“How long will it be before she is awakened?” the king asked.

“I’m afraid it will be several days, Your Majesty,” the servant answered, his tone holding just the proper amount of regret. “She tends to sleep heavily.”

“Time enough,” the king replied pleasantly. “Send to me before she comes.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the dragon’s servant said, and then bowing, he backed from the chamber.

As he did, he was passed by a beautiful young woman who hurried into the king’s presence. She was tall and slender with the grace of a willow. Pale as moonlight, her long hair, which was worn loose, was as black as the night, and her eyes were as green as spring. She was dressed in a flowing gown of violet silk.

“You have sent for the dragon, Father?” she said as she came.

“I have. It is past time, my dear Cinnia, that I did so,” the king told his only child.

“You know what she will say,” Cinnia responded. “She has said it before, but you would not listen. Will you listen now, Father?”

The old king sighed. “I have no choice now but to listen,” he admitted.

“But will you follow her advice, Father?” Cinnia persisted.

“I fear I must,” the king replied, and he sighed again. “My time is coming to a close, Daughter. Look to my glass. A successor must be chosen to follow me. It is the dragon’s duty to choose the next king of Belmair, and it is your duty to wed my successor.”

Now it was the girl who sighed deeply. “I do not know,” she said, “why a queen cannot rule Belmair, Father. I am as good a sorceress as any male sorcerer.”

The king nodded. “It is true, Daughter, that you have strong powers, but tradition dictates that a king rule Belmair.”

“Can tradition not be changed, Father?” Cinnia asked seriously.

“Tradition, Daughter, is what keeps our society civilized,” the king reminded her. “Remember our history, my child. The last of our kind to challenge tradition, to cause dissent among our peoples, were sent from Belmair.