Watching her come, Tavey marveled at the beauty and the magnificence of his mistress. He stepped forward immediately as she landed, bowing. “Your oil bath is ready, mistress. And Sarabeth has prepared a small breakfast for you,” he told her.

“I will soak my scales first,” Nidhug told him. “Will there be cinnamon rolls?”

“Only three trays, mistress. The cook thought that while you would be hungry this morning, you would not want to feel too full. She’s done a nice kettle of porridge, two hams and four dozen boiled eggs for you, as well.”

“How well you all care for me,” Nidhug said, feeling a bit sentimental. “Aye, I will need to be on my toes this morning, given what I must tell Fflergant and his daughter. Send for the dukes. They must be here tomorrow morning to be told the name of the next king. Now, I must have my soak. My scales are dry from the wind.” She hurried off.

When she had soaked for an hour up to her jowls in the warm oil, Nidhug felt refreshed. Arising from the large oval marble tub the dragon let her serving women gently rub the oil into her skin and blot away the excess. Then she repaired to her dining room for her morning meal, and having finished it she prepared to depart for the king’s castle. She would walk across the gardens that separated the two castles, giving her time to consider exactly how she would approach the matter of succession. By the time she had reached Fflergant’s castle and the throne room, she knew exactly what she must say.

“I called for you almost a full week ago,” the old king said by way of greeting.

“And good morrow to you, Your Majesty,” the dragon replied. She glanced at the hourglass and caught her breath. He was almost gone.

“Who will follow me?” Fflergant demanded to know. “Cinnia tells me that the dukes have no sons but one. What of grandsons? The dukes must have grandsons.”