The Sorceress of Belmair (18 page)

“No woman has even attained the rank of scholar in Belmair,” Cinnia reminded him. “Such an idea would truly shock the members of the Academy.”

“Then it is time they changed their thinking!” Prentice said.

“Be careful,” she teased him. “If they hear such heresy they will send you to Hetar for certain.” The scholar chuckled.

“Perhaps I would enjoy traveling,” he teased back.

“King of Belmair, heed my call. Come to me from out yon wall,”
Cinnia spoke the simple spell her husband had taught her.

The young king stepped into the chamber. “What is it, my queen?” he asked her.

“I shall never get used to this,” Prentice murmured.

“Look!” And Cinnia showed him the reference she had found.

He read it carefully. “This is wonderful, my darling!” he exclaimed. “We can now be certain that the Yafir and the
wicked ones
are one in the same. I suspect they were not called wicked when they first arrived on Belmair. Is there any reference to what caused them to be exiled?”

“None so far, and I suspect there will be none. Whatever caused Belmair to order the Yafir from our world would not have been important enough to the Belmairans to describe because we are a sensible folk. If we had been banished from some land we would have accepted the directive and gone. It wouldn’t matter to us why. The fact that we were not wanted would have been more than enough for us. That is the reason there is no mention of what caused the Yafir to be banished. The decision was made by the king to do it, and that was all there was to it. It would never have occurred to our people that the Yafir would not obey the king’s command. And can we be certain they did not? Could this disappearance of our women be due to some other magical beings?” Cinnia asked. “Why would the Yafir remain in Belmair if they were unwelcome? Certainly no one has seen them since that time. And if they are still here, where are they?”

“All excellent questions, my queen,” Dillon told her. “Thanks to you we have found the first thread. Now we must follow it until we are able to unravel the entire mystery that has taken hold in Belmair. I believe it is now time to ask my uncle and my father to return from Hetar.” He took Cinnia by the hand, and bidding the scholar farewell, returned them to the castle.

Cinnia was laughing as they reappeared. “Our magical means of transport unnerves poor Prentice,” she said, “but it is so convenient. I want Nidhug to know what I have found. You contact the Shadow Prince and your uncle. I will call the dragon.”

“A fair division of labor,” Dillon agreed.

Nidhug was delighted by what Cinnia had found, and praised her. “You are such a clever girl,” she said. And then, “Cirillo is returning?”

Cinnia shook her head. “You are a shameless dragon,” she scolded. “Here I have been doing all this work, and all you can think about is that handsome faerie.”

“So you admit that he is handsome,” Nidhug said. “But, my little queen, while you have spent your days lazily reading I have watched over Belmair, making certain that the summer days were perfect and sunny, that the rains came only at night, that the fields were free of pests who would destroy the crops, that the crops were bountiful so each of the duchies will have a good harvest, and finally I have seen that the seas were rich with fish, and the beasts of the field flourished. I do not spend my time in idleness even when I nap for a few years or more. Everything is always as it should be in Belmair thanks to me, for it is my duty to protect this little world of ours.”

“It is your nights I was thinking of,” Cinnia teased the dragon. “Does he make love to you as a dragon? How can that be?”

“He transforms himself into a male dragon sometimes,” Nidhug said. “And other times he transforms me into a mortal woman.”

“Oh, my!” Cinnia said.

Nidhug chuckled. “Ah, I see the questions in your eyes, little queen. I will say only that while dragon pleasures and mortal pleasures are delicious, mortal bodies seem to be able to gain more delights. I think your fragile and sensitive skins may have something to do with it, as well as your breasts. Cirillo has given my mortal form fine, big breasts. The Shadow Prince said they were as big as melons and just as sweet.”

Cinnia gasped, and then she begged, “No more, dear Nidhug!”

“You don’t have very big breasts, do you?” the dragon suddenly noted, peering closely at the young woman.

“I will send for you when our guests arrive,” Cinnia said, and then she fled the dragon’s castle, not by means of magic, but by her own feet. She needed to walk through the summer gardens that separated the two castles so that her flushed cheeks would cool and pale. She tried to imagine Nidhug with a mortal body, but she could not. All she could see was a dragon with huge melonlike breasts. It was not an attractive picture, but the more she considered it the funnier it became. By the time she was halfway across her own part of the gardens she was laughing so hard she had to sit down.

It was there Dillon found her wiping away the tears of her hilarity. “Are you all right?” he wanted to know, for he was not certain she wasn’t weeping at first.

“I am fine,” Cinnia told him. And then she related her visit with Nidhug.

“I can only hope our lustful magical natures will not corrupt you,” Dillon said to her with a chuckle. “I realize that your Belmairan nature is more conservative than those found in the world of Hetar. My uncle seems to have found a perfect match in Nidhug. As for my father, he has always appreciated beautiful creatures although I have never before known him to sample the charms of a dragon.”

“Does he not love your mother?” Cinnia asked.

“Aye, although he conceals his love behind the masque of friendship,” Dillon explained. “My mother was born of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, and the Hetarian, John Swiftsword, because such a child of those two people was needed to fulfill a specific destiny. Kaliq has been part of her life from the beginning although she never met him until she left Hetar and fled the Forest Lords. He has struggled with his own love for her to keep her on the path she must travel. He has seen her go to other men, and known it was part of her fate. But even he has admitted to me that he does not know her end. It is, he says, behind a veil that even he cannot pierce.”

“When will I meet her?” Cinnia asked him. “We have been wed now several months. I would have thought she would have come before now.”

“I think she wanted you to get used to having me for a husband before she made her appearance. Although she has worked hard not to play favorites, my siblings tell me, and I know it for truth, that I have always been her favorite,” Dillon said. “We seemed to have this link right from the moment of my birth. I think it was Kaliq’s way of keeping her close while not intruding upon her life as she must live it. When I first went to live at Shunnar it was months before she visited me. She told me when she finally came that she wanted me to get used to living there, to living away from her, to come to love the wonders of the desert kingdom as she once had. And of course she was right, and I did.”

“There is so much about you that I do not know,” Cinnia said. “I wonder if I ever will, Dillon.” She reached out to take his hand, and turning her face to him, she kissed him sweetly. “But I have come to love you.”

He drew her into his embrace, his mouth kissing her slowly, his hunger for her blazing up and catching her in a scorching hold. His hand reached up to fondle her breasts, and he whispered against her lips, “So perfect, Cinnia. Your breasts are so perfect!” He could feel himself growing hard quickly. His manhood beneath his robe began to throb. Dillon stood, drawing Cinnia up with him. His hands about her buttocks, he drew her against him so she might know that his desire was hot. Then he whispered against her ripe mouth, “Remember, Cinnia,
anytime, anywhere.
”

She almost swooned with the heated words, and then she followed his directions, straddling the marble bench upon which they had been sitting; leaning low and forward as she braced herself with her hands, her buttocks elevated. Her heart beat wildly with her excitement as she felt him behind her. Slowly, oh so slowly, he raised her skirts up, up, up until they rested in the curve of the small of her back. The palms of his hands smoothed over the plump cheeks of her bottom. He squeezed the soft flesh. She felt his fingers slipping beneath her, finding her pleasure jewel and teasing at it. She could feel her own wetness, and whimpered with her need.

And then the fingers were withdrawn. She felt his belly starting to press against her as his manhood began to enter her in a single smooth motion that had her gasping. Once sheathed he remained still, and she felt every inch of him, thick and throbbing within her fevered body. About them the birds sang, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of summer flowers. When she could bear it no longer she cried out softly, “Please, Dillon! Please! I can bear no more!”

His hands tightened just imperceptibly about her hips. “Tell me what you feel, Cinnia, my queen. And tell me what you want.”

“I feel you, and you are so hard and so deep. You pulse with your need for me, but you will not satisfy your desires. Why?” she asked of him.

“Because just the sensation of being joined with you gives me pleasure,” he said. “And the thoughts of greater pleasure to come make my lusts burgeon. You must learn to enjoy every bit of our intimacy, my queen, not just race to fulfill your needs. When those needs are satisfied so quickly you have lost much of that which you might have gained simply by exercising a little patience.” Leaning forward he placed a hot kiss on the small of her back.

Cinnia shuddered, and felt her release. “Oh!” she cried, distressed. “I have lost it!”

He laughed softly. “Nay, my queen, we have only just begun to exercise our passions for each other.” He thrust gently within her with several long, smooth strokes.

“Oh!” Her voice was suddenly joyful. “It is still there!”

“Aye, it is. Now let us begin your lesson in patience, my queen,” Dillon said as he began to move himself within Cinnia’s ripe, young body. When she began to evince signs of pleasure he drew back, remaining still within her silken sheath. Reaching out and forward with one hand he found one of her breasts and eased it from the neckline of her gown. He fondled the tender flesh, pulling and then pinching the nipple until she was trembling with her excitement. Then knowing his own patience was slowly waning Dillon sought for and found her pleasure center and began to use it. His manhood moved back and forth, thrusting hard and fast until Cinnia was sobbing with her desperate need to find release, but he wanted her to have as much pleasure as he could give her. And then she cried out, and her body shook as they reached perfection together in an explosion of passion that would leave them both weak for several minutes to come.

Gazing down on them from a window overlooking the gardens, Kaliq of the Shadows smiled to himself. He had taught his son well. The girl was lost in a swirl of ecstasy such as she would have never known with another man. And Dillon had the perfect partner and the perfect wife in Cinnia. “They are an excellent match,” he told his companion.

“Agreed,” Nidhug said. “I was not certain you just wished a kingdom for your son, Kaliq, when you first came to me. I ask your pardon for doubting you, great prince. Dillon is very much the equal to my own darling Cinnia. And they have already begun to decipher the mystery, but I will leave it to them to tell you what they have discovered.”

“Then they have actually found something of worth,” Kaliq replied.

The dragon nodded. Then she turned back to the window. “Oh, how sweet he is. He has taken her in his arms, and is comforting her. He did ride her hard, and in the gardens, too, the naughty boy,” she tittered.

“Let them have their moments together,” Kaliq said. “Cirillo is as always late. He is either arguing with his mother about coming, or some pretty creature has caught his fancy and is keeping him from us.”

A small puff of dark smoke tinged with scarlet came from the dragon’s nostrils, but she said nothing in response.

Kaliq, however, had seen it.
Why, Nidhug is jealous,
he thought, surprised. Then he wondered if the dragon actually cared for the faerie prince. He hoped not for she would be doomed to disappointment. “You do remember that faeries have hard hearts,” he murmured. “They rarely, if ever, give them to another.”

The dragon sighed. “I know,” she replied. “But he is such an incredible lover in whatever form he takes. I cannot help myself. It has been at least a thousand years since I took a lover I actually liked. He amuses me with his irreverent faerie ways, and he is so young, Kaliq. His energy is as boundless as his charm. I know better than to fall in love with him even though I will admit that I am a little in love with him. But just a little, Kaliq. Enough to make the whole experience a tiny bit more piquant,” Nidhug said.

“Take care, my dear,” he advised her. “Your magic is nowhere near as strong as his is. And it is a kinder magic that you possess that fills this world with beauty and peace. Cirillo is like most of his race. Beautiful, charming and totally selfish, with an inborn ability to cause trouble even without meaning to do so.”

At that very moment the subject of their conversation appeared. “Hallo,” Cirillo said brightly. “Have I missed anything?”

“Only Dillon and Cinnia in delightful and energetic conjunction in the gardens below,” the Shadow Prince said.

Cirillo flew to the windows. “Where are they?” he asked. “There is no one down there at all. Just flowers, birds and butterflies.”

“Ah, then,” Nidhug said, “they are probably on their way into the castle now. Britto!” she called to the castle’s steward, and he hurried into the chamber from the corridor where he had been awaiting their summons.

“Yes, my lady dragon? How may I serve you?” the steward asked.

“Tell the king and queen that we are here awaiting them,” Nidhug said.

“At once!” Britto replied, and bustled away.

“You have not greeted me,” Cirillo pouted to Nidhug.

“You did not greet me, and you should have,” the dragon said. “This is my world, Cirillo of the Forest Faeries, not yours. Where are your manners?”