“Perhaps,” Tavey ventured, “it was meant to be this way, mistress. Have you not always said that everything happens for a specific reason?”

The dragon arose from her bed. Her name was Nidhug, and had she allowed herself to appear in all her glory she would have stood higher than her own castle. For simplicity’s sake she used her own magic to stand no taller than eight feet. It allowed her to enter the king of Belmair’s residence easily as the chambers there were only twelve feet high. “You know me too well,” she said. “How long have you served me, Tavey?”

“Since the beginning of time, mistress,” he answered her with just the faintest smile touching his thin lips.

“Humph,” Nidhug responded. She stretched out her hands. “You have kept my claws nicely trimmed,” she noted. “And my scales are quite supple.”

“I have oiled them weekly, mistress,” Tavey said. “Sleeping should not negate your need for maintenance. You are the Great Dragon of Belmair, mistress.”

“How long ago did Fflergant call for me?” Nidhug asked her servant.

“Five days ago, mistress,” Tavey responded.

The dragon stretched again, opening her delicate gold wings and extending them briefly before refolding them. She was a very beautiful creature, her scales an iridescent sea-blue and spring-green. The crest upon her head was purple and gold. She had beautiful dark eyes swirled with both gold and silver, and thick, heavy eyelashes that clearly indicated her gender. “Tell Fflergant that I will come to see him in the third hour after the dawn tomorrow morning,” she told Tavey. “But before you go to him, tell the cook I will have two dozen sheep, a dozen sides of beef, a wheel of sharp yellow cheese and six cakes soaked in sweet wine for my dinner. Oh! And a nice salad, too, Tavey,” Nidhug said. “I am in the mood for greens tonight.”