me to put away the pictures in my head of taking pleasures with Ahura Mazda. He aroused me, Nidhug. I cried with the delight he gave me.”
“’Twas only your body responding to the stimulus of his passion,” Nidhug said drily. “It was nothing more, my child.”
“I feel guilt for the enjoyment I gained with him,” Cinnia answered.
“I will wager that Dillon feels no guilt for the enjoyment he gained from Sapphira’s ripe body,” Nidhug said wickedly. “And do not, my dear child, tell me that because he was a man it was his right but that you must suffer. Or worse yet that women should only enjoy pleasures with their husbands.” The dragon made a moue with her mouth and gave a delicate shudder.
“That is the kind of talk that got the Hetarians banished,” Cinnia half teased.
“Well,” the dragon huffed as she popped a meat pie into her mouth, “I am the Great Dragon of Belmair, and I cannot be banished.” Reaching for the duck, she tore it in two and ate half.
“Delicious! Sarabeth always flavors her duck with orange and plum.” Nidhug smacked her lips, and quickly devoured the other half of the bird.
Cinnia reached for one of the little pink iced cakes and took a bite. Then she sipped at the camomile tea, which had been flavored with honey, and was very soothing. “I suppose since there is really nothing I can do to change any of this I had best accept it, and as you have advised me, move on with my life. But I really do hate being called Sapphira,” Cinnia said.
“Before they rescued you, we discussed how you might change your name,” Nidhug said. “Just before Sapphira weds the king have her publicly announce she is honoring her predecessor by changing her name to Cinnia Sapphira. It will be considered a grand gesture worthy of a queen, and if Dillon calls you Cinnia in public no one will be the wiser. And by retaining the name that Tullio’s family gave Sapphira you will not give rise to any suspicions.”
“Convince Dillon to have a small wedding,” Cinnia said.
“Nay, you must have a great celebration in the spring, once the winter has left the land,” Nidhug said. “It would be very much out of character for Sapphira to want a small, discreet affair. She will want to trumpet her triumph throughout all of Belmair.” The dragon reached for the remaining meat pie of the half dozen Tavey had brought her.
“I cannot go about being this woman for the rest of my life,” Cinnia complained.
“You must be her until the wedding. Afterward your change in character will be put down to your happiness,” the dragon advised. She drained her goblet and licked the last crumb of meat pie from her lips.
“The spring is coming,” Cinnia said. “Dillon and I rode out today, and the snows are gone from the hills. We argued, and he rode off.”
“He’ll be home for dinner,” Nidhug said with a chuckle. “They always come home for dinner.”
“Does Cirillo?” Cinnia asked mischievously.
“I would not miss a meal at my beautiful dragon’s board,” Cirillo said as he came without knocking into the room. He took Nidhug’s claw up and kissed it tenderly.
“You are outrageously handsome, Uncle,” Cinnia told the faerie.
“Do not tell him that!” the dragon cried. “He is vain enough as it is, my child.”
But her beautiful eyes were devouring him as she spoke, and the looks he cast at her were just as heated and all encompassing.
“I suppose I had best go home,” Cinnia said, but neither of them seemed to notice her at all, and so she departed Nidhug’s privy chamber. In the corridor she met Tavey. “Will you have someone bring my horse back to its stable? I think I shall walk home through our gardens.”
“At once, my lady,” Tavey said, mindful of the other servants bustling about.
Cinnia let herself out through a small door that opened directly into the shared gardens between the two castles. The air was still, and it was quiet. Here and there she noticed that green shoots were making their way through the soil. It all looked dead for the most part, but Cinnia knew within a very few weeks the gardens would be lush and green; that beneath the soil lurked pulsing life in a rainbow of dazzling colors. She had missed this most of all while confined in Yafirdom. From what she had been told of Sapphira she doubted very much that her little garden would be tended.
But it didn’t matter now, and she had to put her sojourn from her conscious thoughts. She had to start living her life once again. She had a man who loved her enough to defy everything in order to restore her to his arms. And she had treated him so badly these past weeks, Cinnia thought. Still he had been patient until today when he had ridden off in anger. Well, she would make it right with him tonight, she decided with a smile. The truth was when she thought about it she had missed taking pleasures.
“Where have you been?” he asked her curtly as she came into their little family hall. “I was worried.”
She went to him and kissed his lips softly. “I was with Nidhug,” she told him.
His arms went about her. “I missed you,” he said, his eyes scanning her face.
“’Twas you, my lord, and not I, who rode away in a temper,” she reminded him.
“You can sometimes be a difficult woman,” he replied. Reaching out, he ran the back of his hand down her cheek.
Cinnia swallowed hard. “It is difficult,” she whispered low, “but I am trying. And I believe we must begin preparing for our wedding, my lord.”
The joyful light that sprang into his eyes almost brought him to tears. “I will do whatever you want!” he told her.
Cinnia smiled, tears pricking at her own eyelids. “Sapphira of Beldane would want a lavish wedding,” she said softly so no other could hear. “It would be out of keeping for it to be any less than grand, my lord. It has not been easy being this woman, but before her happiness turns her into a gentler lady more in keeping with the true Cinnia, she will have her magnificent wedding.”
“You are clever, my sorceress,” he murmured against her mouth, and he kissed her-a slow, deep kiss that set her heart racing.
“Hush, my lord,” she cautioned him. “Do not in your happiness reveal the truth.”
“And this time all those I love will surround us,” Dillon said.
“Belmair’s nobility will see a gathering of magical folk such as it has never before seen.”
Cinnia laughed aloud. “They will be both fascinated and repelled at the same time, but it is unlikely anyone asked will refuse to attend. Poor Dreng. He will be so disappointed that your bride is not one of his kin.”
“He knew he had lost that opportunity the moment he saw Sapphira,” Dillon replied wisely. “Still, he is certain to take credit for my giving up Cinnia, and pressing me to take a new wife.” Dillon chuckled. “If he only knew, my love. If he only knew.”
But of course Dreng of Beltran did not know, and while as predicted he was chagrined by Dillon’s choice, he was nonetheless relieved the king had finally made it.
