“Aye, I am cruel. I have a cold faerie heart, and yet it seems to warm for you, and only you. Tell me that you do not love me, Nidhug.”

“I cannot,” she replied, several large tears slipping down her snout. “I do love you, and it is a most impossible situation, my beautiful faerie prince.”

“Nay, it is not. We are magic, Nidhug. If it pleased you I would be that blue-and-gold dragon for as long as we both live,” he declared passionately.

“Foolish prince,” the dragon replied. “You cannot. You are your mother’s only heir. You will one day rule the Forest Faeries, and you must take a faerie wife so you may have an heir to follow you. That is why this is so impossible, Cirillo.”

“That time is far in the future, and when that time comes I will do my duty, but my mother has barely reached her prime,” Cirillo said. “You are the mate I would have. I will not always be true to you for that is my faerie nature, but I will love no other, Nidhug, but you. You are the keeper of my heart, my darling dragon.”

And then the faerie prince took his dragon’s form, and together the two soared into the skies above the twin castles. They flew over the sparkling afternoon sea to Belia where they took pleasures together in Nidhug’s cave high above the province. Their cries of satisfaction as they mated were so loud that their roars sounded like thunder, and Belia’s folk looking to the skies were puzzled by the lack of rain clouds or rain. Finally the two dragons slept until the early evening when they returned to Nidhug’s castle. It was there that Cirillo took leave of his lover and returned to Hetar’s forests where his mother was awaiting him.

“The scent of lust is upon you,” Ilona greeted her son.

Cirillo laughed, but said nothing.

“How goes it in Belmair?” she asked him.

Cirillo told his mother in careful detail, for detail was important to the faerie kingdoms. Detail helped with spells, and other magic to be performed.

“And old Cronan is still useful?” Ilona sounded amazed.

“Did you ever meet him?” Cirillo asked her.

Ilona shook her head. “I know him only by reputation. I wonder what the Shadow Princes will think when Kaliq tells them that he lives.”

“I do not know if he will,” Cirillo said.

“Aha! Clever creature that he is, aye! Kaliq would keep such information for his own advantage. Well, let him. Had Cronan ever picked a successor it would have undoubtedly been Kaliq or so rumor would have it,” Ilona said. Then she turned to her son. “When this is over there will be no need for you to return to Belmair.”

“I will always return to Belmair,” Cirillo told his mother.

“I think it is time for me to pick a proper faerie bride for you,” Ilona told her son.

“Do not, Mother, or you will doom some poor faerie maid to disappointment,” he warned her. “My cold faerie heart belongs to the dragon. It is she who warms it. One day I will do as you wish, briefly love another and father an heir or an heiress upon one of our kind. But I love Nidhug, and I will not deny it. Nor will I lie to you about it,” Cirillo said.

“You have your father’s straightforward manner,” Ilona said grudgingly. “Very well, Cirillo, for now I will leave you to your little amusement. If you tell me you will one day take a faerie wife and father an heir then I will trust you to know when the time is right. A dragon! What kind of a son did I raise that he would fall in love with a dragon? I liked it better when you were more like me, flitting from lover to lover.”

“I will still take a lover now and again, Mother. I am faerie. Nidhug knows that, and she understands it is my nature,” Cirillo said.

Ilona shook her beautiful golden head. “You do know she is older than you?”

“Centuries older.” He chuckled, agreeing.

“I shall blame Kaliq for this,” Ilona decided. “I should have never let you study with him for all those years. He has been a bad influence.”

“I suspect he would be delighted to know that you think so, Mother,” Cirillo teased her, grinning. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go and find Father.”

She waved him off and, watching him go, she smiled. She had birthed but two children, and each in their way was extraordinary. She was very proud of her daughter, Lara, who while mating with mortals had done her heritage proud. And while she adored her son, the fates were obviously tempting Ilona of the Forest Faeries. A dragon? How had Cirillo lost his faerie heart to a dragon? She wondered if she would ever know.

17

“I WILL REMAIN WITH YOU while you journey,” Dillon told Cinnia as she prepared for her second trip to the Dream Plain. They had gone to the dream chamber, and he handed her the cup of sweet frine that he had prepared. Cinnia drank it down, kissed his lips and then lay down upon the comfortable bed, Kaliq’s crystal globe in her hand.

“I feel secure knowing you are there,” Cinnia told him. Her head touched the pillow, and it cradled her neck and shoulders. “I love you,” she told him, and then she closed her eyes. Slowly, slowly she sank into a deep sleep, and by the look that suddenly touched her face he knew she had reached her destination.

The silvery-gray mists were very thick. Aware of everything about her, Cinnia stood very still. “Arlais,” she called softly, and then more insistently, “Arlais! Where are you?” She began to walk through the mists, and then they grew thinner, and she could see Arlais coming toward her.

“I was beginning to think that you had either forgotten or that our first meeting was nothing more than a dream,” Arlais said as they met and embraced warmly.

“Nay, but there has been so much to do,” Cinnia said. “My husband and others have created a new province they have named Belbuoy. He drew the land from the sea, and it is beautiful and fertile. It is to be the Yafir’s new home.” She went on to explain everything to Arlais, who listened intently. And then Cinnia reached into her robes and brought out the crystal globe. “Kaliq of the Shadows has sent this to you,” she said. “You, or whoever holds it has but to ask to see Belbuoy, and they will.” She handed the globe to Arlais. “It is yours to keep. When you awaken it will be with you, and proof of what is happening between us. Have you spoken with your sons?”

“I have. They are cautious, for to trust a Belmairan is not something they have been taught to do,” Arlais said candidly. “But they are also hopeful for a future that will take them back to live upon the land.”

“They are men grown, and yet you are but twenty-seven,” Cinnia said. “Such a thing defies logic, but Dillon says time has been manipulated for the Yafir. Is it not odd to have sons who look your age?”

Arlais laughed. “At first as they grew and grew and I remained the same it did seem strange. But one grows used to such things. Now, however, there are so many of us. Ahura Mazda kept insisting our men keep stealing Belmairan women, and the women kept having sons, and few daughters.” She sighed. “A society peopled mostly by men is not an easy place in which to exist. The men have little to do, and where once we had land beneath the sea where we farmed, now most of that land is taken up with homes for our burgeoning population. The bubbles cannot expand it seems. I have asked Ahura Mazda about this, but he waves my questions away, and will not answer.”

“It is not his magic that created the bubbles, or that keeps them safe,” Cinnia told Arlais. “The Yafir were saved by an ancient Shadow Prince named Cronan who makes his home on Belmair. I do not know how he became acquainted with Ahura Mazda, but he did. He took pity on the Yafir, for they are considered the lowliest of the magic folk.”

Arlais’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and then she laughed. “That wicked Yafir,” she said softly. “The Yafir had no real lord until Ahura Mazda. When that old Belmairan king banished them from Belmair, they were ready to wander once again. But Ahura Mazda told them he could save them, and they would never have to wander again. With a wave of his hand he took them to the bubbles, dispersing the various families among them. Those who remember that time say that the cottages were already there. In fact everything was there for them. And Ahura Mazda made it possible for them to return to the land to take the women they sought when they wanted them.”

“The magic to transport themselves and others is a magic that belongs to the pure-blooded Yafir, but the magic for creating and sustaining the bubbles is not theirs. That is great magic, and only a Shadow Prince has that kind of magic,” Cinnia told Arlais.

“So my husband is a fraud.” Arlais chuckled wickedly. Then she grew serious. “He will not leave his castle, or his bubble,” she told Cinnia.

“In the end he may have to,” Cinnia replied. “Cronan is very, very old, Arlais. His strength is waning with each day. Soon he will not be able to sustain the Yafir in their hidden world. He is, I suspect, partly responsible for bringing Dillon to Belmair. He himself has said that none of us, Belmairan or Yafir, could survive with another narrow-minded king. We needed fresh blood. Fresh eyes to see.”

Arlais nodded. “I agree,” she said.

“You must speak to your sons, and they must speak to their adherents. If the Yafir are to be saved again-if they are to be eventually integrated into Belmairan society, and become one with us-we must move to accomplish this soon,” Cinnia told her companion.

“I will speak to them this day,” Arlais said.

“Very well,” Cinnia replied. “And in two nights time we will meet again here upon the Dream Plain.”

Arlais nodded. “I will be here,” she said.

And then the two women found themselves being surrounded by the mists of the Dream Plain as they slid away back into consciousness.

Cinnia awoke suddenly to find Dillon dozing in the chair by her side. Looking at her husband, she smiled. He looked so young for a man with such great responsibilities. Rolling onto her side, she reached out and touched his hand. “I’m awake,” she said softly, and smiled as his eyes opened. “It is done. We will meet again in two nights’ time and hopefully then we will be able to begin to effect the transfer of the Yafir to Belbuoy.”

“You are amazing,” he told her, and his eyes were filled with his love.

“I could not do this without you,” Cinnia responded.

“You are truly my other half,” Dillon said. “Where I am weak you are strong. Where you are weak I am strong. I am always amazed that such a perfect match between male and female can be made.” He smiled at her. “It is not yet dawn. Let us go to our own bed, my love.” He helped her up, and together they departed the dream chamber for their own bedchamber where they slept until past the sunrise.

Beneath the sea, Arlais awoke in her own bedchamber. Ahura Mazda had been with Volupia the previous night but was now gone from her chamber. After she had washed and dressed Arlais went into the common room, where Minau was already breakfasting. “Good morning,” she greeted the second wife, and joined her. “I think today I shall go and visit my sons,” Arlais said. “Do you want to come?”

“Nay, Cinnia is nearing her time, and one of us should be with her,” Minau replied. “She is very unpleasant of late, and the others do not want to be near her.”

“I am sorry,” Arlais replied. “Would you like me to remain instead of visiting?”

“Nay,” Minau responded. “You are always taking the heaviest burdens upon yourself. If you wish to see your sons today then go. I can manage Cinnia. She is so difficult of late that even our husband does not wish to be near her.” Minau chuckled.

The bubbles of the world called Yafirdom were connected by passageways fashioned from clear crystal quartz. Leaving the small castle Arlais made her way through the corridor that would take her to the bubble community where her sons lived.

She found them in the dwelling that they shared for neither yet had taken a wife.

“Good morning, my sons,” she greeted them as she stepped through the door of their cottage. They came forward, kissing her cheeks and leading her to a seat by the stone hearth. “I have brought you a small gift,” Arlais said. “But it is delicate, and you must be careful when you handle it.” She drew forth the small crystal sphere from the pocket of her robe and held it out. “Take it, Behrooz,” she said to her eldest son, “and say aloud, Show me Belbuoy.”

Behrooz, a tall young man with the silvery hair and aquamarine eyes of all the Yafir males, took the sphere from his mother. It sat in the palm of his hand. Looking down at it he said, “Show me Belbuoy, oh sphere.” And then his eyes widened, and a soft gasp of surprise escaped his lips. “What is this, Mother? What is this place?”