Page 1 of Kingdom of Dance

Prologue

“But when will Basil be back?”

The four-year-old’s sleepy whisper drifted across the room, alerting Zinnia to the fact that not all the little ones were asleep.

“I don’t know exactly, Holly, but I’m sure it will be soon,” she whispered reassuringly, moving back across the space to tuck the covers closer around her sister.

“Will the Mistrans kill him?” the little girl asked, her voice small. “Or injure him, like they did to Father?”

“Of course not,” Zinnia said staunchly. “They won’t hurt him. And he’ll stop the war, you’ll see. When he comes home, he’ll be fine, and we’ll be at peace with our neighbors.”

Holly nodded sleepily, taking her sister’s assurance as fact. “It’s strange that he’s king now,” she said groggily. “Instead of our brother.”

“He’s still our brother, silly,” Zinnia said, laughing a little in an attempt to hide the ache in her own heart. She felt the truth behind Holly’s words as keenly as the little girl could. Basil was barely more than a year older than Zinnia, and he’d always been a friend and ally as much as a brother. But she knew his ascension to the throne would change things between them. In the few short weeks he’d been king, she’d already felt the difference.

“Where’s Mama?” The bleary voice of Holly’s twin, Ivy, suggested she, at least, had been very near to sleep before Zinnia and Holly’s conversation had roused her.

Zinnia sighed, another ache spreading over her. “She’s sleeping, Ivy. But I’m here.”

“I didn’t even see her today,” Ivy complained, a forlorn note under the petulant words.

Zinnia said nothing, unsure how to respond. She stepped back from Holly’s bed, her eyes passing over the nine still forms in the young ones’ room. Her gaze traveled to the door which led into the nearest of the three adjoining suites. Two were occupied by the eldest two of her sisters, one by herself. Twelve of them to look after, and Basil far away in Mistra, trying to negotiate an end to the war their father had fought for six long years.

A flash of frustration passed over Zinnia at the thought of her absent mother, but it was immediately replaced by guilt. Her father had only been dead for a matter of weeks, and her mother was taking his passing hard.

Fleetingly, Zinnia wondered what would become of them all if they were a regular family, dependent on their parents to provide their needs—emotional as well as physical—instead of a royal family with endless nannies, governesses, and servants. Their mother wouldn’t be able to afford to withdraw into grief then. Would such need spur her into action, or would even more fall on Zinnia’s shoulders?

But it was a meaningless question. If they were a regular family, her parents wouldn’t have had thirteen children.

Well, Zinnia thought dully, her father was gone now. He hadn’t managed to have a second son, and now others were left to care for the twelve princesses who were the only result of his determination to produce a spare as well as an heir.

A glance at Holly and Ivy showed that the four-year-old twins were, if not yet asleep, at least settled. And other than the occasional rolling over or sleepy grunt, there was no sign of life from the other seven girls in the room.

Zinnia let out a long breath, relieved that the wearying process of reassuring and settling her younger sisters for sleep was finished for another day. She grimaced at the thought that it would all start again the following night. This role didn’t come naturally to her. If she had children of her own one day, she was going to aim for a small family. Five or six. Just a cozy little group.

Smiling to herself at the absurdity of the thought, she turned to the doorway into the first of the older princess’s suites. She’d barely taken a step when a diminutive figure appeared, hair still dripping in spite of the towel wrapped around it.

“Sorry, Zinnia,” whispered Violet, her eyes passing over the nine still forms. “I just finished my wash, but I see I’m too late to help.”

“It’s all right,” Zinnia whispered back, equal parts amused and troubled that at fourteen, Violet already considered herself one of the grown-up sisters, who should be expected to take responsibility for the young ones.

“Where’s Lilac?” Violet asked, naming the sister between them in age. “Still with Mother?”

Zinnia nodded, and Violet pursed her lips but said no more. With one more glance around the silent room, she ducked back into her own chambers.

Zinnia intended to follow her, but as she passed her eyes over her sisters, her gaze was captured by a fluttering curtain. She should probably close the window. Winter was past, but it was still too cold to have sea breezes blowing in all night.

She crossed to the window in question, but instead of sliding it shut, she leaned on the sill, gazing out at the moonlit scene. The low cliffs on which the castle sat gave way a short distance from the window of the nursery-turned-bedroom, the sea lapping gently at their base. It was calm tonight, still and peaceful. Nothing like Zinnia’s state of mind.

Still, she loved the ocean in all of its moods. If she could have controlled it, she would have had the waves churn and plunge like her own emotions. But since she couldn’t, she was content to watch the swells gently moving in from the deep, and to try to let the calm predictability of the current seep into her troubled heart.

WasBasil going to be fine? Or were the Mistrans going to kill him, as she’d assured Holly they wouldn’t? He was so confident when he set out, and Zinnia hadn’t hesitated to have his back. But now that he was actually gone, far from her sight, doubt swirled through her. Perhaps Basil’s advisors were right—that it was tantamount to suicide for an eighteen-year-old king to put himself in the hands of an enemy kingdom so soon after ascending the throne.

At least she’d gotten Dannsair and Reka to agree to look in on him in Myst. That was some small comfort.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a shadow suddenly crossed the moon-kissed water before her. Zinnia’s head snapped up, searching the skies. She caught only the briefest glimpse of a dark shape overhead before it passed from sight. A dark and decidedly reptilian shape. And it was heading east.

Her heart speeding up in a tangle of nerves and excitement, Zinnia stood back from the window. She’d never known Dannsair to visit at night before, so there must be a reason. Had the dragon looked in on Basil in Myst already? Did the beast’s abrupt reappearance signal good news, or bad? She hesitated for a moment, wondering if Dannsair would seek her out. But as friendly as Zinnia and the dragon had become, Dannsair had never come into the castle. She’d rarely even approached it. Zinnia was always the one to go to her once she’d seen her fly overhead.

---