Page 110 of Kingdom of Dance

“We have to leave,” Obsidian said tightly. “We shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” Zinnia stared at him in growing alarm. Up close, he looked even worse.

“You and I both need to get away from this wedding,” Obsidian murmured urgently. “Right now. Or people will die.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Zinnia drew in a sharp breath. Her stomach felt like it was truly tied in knots now, fear reaching a crescendo within her. She saw Obsidian’s gaze once again dart to Idric, anger in the soldier’s dark eyes. But she didn’t ask for an explanation.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll come.”

But she’d had no chance to even move when the double doors at the end of the ballroom swung open. Basil reached out and grabbed the back of Zinnia’s gown, unceremoniously dragging her backward into her seat.

“Zinnia, sit down,” he said with his usual maddening unflappability. “We can deal with the latest crisisafterthe ceremony.”

“With respect, Your Majesty,” said Obsidian urgently, “no, we can’t. Zinnia needs to come with me right now.”

Basil raised an eyebrow. He glanced toward the doors, where Zinnia could see a flash of white from the waiting bride’s gown. “I’ve already told Zinnia I don’t mind you courting her,” the king murmured rapidly, “but you arenotgoing to elope in the middle of someone else’s wedding.”

Zinnia saw the flash of surprise—and perhaps something else—that passed through Obsidian’s eyes, but it was momentary. The strain descended on his features again immediately, and Zinnia was too tense to appreciate her brother’s light words herself. This was no time for jokes, if only Basil knew it.

People in the surrounding rows were watching them, muttering disapprovingly, but Zinnia ignored them. She started to stand, opening her mouth to argue under cover of the music swelling throughout the room, but before she could utter a sound, the tightness in her stomach suddenly unfurled, transforming to a slashing pain that seemed to slice through her midriff.

With a gasp, she fell back into her seat, clutching at her stomach. His eyes wild with fear, Obsidian pushed past the others, dropping to his knees in the confined space before Zinnia’s chair.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“The…compulsion…” she managed between agonizing bouts. “I don’t…understand.”

What did Idric want her to do? She couldn’t exactly descend the trapdoor now.

“Zinnia?”

Violet’s terrified voice was a little too loud. The wedding was continuing, the groom’s eyes fixed unwaveringly on his approaching bride. As Zinnia looked up at Princess Aurelia, the pain lessened for a moment, and she noted that the bride was a vision of splendor in a simple, flowing white gown, with an explosion of pink lilies carried in her hands. But Zinnia was in no state to appreciate such details. She dropped her gaze, and the action seemed to instantly trigger another round of pain.

The people seated near the Entolians had begun to notice that something strange was going on. A guard was even inching toward them from the edge of the room, a disapproving look in his eye.

“What do you mean, the compulsion?” Obsidian asked. But just then Basil appeared, dropping to his knees alongside Obsidian and laying a hand on Zinnia’s elbow.

“Zinnia, what’s wrong?”

Her brother’s proximity stilled Zinnia’s tongue. He was within hearing now, and the magic wouldn’t allow her to say anything about Idric’s compulsion. She was barely aware of her surroundings, but her eyes flicked up to see that Princess Aurelia had reached the front, received eagerly by Amell, who was now clasping both of her hands in his.

As soon as Zinnia’s eyes were on the couple, the pain that had her nearly blinded once again dropped slightly in intensity. Confused, she glanced toward the dark, hulking shape of the dragon at the window—a blot on the Fernedellians’ beautiful garden. Idric was watching her intently, cold expectation in his eyes. But what did he expect her to do?

“Zinnia, what are you doing?”

Zinnia looked around in confusion at Basil’s words, startled to discover her hand on Obsidian’s hip. He looked equally confused, but he slapped his hand over hers, preventing her from finishing the task she’d started without even knowing it—drawing a hidden dagger from his belt. Fear thundered in her veins. How was it possible she’d reached for it at all? She hadn’t even known it was there.

She withdrew her hand hastily, letting out an involuntary whimper as pain assaulted her senses. Obsidian leaned up on his knees, practically elbowing Basil out of the way as he gripped her shoulders.

“What is it?” he muttered, so low Basil must not have been able to hear, since the words came out cleanly. “What’s he compelling you to do?”

Without conscious thought, Zinnia’s eyes were drawn to the bride and groom at the front of the room, and suddenly she understood. The very thought was so foreign, so horrifying, that her mind had fought against recognizing it. But once she let her defenses down, certainty came rushing in. She knew what she was supposed to do, just as she’d always known without being told that she was being ordered to descend through the trapdoor.

Idric had activated the compulsion enchantment for the last time, more potently than ever before. And this time, he wasn’t just calling her to come to him. This time, he wouldn’t relent until she’d fulfilled a much darker purpose.

She was supposed to kill the bride and groom. Right here, in a public display of cold-blooded aggression that would set the continent on fire as surely as dragon flame.

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