“No,” Kaliq said. “I lost track of time, my son, and did not realize Fflergant’s death was so close. Come!” The prince flung open his great white cape, and Dillon obediently stepped inside of it.

As the cloak swirled around the two men, Dillon said, “You might have given me a bit more warning, my lord father. What if I don’t like the girl?”

“She already hates you-” the prince chuckled “-for she would be queen of Belmair in her own right. Beware of her until you have won her over.” He tossed the garment open once again.

Dillon found himself in a square chamber that was softly lit. On one wall was a throne in which a frail old man half sat, half reclined. A young girl, frozen in position, stood near him. On the other side of the throne was a very small dragon, equally still.

“I have frozen time briefly,” the prince explained. “The girl is called Cinnia. The dragon Nidhug uses her magic to keep her size small while she is in the company of people. When you become friends she will allow you to see her in all her glory. She is quite magnificent, Dillon, and very wise. It was her decision that you be Belmair’s next king, for it is her duty to make the choice. Trust her. She will be your ally.” He waved his hand gently once again, and the chamber came to life.

Ping.

Cinnia gasped.

Ping. Ping.

“Cinnia, sorceress of Belmair, I bring you my son, Dillon, sorcerer of the Shadows. Will you have him as your husband?” Prince Kaliq asked.

Cinnia nodded, glancing quickly at the handsome stranger.

“Speak the words,” Nidhug said softly.

“I, Cinnia, sorceress of Belmair, accept Dillon of the Shadows for my husband, and for my king,” the girl said aloud.

“Fflergant, King of Belmair, will you accept Dillon of the Shadows as your successor and as the new king of Belmair?” Nidhug asked the old man.

“I do!” he cried loudly with the last of his strength.

Ping! Ping!