Dillon gazed down. Everything was very green, and it reminded him of Terah except there were not great cliffs and fjords. The woodlands below them now were just coming into full leaf, and the few planted fields were hazy with new growth. The meadows housed cattle and sheep, but curiously he saw no sign of life other than around the two castles. “Where are the villages and the people?” he asked Nidhug.

“There are few and they are widely scattered,” the dragon answered.

“Is it like this on all the islands?” Dillon wanted to know.

“Aye, it is,” was the answer.

“Why?” Dillon asked the dragon.

“I don’t know,” Nidhug admitted. “For the last few hundred years the young women on all the islands have been disappearing. The men have had no wives to wed, and fewer and fewer children are being born. Some women are returned to us when they are old, and can no longer have children or be of use. They are not able to tell us where they have been, and are horrified to find themselves old. If it continues, Belmair’s civilization will die. That is why I trained Cinnia to become a sorceress, but as powerful as she is, she needed a husband who was even more powerful. Your father knew it, and that is why he brought you here to me to be Belmair’s new king. Together you and Cinnia can work to solve the mystery of where our young women have gone, and correct the situation so our population can once again thrive.” She turned north now over the great sea, and they were soon flying over a mountainous island, the highest peaks of which were still covered with snow. “That is Belia. It is the smallest of the duchies.”

“Have you no idea of who is stealing your women?” Dillon inquired. “You have great magic yourself, I am told.”

“My magic is fairly limited to protecting and serving Belmair, and its kings,” Nidhug replied. “The magic of the Shadow Princes is the greatest of all magicks.”

“Did you know all of this?” Dillon asked Kaliq.

The Shadow Prince smiled enigmatically. “Solve this conundrum, and you will be the greatest sorcerer of your time, Dillon, my son.”

Dillon laughed softly. “That I might be a bit of dust in a corner when you tell my mother about all of this.” He chuckled.

“She will soon have her own problems to solve,” the prince replied with a small smile. “And she knows I would never see you harmed.”

“You won’t be here,” Dillon reminded his father.

“My powers extend to Belmair. You have but to call me,” Kaliq answered him.

“That is a great comfort to me,” Dillon said drily, “but as I recall you have taught me to puzzle out my own problems.” Turning away from the Shadow Prince, the younger man looked down to study the sea as they flew.

Prince Kaliq of the Shadows nodded, satisfied. Between them, he and Lara had raised their son well. Dillon would be a great king for Belmair, and the mystery would be solved because Dillon was not a man to give up. Belmair could not be allowed to die, and Kaliq was himself concerned as to who was doing this, and more important, why?

“There is Beldane,” Nidhug called to them. “It is an island of mostly fields and glens. The hunting is excellent on Beldane, and the duke has many lodges scattered about his duchy for guests. Autumn, of course, is the best time for it.”

Turning east they flew over the next largest island to Belmair, Beltran, a vast hilly and wooded landscape. Below them a small group of sailing boats was setting out from a harbor below a castle.

“Dreng comes early,” Kaliq noted.

“I believe he thinks one of his little grandsons will be chosen to be king for he is the only one of the dukes with male progeny. He will be to Belmair by sunset, for when summoned by me the dukes’ boats come by magic in just a short time. We cannot have that,” Nidhug said. “Storm brew!”

Suddenly below them, the thunderclouds began to roll swiftly in. The sea grew frothy as the waves rose, crashing wildly on the shore, and the lightning crashed about the boats. One vessel was struck, and its mast caught fire. The little fleet struggled back to the harbor, and anchored to ride out the weather.

“It won’t clear until dawn,” Nidhug said in a well-satisfied voice and she chuckled. “Dreng is bold to think he can make my decision for me.”

“How will he feel when he learns I am king?” Dillon asked.

“Surprised. Possibly resentful, but he will accept my will for there is no other choice, Your Majesty,” the dragon answered. “When your father came to see me last night, I was amazed afterward that I hadn’t realized that someone not born of Belmair must be chosen to follow Fflergant if we are to solve our difficulties. And that someone must have even greater powers than Cinnia. Whoever, whatever, is taking Belmair’s young females must be stopped.”

“Agreed,” Dillon responded, “but I am more curious as to why they are being taken. There is something wicked here on Belmair.”

Having completed their tour of the islands, the dragon returned them to the royal castle where she once again condensed herself into a smaller size. “Let us now feast,” the dragon said. “And afterward your father and I will preside over your mating with Cinnia. How are you getting along? She is a charming girl, isn’t she?”

“She is spirited, much like my younger sister Zagiri,” Dillon noted. Then he told Nidhug and the prince of his attempts to charm Cinnia, and of how she had rebuffed him.

“A kitten into a viper.” Nidhug chuckled. “The naughty girl, but I am quite enchanted that you turned the viper into pink snowflakes, Your Majesty. It is obvious that Prince Kaliq has taught you about women, as well as magic.”

“Do not women possess a magic of their own that is to be courted?” Dillon asked her with a smile.

The dragon rolled her beautiful eyes, and her eyelashes fluttered coquettishly. “I am, for the first time, envious of a human female,” she said.

Her two companions chuckled. They entered the Great Hall of the castle. It had a high ceiling with beams carved and gilded with both gold and silver, as well as painted in red and blue. The arched windows lining the hall on both sides were recessed into the stone walls. The glass in them was clear with designs showing pastoral scenes in stained glass. Beautifully woven silk and wool tapestries hung on the gray stone walls between the windows. There were three great fireplaces in the hall, one on either side of the chamber, and the third behind the high board. The floors were slabs of gray stone.

The hall was empty but for Cinnia, who waited for them before the high board. She was garbed in a simple loose purple silk gown with a boat neckline and flowing sleeves. A thin chain of gold links decorated with pale amethyst crystals sat upon her hips. Her long black hair was pulled back into a single strand. She looked both fragile and strong at the same time. Kneeling before Dillon, she said, “I bid you welcome home, Your Majesty. The meal is ready at your command.”

Dillon raised her up. “Do not kneel to me again, Cinnia. If it is Belmairan tradition that a wife kneel before her husband, it is a tradition that I will not continue. You are a great sorceress, and you are my wife. I mean to make you queen.”

Her green eyes lit up with joy, but then the happiness faded away, and she shook her head at him. “I would be nothing but a consort if Your Majesty desired it, but I would have no authority even over our household. In Belmair, all is the king’s.”

Dillon turned to the dragon. “Is this a tradition that is written in stone?” he asked.

“Nay, it is not. But it has always been done this way,” the dragon answered him.

Dillon considered, then said, “As I am not Belmairan born, but am now nonetheless the undisputed king of Belmair, could I not make this change, and allow others to understand this is my way of honoring Cinnia, the great sorceress of Belmair, who is now my wife? Whose help I will need if I am to govern wisely and well?”

“There will at first be a certain amount of grumbling,” the dragon replied, “but I believe that to honor Cinnia as your first official act as Belmair’s king would quickly be seen as respecting Belmair and its traditions.”

“Then I shall do it,” Dillon said. He turned to Cinnia again. “You understand that the final word in all things but the household will be mine?”

“I do, Your Majesty! Thank you!” Her green eyes were shining now.

“And you will call me by my name when we are in private, or in an informal setting?” he asked smiling at her.

She nodded. “I will, Your…Dillon.”

“Then it is settled, and now please see that the meal is served. Our guests and I are hungry,” Dillon told her with a grin.

Taking her arm, he escorted her up onto the dais and seated her to his left at the high board. The prince sat on his right, and the dragon to Kaliq’s right. Cinnia signaled the servants to begin serving the meal, and Dillon watched, amazed at the separate menu of foods brought to the dragon. When the meal had concluded, and Nidhug had consumed the final of her eight sherry-soaked whipped-cream cakes, a minstrel came into the hall and sang for them. A serving woman appeared and whispered something into Cinnia’s ear. She nodded.

“It is time for me to go and prepare for our formal mating ritual, my lord,” she said rising from her seat. “You will be sent for when I am ready.” Then before he might speak she hurried away.

“What preparations will she make?” Dillon asked Nidhug.

“She will be thoroughly bathed so her body is pleasing to you,” the dragon replied. “The ritual consists of you coupling with her before witnesses, in this case the prince and me. Once you have been joined none has the right to separate you. This is why I prevented Dreng from arriving tonight. Your father accepted you as his successor. She accepted you for her husband, and as her king. You took Fflergant’s last breath. Now the last thing to be done is the joining. Once that is accomplished the deed is done, you will be king of Belmair until the last of the purple sands in your life glass is gone to the bottom. From the looks of the glass, that will be many years hence, Your Majesty.”