15
AHURA MAZDA debated on whether he should tell his pregnant youngest wife that her rival would soon be marrying King Dillon of Belmair. But finally the streak of cruelty in him that he could never suppress brought him to taunt her one day when she had been particularly difficult with his other women and the servants.
“Dillon of Belmair is well rid of you,” he told her, sneering. “’Tis to be hoped you can birth me a daughter instead of another son. It took you long enough to get with child. Let us hope Sapphira will prove more fertile when she marries the king next month.”
Arlais and Minau looked up, surprised by their husband’s words.
“Dillon is marrying Sapphira?” the false Cinnia said in a cold and deadly voice.
“Aye,” Ahura Mazda said. “It is to be the finest, grandest wedding ever seen in Belmair. The king’s mother, stepfather, his siblings and the Shadow Prince are all coming. And the faerie prince has convinced his own mother to attend. Belmair’s nobility are all agog, and the royal castle will be filled to overflowing with all the guests.”
Sapphira was speechless with her outrage.
“I am told the king’s sisters are very beautiful. Perhaps I shall steal one of them, and take a seventh wife,” Ahura Mazda continued.
“There are seven days in the week,” Arlais murmured drily.
The Yafir lord laughed, giving her a wicked wink.
“Take another woman into this house,” the false Cinnia said angrily, “and you will never enter my bed again! I should sooner end up in the Mating Market than share you with another, my lord.”
“Give me a son, you little witch, and you will,” he threatened her.
Reaching out she grabbed a small brass bowl and threw it at him before bursting into tears. “Oh, how could you be so cruel to me?” she sobbed, her hands going to her distended belly as if she were protecting it and the child within.
At once the other women gathered about her, stroking her, comforting her. Arlais gave their husband an arch look that warned him to cease his torture of his youngest wife.
But then the tears stopped, and the false Cinnia said, “Tell me what you have heard about the wedding. I want to know everything.”
“Will it not upset you?” Minau asked. “You do not want to compare it to your own wedding to King Dillon, which must have been wonderful.”
“It was hurried, in the presence of the dying Fflergant…my father…and there was nothing magnificent about it. And here again I am a wife without any celebration,” she complained bitterly.
“Ceremony is not necessary among us,” Ahura Mazda said. “It is enough that I said I took you for my wife. That is how it is among the Yafir.”
“Well, there should be more, and believe you me if I give you a daughter there will be! No one is going to tell my child that she is a wife because they said so,” the false Cinnia declared. “There is nothing wrong with a little pomp, my lord.”
“Pomp,” he sneered. “How very Belmairan you are, my precious.”
“I did not ask you to steal me away,” she cried angrily at him.
“I took you to spite Dillon of the Shadows,” he replied with brutal frankness. “That idealistic young fool with his bleating for peace! Does he believe that he can wipe away centuries of intolerance and injustice by merely holding out a hand in supposed friendship? I will never make peace with Belmair.
“I think you are wrong, my lord,” Arlais said quietly.
He rounded on her furiously. “You dare to question my decisions, woman?”
“Nay, my lord, you misunderstand me,” Arlais responded, not in the least intimidated by her husband. “But it grows more difficult to maintain our bubbles as each year passes. And our bubbles are overcrowded, and we have not the abilities now to enlarge them or build more. Yafir magic has weakened because of the Belmairan blood running through the veins of our children.
“And the Belmairans population has declined with the loss of their women of childbearing age. We could help each other, and there is more than enough land for all. King Dillon holds out the hand of friendship to the Yafir. Why do you slap it away, my good lord? Will you not at least speak with him?” Arlais asked quietly.
“I know the problems we face,” he told her. “But soon we shall be able to take Belmair for ourselves. We will not have to share it. We will drive the remaining Belmairans either into the sea, or to Hetar. I don’t care. Be patient, wife. It will eventually all be ours.”
Arlais said nothing more. Her husband was wrong. The dragon had brought Dillon to Belmair for a purpose. And that purpose was not to lose Belmair to the Yafir. Sadly, Ahura Mazda’s hatred of the Belmairans was such that he could see nothing but his own desires and plans for revenge. King Dillon, however, having decided to bring the Yafir back into Belmair’s society, would not be deterred. Arlais decided to speak with her eldest sons, Behrooz and Sohrab, about the situation. It was time that the other Yafir were asked their opinions about a possible peace and her two eldest sons were the men to do it. Both were respected by their fellow Yafir, and neither sought their father’s high office, but if it became necessary to replace him, Behrooz and Sohrab would not quarrel over the position. Knowing her sons Arlais knew they would probably play a game of chance, the winner taking all. And they would ask their youngest brother, Nasim, to referee. Nasim was considered a great artist by the Yafir. Politics was the furthest thing from his mind. Arlais felt no guilt over what she proposed doing. She was the first wife, and she had loved her Yafir lord for centuries. She wanted what was best for him. For their people. And she would protect their household. If Cinnia would only give Ahura Mazda the daughter he so desired it would be possible to divert him.
News of the royal wedding to come filtered down into Yafirdom for the Yafir males were always secretly visiting the various corners of Belmair. Cinnia awaited each detail avidly, personally rewarding the bearers of news lavishly. King Dillon had decreed the wedding day to be a holiday for all in Belmair. The wedding guests, other than family, had been limited only three days at the castle. The day before, the day of and the day after the wedding. Gifts were pouring in from all over Belmair. The king’s family had already arrived from Hetar.
Lara had come with her daughters, Anoush, Zagiri and Marzina. Magnus Hauk and his only son and heir, Taj, would remain in Terah, for it was not thought wise for them to leave. Dillon was delighted to see his sisters once again. He was closest to the two elder, for he had shared a life with them before he had gone to Shunnar in the Shadow kingdom to be tutored in the sorcery that came so naturally to him.
Anoush was in her late teens. She showed no inclination toward marriage, but Dillon knew it would take a special man to husband Anoush, who was an amazing healer and had visions of the future. Her talents frightened most men. Several years younger, Zagiri was a golden girl whose greatest desire was to find a husband and wed. She had absolutely no magic in her at all, which was frankly to her mother a great relief. Marzina, his youngest sister, Dillon knew least of all. Dark-haired, violet eyed, Marzina was a secretive girl, but her nature was one of utter sweetness, according to her mother. She had been born the twin of Magnus Hauk’s heir, but she was not his child.
She had been conceived by force upon the Dream Plain, and her father was Kol, the Twilight Lord, now imprisoned deep within his own castle in the Dark Land for that particular crime. When Lara had seen this unexpected second child spring from her womb she had been shocked, especially given Marzina’s exotic coloring. But Ilona had quickly declared the child resembled a relation who was a Nix, a magical water faerie. And no one had questioned her. Kaliq knew, and Dillon knew. Magnus Hauk did not, and he adored having two daughters, one all golden like him, the other dark like a faerie ancestor. But unlike the evil Kol, Marzina exuded light and goodness.
“Where does her talent lie?” Dillon asked his mother curiously.
“I believe she will be like me with her magic,” Lara told her eldest son. “She is already doing simple shape- shifting.” Her voice was prideful.
“Perhaps it is the influence of her Nix ancestor,” Dillon teased his mother.
“Perhaps it is,” Lara agreed, her beautiful green eyes twinkling with the shared joke. “She is unique among my daughters,” Lara said quietly.
