“You have made us, made Beldane proud,” Duke Tullio said as he bade farewell. He took her by her shoulders, and kissed both of her cheeks. “Be happy, my child,” he told her. Then he made a formal bow. “I salute you, queen of Belmair.”

“Thank you, my lord uncle,” Cinnia replied. “I am content to have pleased you, and brought honor to Beldane.”

Margisia enveloped Cinnia in a hug. “I am so proud of you, my darling,” she gushed. Then she lowered her voice. “I knew you could do it. Old Dreng is fit to be tied. He’s already gone,” she giggled. “Now, remember what I have taught you. Gather up as much wealth for yourself as possible. And when you want something special that your husband may not be of a mind to give you, withhold yourself from him while teasing him just enough so he believes you are not. But do not give him your body until you get your way, Sapphira. I hope you garnered a great deal when he forced you to change your name. I know you would have never done it otherwise,” she nattered on.

“And do not ruin your figure by bearing him more than one child. Son or daughter, it makes no mind. I would not give your father more than one. A woman’s body is destroyed with childbearing, and when it is you will find your husband runs off to a younger woman whose body has not been ravaged and stretched with new life. Men can be so cruel, my darling Sapphira. Remember that you are the only one who will look after you. Trust no other.” Then Margisia began to weep. “Oh, my darling daughter! To think I shall never see you again! Oh, I cannot bear it! I cannot!”

“Certainly you will come to visit, Sister,” the duke said impatiently. “Now let us take our leave. Our vessel awaits us.” Grasping Margisia’s upper arm he led her to her horse, and helped to boost her into the saddle.

“Goodbye,” Cinnia said. “Travel in safety.” She was more than relieved to have Sapphira’s mother gone. What a wretched woman. No wonder her daughter had turned out the way she had. Cinnia waved, and tried to look sad.

By late afternoon all the wedding guests were gone. Cinnia spent some time with Dillon’s three younger sisters, the oldest of whom was close to her own age. Anoush, daughter of Lara and Vartan of the Fiacre, was a beautiful girl with brown hair and blue eyes. There was a fragility about her partly due to her faerie blood. She was a quiet girl given only to speaking when she had something to say. She was looking forward to returning to Hetar, for she spent her summers in the New Outlands region of Terah with her foster mother, Noss.

“I need to be with my father’s people for at least part of the year,” she explained to Cinnia. “It renews my spirit, and I do not as often see my visions there as I do in other places. I do not like my gift, but I accept it. Sometimes I wish my blood ran only mortal.”

“Yet I owe you a great debt for directing Dillon in the right path so he was able to find me,” Cinnia said to the girl.

Anoush smiled sweetly. “That is the best part of my gift. When I am able to help. I am most grateful for my ability to heal, and do not regret that gift at all.”

Zagiri, Dillon’s middle sister, was a delightful girl with her father’s golden looks. She was pure mortal with not an ounce of magic about her. She looked forward to the day when she would find her true love, and marry. “I love my mother,” she told Cinnia, “but she has a destiny that has only been partly fulfilled. One day she is certain to go away again as she has done before. It’s a good thing I’m nothing like her, and can be here to look after my father and little sister. My father says mother is an amazing and great woman. I suppose she is, but I am glad my faerie blood is dormant. I don’t want to be like Anoush, who is so fragile, or Marzina, who already seems to know too much. I just want a husband to love and children to raise. My grandmother, the lady Persis, is teaching me how to cook. She says a husband will appreciate that I can feed him well if our cook falls ill. She says every girl should know how to cook. Anoush can only cook her potions. And Marzina doesn’t want to learn,” Zagiri concluded.

It was her littlest sister-in-law who delighted Cinnia, however. Marzina was a true faerie child. Dark haired with large violet eyes, she was quick of mind and foot. She was also friendly, impatient and imperious, sometimes all at once. And from the moment she had successfully pronounced her first spell at the wedding feast the previous day, she had become her faerie grandmother’s pet, which pleased her well.

“You are a little sorceress,” she told Cinnia. “But one day I shall be a great sorceress. My grandmother says it will be.”

“Well, your brother has promised he will teach me more,” Cinnia said.

“What can you do now?” Marzina asked.

“I do potions, and I can shape-shift,” Cinnia said.

“Shape-shifting is easy,” Marzina said scornfully. Anizram, change! And suddenly a small green-and-violet bird was fluttering before Cinnia’s face.

Ainnic, change! A tiger cub leaped up to catch the bird between its soft paws.

The bird turned into a bright yellow-and-green butterfly escaping the tiger cub’s gentle grip. The tiger then turned into a net that trapped the butterfly. At once the butterfly became a pair of scissors and the net quickly shifted into a beautiful jewel.

Marzina change!

Cinnia change!

And both the young woman and the girl returned to their own natural forms. Both were laughing.

“You are very good!” Marzina said admiringly. “You shifted quickly enough to counter me. Can we play this game again sometime?” she asked, smiling.

“You are amazing for one so young,” Cinnia told her. “I couldn’t shape-shift properly until I was twelve.”

“We shall become great sorceresses together,” Marzina declared.

She had gained a family, Cinnia thought happily. She had never known her mother, who had died shortly after her birth. Her father while kind was still a distant man whose sole concern was for Belmair. Nidhug had been her only family, and the dragon had raised the girl as tenderly as if she had been her own child. Now suddenly Cinnia had three sisters, each of whom was different, yet interesting. She had a mother-in-law, a faerie grandmother, an uncle who was a faerie prince and a Shadow Prince for a father-in-law. And she had still to meet Lara’s husband, and Dillon’s little brother.

Cinnia realized how truly happy she was. She knew now that had Dillon not been brought to Belmair to be its king, to be her husband, her world would be a very different place. Had she gained her heart’s desire and been selected as Belmair’s reigning queen she would have never been able to stop Ahura Mazda. But now she had a strong husband, a family, who would stand by her side in the battle ahead.

“Will you all stay with me when I enter the Dream Plain?” she asked them that evening after the meal. “All of you, Anoush, Zagiri, Marzina, too, unless you will not allow it, Lara. I would find it comforting to know I was surrounded by loved ones.”

“I do not know if Marzina is old enough for such an experience,” Lara mused.

“Oh, please, let her,” Cinnia begged. “Her magic, while untutored, is already strong. Unless it would frighten her.”

“Please, Mama!”

“I think it would be an excellent experience for her,” Ilona, who had not departed the previous night after all, said.

Lara pretended to consider, and then she said, “Yes!” She turned to her two other daughters. “Girls?” she asked.

“I would rather not,” Zagiri responded. “Magic makes me uncomfortable, Mama. And Belmair seems to reek of magic, or perhaps it is just because you, Kaliq, Dillon and Grandma are all here at once. Please do not be offended, Cinnia,” she said, turning to the older girl with a small smile of apology.

“I understand,” Cinnia told her, returning the smile.

“I will remain,” Anoush said softly. “If necessary I may be able to help.”

“Well,” Ilona said pithily, “I suppose three out of five is not a bad tally.”

“Mother!” Lara looked askance at her faerie parent who shrugged.

“The chamber has been prepared,” Dillon said. “Shall we go?”

Together they exited the family hall where they had eaten their meal. Dillon led them to a chamber high in a tower. The walls were whitewashed, and a large casement window with leaded panes opened to the night sky where Belmair’s twin moons, crescents tonight, were just coming into view. Cinnia had stopped in the apartment she shared with her husband just long enough to allow Tamary and Anke to remove her garments, and help her into a plain white silk sleep garment. Entering the chamber, Cinnia saw it had but a single piece of furniture, a bed, the mattress encased in a sheet, a coverlet atop it.

Dillon stepped up before his wife, and opening his raised hand, allowed a gold chain with a golden charm to drop from his closed fist. The charm was fashioned like a tree in full leaf, and each of the leaves was enameled in a slightly different shade of green. He slipped the chain about Cinnia’s neck. “The tree of life will keep you safe upon the Dream Plain. Do you know what to expect there?”

She nodded. “Mists which will clear to reveal she whom I seek,” Cinnia said.

“You must concentrate upon Arlais, and no other,” Dillon warned her. “Think only of her, and call her name. She will come.”

“Here,” Lara said as she conjured a goblet from the air. “This is frine, and it will aid you in your efforts to sleep. Drink it, my daughter.”

Cinnia took the cup, and drank it all. Then she made herself comfortable upon the bed, which was indeed the most cozy upon which she had ever lain. She looked at the faces of those surrounding her. Dillon. Kaliq. Lara. Ilona. Cirillo. Nidhug. Marzina and Anoush. They crowded about the bed.