“I will not wed a Hetarian,” Cinnia said. “They are a cursed race, Nidhug, and you are mad to even suggest it. He will bring discord to Belmair. Is that not why we sent his ancestors from our world? If you try to force me to this I will find a way to kill him.”

“The Sorceress of Belmair should be wed only to a great sorcerer,” Nidhug told the girl in a quiet voice. “It was your ancestors who exiled the dissenters from this world, sending them to the place you called Hetar, and now you scornfully refer to them as Hetarians. But that world already had a people upon it. People much like the Belmairans. They are Terahns, and they called their world Terah. They prefer peace to war. They are artisans and simple folk content to be with themselves. And until recently the two peoples knew little of each other. In Hetar, except for those who call themselves Coastal kings, none of the Hetarians knew of the Terahns. Dillon’s mother changed all that for it is she who is meant to eventually unite the world upon which she lives into one world of peace, unity and prosperity. It is not an easy task, and even she is not aware of her full destiny yet. This union between you and her son is meant to be, Cinnia. You cannot refuse it. If you do then you must be exiled from Belmair.”

Cinnia flushed with an anger that threatened to overwhelm her, but then as Nidhug’s words sunk in she grew even paler than she normally was. “I would be sent from here?” she whispered, frightened. But then her courage returned, and she stamped her foot. “You give me a choice between marriage to a Hetarian, or exile? Is it not your duty to protect Belmair? Protect its people? Its ruler? Me?”

“Aye,” the dragon said, small puffs of smoke coming forth from her carved nostrils. Cinnia’s selfish childishness was beginning to annoy her, and she had to struggle with herself not to become angry. “You have been given a choice, sorceress. Marriage or exile. But either way, Dillon of the Shadows will rule next in Belmair.”