The Sorceress of Belmair (42 page)

“Sapphira sounds very bold,” Cinnia murmured.

“She was bold,” Nidhug said. “She made it clear that she wanted the king. That is why I am certain she has settled in quite nicely with the Yafir lord. Once she gained the lay of the land she would come to terms with it, for Sapphira may be venal, but I do not believe anyone could call her stupid.”

“That is what Dillon has told me,” Cinnia said thoughtfully. “It is true?”

“Of course it is truth,” Nidhug responded impatiently. “Why would you doubt the king’s word, my child?”

“Because he has manipulated the law to suit his purposes,” Cinnia said stubbornly.

“All men are capable of lying,” Nidhug remarked. “But I do not believe the king would ever lie to you, Cinnia. His love for you is such that he moved heaven and earth to find you. And then when he found you, he found a way to bring you home. You are a fortunate woman to have such love lavished upon you. True love such as King Dillon has for you, Cinnia, is rare. It should be cherished, not callously tossed aside.”

“Have you found love with Prince Cirillo?” Cinnia said slyly.

“He is faerie. I am dragon,” Nidhug replied. “And we are speaking of you, not me, my child.”

“Is it forbidden somewhere that you cannot love one another simply because of your differences?” Cinnia asked softly.

“We take pleasures together,” Nidhug allowed.

“Is not love required for pleasures?” Cinnia probed.

“You know from your own experience that it is not,” the dragon said sharply.

“I have heard the rumors since my return. Rumors of a passion shared by both you and my husband’s uncle,” Cinnia murmured. “Are they truth?”

“We take pleasures together,” Nidhug said stubbornly.

“Dragon, answer me! Remember who I am,” Cinnia said.

“Sorceress of Belmair, remember ’tis I who have taught you what little you know,” the dragon responded. “Now let us return to your problem.”

A light knock sounded upon the privy chamber door.

“Come in!” Nidhug called. “Ah, Tavey, bless you. I am just in the mood for a light repast. What has Sarabeth sent us?” The dragon viewed the tray eagerly. “Meat pies! A roasted duck! Fruit jellies and a bowl of baked apples! Did you bring something for my guest, Tavey?”

“I have brought Queen Cinnia a little plate of iced cakes and camomile tea,” Tavey said with a little bow.

“The lady Sapphira, Tavey,” the dragon corrected her servant.

“If you wish, mistress,” Tavey replied.

“What do you mean,
if I wish?
” the dragon demanded to know.

“Mistress, I have served you several hundred years, and I believe I have come to know you well,” Tavey said. “Even if you had made your peace with the lady Sapphira you would not allow her the privilege of your privy chamber. Nor would that lady have known you well enough to instruct me to bring refreshment as she entered your house.”

“You’re a busybody!” Nidhug said.

“I am observant as a good servant should be,” Tavey said with a small smile. “And I understand the king’s need for secrecy, given the narrow minds in Belmair.”

“You are not repelled by me?” Cinnia asked him.

“I see nothing repellent,” Tavey replied. “I see only my queen.”

“Thank you,” Cinnia said, and tears filled her eyes.

“I will withdraw now, and continue my duties,” Tavey told them, and departed the dragon’s privy chamber.

“You see!” Nidhug said triumphantly.

“He is your dear and loyal retainer, and has known me my whole life,” Cinnia responded. “His heart is good, but even he knows the dangerous path we travel.”

“And he will keep the secret. Cinnia, my child, aye, the path is fraught with peril, but believe me when I tell you 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.
You
never gave your heart to the Yafir lord.
He
took your body, but that is all he was able to take from you, Cinnia. It cannot be changed. Now you must move on. Dillon could have deserted you, left you with the Yafir, and no criticism would have been leveled at him. But he did not. He sought for you. Brought you home. Has protected you. Now give him what he needs to know that all is well again between you. Give him your heart, for you have his, my child.”

“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.

Chapter 15

A
HURA
M
AZDA
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.
Never!
”

“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. Sapphira 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 to 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 Lands 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.

“How is my little brother?” Dillon wanted to know.

“His father’s son in all ways. He will be a good Dominus one day,” Lara said.

“He is obviously not your favorite,” Dillon teased her.

“I love Taj,” Lara said, “but I find him almost dull. While Zagiri has no magic in her she is lively and full of fun. Taj is very serious, and his grandmother, the lady Persis, encourages him to self-importance. I have spoken to Magnus on this, but he says Taj will outgrow it. I do not think he will. He is very impressed that his big brother is now a king, and hopes to visit you eventually.”

“I will welcome him, and perhaps I can even help him to understand that being a king is not all grandeur, but a great responsibility,” Dillon told his mother.

“I like your Cinnia,” Lara said. “You were fortunate to be able to retrieve her.”

“You know it would have been far more difficult had Sapphira not been her double,” Dillon replied. “But even if she hadn’t I would have taken my wife back.”

“But this way you have avoided conflict with the Yafir until you are ready. When planning a campaign it is always wise to have the advantage,” Lara said. “Ahura Mazda is content believing he has bested you, and you are content because you have Cinnia back. It was a piece of good fortune, and well done, my son.”

“I have placed you and my sisters beneath my protection spell. The Yafir lord is bold, and he will learn of the festivities here in Belmair. I understand him well enough to know he would enjoy stealing one of my sisters in order to prove to me once again that he can do whatever he pleases, and I cannot stop him.”

“But you can!” Lara said. “You have far more power than any lowly Yafir.”

“Aye, Mother, I do,” Dillon agreed with her. “But Ahura Mazda is bitter over Belmair’s treatment of his people. And it was indeed unfair. I will heal this breach between these two peoples because they need each other. Neither can survive without the other although neither realizes it right now.”

The royal castle was filled to capacity by the day before the wedding. Duke Tullio and his sister, Margisia, had arrived. Cinnia had been nervous at their coming, but Dillon had enough of Sapphira’s memories he could give to her; and he made certain they had little time with Cinnia. He had darkened her eyes, too, for while no one else was likely to realize it he knew that certainly Sapphira’s mother would know her own child had dark green eyes, and not light green ones.

The night before the marriage was to be celebrated the Great Hall was filled to capacity with all the nobility of Belmair and their families. A great feast was served. There was wonderful entertainments. And then the king stood up at the high board, and the hall grew silent. “My bride to be has something to say to all of you,” he said. He offered Cinnia his hand and she stood up to face the hall.

She wore a deep pink silk gown with flowing sleeves that had a wide square neckline. The garment was simple in style, and yet it suited her. Her black hair was contained in a delicate gold caul studded with tiny diamonds. “Tomorrow,” she began, “I, Sapphira of Beldane, will marry the king and become your queen. This should not be but for a tragedy we all know, but I shall not speak of on this happy night. I am said to resemble the good sorceress of Belmair, and so in her honor, that you may never forget her, I have this day added her name to mine. I shall be known from this time forward as Cinnia Sapphira.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the hall erupted with clapping. Smiling, Cinnia sat down, and as she did she saw the looks of complete surprise upon the faces of Duke Tullio and his sister, Margisia. Sapphira’s mother leaned over and hissed at her angrily.

“How could you do such a thing?” she demanded.

“It was the right thing to do, madam,” Cinnia said. “The former queen was not my enemy. I did not even know her although we were distantly related by blood. And it made the king happy. Is it not my duty to make him happy?”

Lady Margisia glared, irritated. “You do your family a disservice by this foolish and emotional action. They will not call you Cinnia Sapphira. You will be remembered as Cinnia! Cinnia, a creature made impure by the Yafir!” She shuddered with her revulsion. “I cannot believe you did not think this through.”

“The king wants peace with the Yafir, madam. Is it not better that the unfortunate incident of the king’s first wife be forgotten?” Cinnia said quietly.

“He only chose you because you look like
her,
” Margisia said pettily.

“He chose me for a mistress. It is I, Sapphira of Beldane, who has made him love me, madame. It is I, Sapphira of Beldane, who will be married to the king tomorrow, and crowned Belmair’s queen. As queen I hold a modicum of power. Be careful you do not offend me lest I banish you from my presence forever. I know who I am, and it matters not to me by what name I am called. Why should it matter to you?”

“You have grown weak,” Margisia sneered.

“Nay, I grow stronger each day because of the power of love. You have no love for me, nor does my uncle. I was a thing to be bartered to the highest bidder. Well, madam, you have gotten the highest price for me. Yet you are not satisfied.”

“A woman is supposed to be of use to her family, and how else can she be but by making a good marriage,” Margisia said.

“Is my marriage to the king not good enough for you, Mother?” Cinnia asked her wickedly. And then she said, “I grow tired of this conversation.” She turned away from the lady Margisia and toward Lara, who was seated on her other side.

Do you speak the silent language?
Lara asked Cinnia.

Aye, Nidhug taught me when I was a little girl,
Cinnia answered.