“I am relieved to hear it,” the old king said with some small humor. “I know how difficult it is for you, my daughter, for you are not a woman to sit by her loom weaving contentedly. Nidhug has taught you well, and you are a great sorceress.”

“I show promise, the dragon says,” Cinnia responded with a chuckle.

“I wonder who she will choose to follow me,” the old king said.

“What are your thoughts on the matter, Daughter?”

The young woman considered, and then she shook her head. “I can name no one I would choose to follow you, Father. Unless there is someone in one of the three provinces I do not know of, I can think of none. Its dukes are ancient, and long wed.”

“Memory fails me, Daughter. Do any have sons?” the old king asked.

“Only Dreng of Beltran,” Cinnia answered, “but he is long wed.”

“How odd,” the old king said thoughtfully. “In a time when a king is needed it would appear there is none to be had.”

“Perhaps tradition is about to change,” Cinnia suggested mischievously, “and a queen will follow you.”

“If that be so,” replied her father, “the queen still needs a husband if she is to produce the next king. Even all your sorcery cannot give you a child without a man.”

“We can make all the suppositions we want to make,” Cinnia said. “Only the dragon can tell us what is to come, Father. Even I acknowledge that. I am sorry she did not come tonight, but I know how hungry she is after one of her little naps. She must eat before she can consider the solution to our problem.”

And Nidhug was indeed enjoying her evening feast. She praised the cook lavishly for her presence of mind in including the poultry offerings. “No one, Sarabeth,” she said to the cook, “can roast a goose as you do.” She popped a whole bird into her mouth, crunching down upon it, her thin tongue whipping out to lick her lips. “Delicious!” Nidhug pronounced as she swallowed the goose. “And capon, too! Is it stuffed?”