Cliven followed the zombie dragon and the pudgy princess until they finally alighted on a rooftop.
“Nogard!” cried Cliven. “Come down! Please don’t hurt her!”
Nogard shook his head playfully, turned, and very gently nipped Emeldatine on the shoulder.
The princess started to cry.
Then she turned very, very pale.
Cliven ran frantically through the streets. Where had Nogard gone?
If I were a baby zombie dragon, he asked himself, where would I go?
Before he could answer, he heard a whoosh, a shriek, and a giggle.
Nogard flew by overhead, trailing flames, carrying a pudgy six-year-old in a tiara.
Young Princess Emeldatine sat in her tower, surveying the kingdom she would one day inherit. “When I’m Queen, I’ll make every day my birthday!” she declared.
Nurse chuckled. “You’d get old pretty quickly!”
“I’ll also have a pet dragon,” said Emeldatine. “Like the moldy one at the window!”