Page 10 of Kingdom of Dance

By the time Zinnia arrived at the ballroom, many of the guests were already there. The long table was filled with refreshments, and the space was beginning to feel satisfyingly crowded. She smiled as she observed the food arranged decoratively on the surface. She wondered if she was the only one who’d noticed that the table was significantly smaller than the banquet table in use before Basil’s reign. Or that, while every inch of it was covered, much of it was with flowers and elaborate seashells sitting in bowls of sand and clear water.

Reducing the exorbitant amount of food at these types of events was one of the many practical changes Basil had made when he ascended the throne. Of course, there was still more than enough for those present. It was just that they would be throwing away twenty people’s worth of food, not a hundred. Perhaps even less, considering the servants were now strongly encouraged to take leftovers home, rather than having to do so on the sly.

The disgruntled look on a nearby courtier’s face as he threw a glance at the table suggested that Zinnia wasn’t the only one to notice. Allowing herself a brief grin, she traipsed up to the nobleman in question, fanning herself with one hand.

“Good evening, My Lord,” she said languidly. “Isn’t this heat oppressive?”

The man looked faintly surprised as he bent into a bow. The evening was already beginning to cool. “Welcome back, Your Highness. May I get you a drink, perhaps, or some refreshments?”

“Oh no,” protested Zinnia. “I couldn’t touch a thing. I never can when there’s dancing to be had. That lavish fare is enough to make me feel ill just looking at it. I’m sure I don’t know what my brother was thinking, assaulting our senses with such anexcessof rich food.”

A flash of suspicion crossed the man’s features, as he received the tiniest inkling of the fact that she was making fun of him.

“Your Highness?” he asked slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Zinnia fluttered her eyelashes up at him, never one to back down. “Yes, My Lord?”

“Zinnia, my dear.” Her mother’s voice held all its usual poise, but Zinnia had no difficulty recognizing the warning beneath. She turned a smiling countenance to the dowager queen.

“Mother,” she said, shamelessly dropping her melting air for her usual bright tone. “So good to see you again.”

“I’m glad you’re safely home,” Queen Lucille said, in a voice too dignified for warmth. With a regal inclination of the head toward the bowing nobleman, she deftly steered her eldest daughter to a more private spot. “Zinnia, must you bait the nobles?”

“Only the pompous ones,” Zinnia assured her. She searched her mother’s face. “How are you, Mother?”

“I’m very well, Zinnia,” said the older woman, with a hint of exasperation. “There’s no need to look at me like you think I’m going to break.”

Zinnia smiled apologetically. “I wasn’t thinking that. I’ve just been away too long.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “You were very missed, my dear. And I’m happy to see you again. I called by your suite when I received word of your arrival, but you were sleeping, and I didn’t wish to wake you.”

Zinnia nodded, still studying her mother surreptitiously. She really did look well. That was one weight off her mind, at least.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and gorge myself on some of those delicious-looking pastries, and see if I can catch that nobleman’s eye while I’m doing it.”

“Princesses do notgorgethemselves on anything,” said her mother firmly. And to Zinnia’s dismay, she seized her daughter’s elbow and propelled her through the throng, leaving her no choice but to mingle and listen to a dozen inane congratulations on her safe return.

She’d barely managed to escape and join Violet for a pheasant wing when the musicians started up. Zinnia groaned, trying to shovel food in faster. She would be expected to open the evening with the highest-ranking nobleman present, and the last thing she felt like doing was dancing.

But to her surprise, she was approached instead by her brother.

“Basil,” she said, making no effort to hide her pleasure. “Don’t tell me you’re going to rescue me?”

He smiled, offering her his hand. “Wait until you see my dancing before you decide whether it constitutes a rescue. Surely I’m allowed to pull rank to welcome my sister home before she’s swamped by admirers.”

Zinnia cast him a rueful look as he led her into the center of the room. “None who admiremerather than my position, I promise.”

“All the more reason for me to cut them out,” smiled Basil.

Zinnia grinned, perfectly content to avoid any and all so-called admirers. For a few minutes they were silent, and Zinnia relished the opportunity not to make small talk. She’d never actually danced with her brother before. She didn’t think anyone could accuse Basil of elegance, but he performed the steps very adequately.

“So why all the fuss, Basil?” she asked at last, knowing her brother appreciated directness. “Are you up to something?”

A strange look passed over his face, somewhere between laughter and pain. “I wouldn’t say up to something,” he replied. “I truly did want to welcome you home and, I don’t know, make a bit of a fuss of you. I hope you know that I see and appreciate just how much you carry.”

Zinnia didn’t respond. Basil had no idea how much she carried, but that was due to no fault of his own.

“But I did also hope that the ball would be an unobtrusive way to introduce you to some members of the Enchanters’ Guild,” Basil added, in his usual forthright way.

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