The Sorceress of Belmair. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”
“If she is to bathe, then I should like to bathe also,” Dillon said, but the dragon shook her head.
“Nay, not until afterward. Cinnia’s body must be imprinted with your natural scent so it will always recognize you,” the dragon explained.
“Belmairans have sensitive skin,” the prince explained to his son. “Once her skin has been imprinted by yours, it will always recognize you even if you scent yourself.”
“How odd,” Dillon murmured low. Then he said to Kaliq, “What other little surprises are in store for me?”
Kaliq shrugged. “I have never lived in Belmair,” he replied.
“Is Cinnia a virgin?” Dillon asked the dragon.
If a creature could looked shocked, Nidhug certainly did at the query. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“It is not a requirement in either Terah or Hetar that a girl be a virgin on her marriage. That she cleve to her husband once she is, is expected,” Dillon said. “I ask because a virgin would require more gentleness, more care, than a girl who has experienced passion a time or more. Is she aware of the differences between bodies male and female? Does she have any idea of what to expect?”
“Aye, she knows what is required,” Nidhug answered him. “I have taught her myself. Knowledge she has. Experience she is lacking.” The dragon chuckled. “Again, I must express my envy for my pupil. Your father’s prowess as a lover has extended even here to Belmair. I can but imagine what his son, and the son of a faerie woman, is like.”
“For Cinnia’s sake,” Dillon asked his two companions, “can you render yourselves invisible if you must be within the chamber? I have made love to women in my father’s hall surrounded by his brothers and their women. But this will be her first experience, and I think she