Page 111 of Kingdom of Dance

“No,” she whispered, horror seeping into every nerve.

The grim understanding that came into Obsidian’s eyes told her that he knew something she didn’t, but she had no energy to ask questions. All of it was required to fight the compulsion clawing at her.

She hunched over in her seat, hugging her elbows and rocking back and forth in an effort to stay in place. Resisting required every ounce of the endurance she’d gained in all the times she’d suffered Idric’s assaults. But this one was so much stronger than anything he’d done to her before.

Time passed in a confusing blur, the ceremony continuing but seeming muffled, as though Zinnia was listening from underwater. Her every nerve was on fire, and it was almost as though she could feel the energy she needed to live draining out of her as she gave everything she had to the task of resisting Idric’s compulsion. Every now and then her hand would reach for Obsidian, unerringly finding hidden weapons her mind had known nothing about. Every time he would stop her before she could grasp the hilt, holding her hand with iron pressure as she struggled to regain control of her own body.

Basil was still hovering, watching her with undisguised alarm, but she had no words for him. None she was allowed to utter, anyway. The agony in her stomach was escalating, and she could actually feel in her core the dragon’s displeasure at her continued defiance, and his smug certainty of her approaching capitulation.

As the officiant pronounced the couple married, Zinnia finally, abruptly, hit her limit. She could fight no longer. If she didn’t do something, she would explode.

She stood blindly, determined to flee the castle altogether, but somehow her steps carried her not toward the outer wall and its many doors, as she’d intended, but past Wren straight out into the aisle, where she fell to her knees with a cry of pain at the pressure attempting to rip her open from the inside out.

The officiant, who was presenting the newlyweds to an applauding crowd, faltered in his words for a moment, looking to his companions for direction. Then he seemed to decide to continue as if uninterrupted, his voice increasing in volume to cover the ruckus of the ill-mannered guest. Guards began to move discreetly toward Zinnia from the end of the aisle. She lay back on the floor, welcoming their approach. She would be glad to be arrested, to be physically prevented from carrying out her horrific assignment.

Was Idric mad? How had he thought she would ever be able to pull it off, no matter how he pushed her? Of course the place was swarming with guards, all of whom would protect both Amell and Aurelia with their lives.

She glanced down, horrified to see Obsidian’s dagger in her hand. She hadn’t even noticed herself going for it again as she brushed past him. The soldier appeared suddenly, dropping to the floor beside her, and pulling her into his arms.

There was no comfort to be found there. The pressure inside Zinnia was unbearable. She’d thought she’d known pain in Idric’s underground lair, but it was nothing compared to this. And through the agonizing tearing at her very self, she could feel the constant, insistent pull toward the task she was supposed to complete.

The murder Idric had destined for her hands to commit.

She scrabbled uselessly at her head, as if she could pull the thoughts out. She wanted to yank out her very mind, cast it away. Better to be an empty shell than a killer.

With a strength that wasn’t her own, Zinnia ripped herself from Obsidian’s grip, terrified to find that she was not only on her feet, but stumbling toward the couple on the dais.

“No!”

Her own shout at last alerted the remaining guests to the display, as she threw herself bodily to the ground. And still, her hands crawled along the polished floor, trying to pull her where her mind didn’t want to go. The pressure within her was unbearably familiar, and sudden understanding blossomed in her mind.

She’d felt a lesser version of this many times—every time Idric launched one of his magical assaults. She’d thought he was only trying to attack her spark, but all the time he’d been taking every opportunity to strengthen the compulsion enchantment on her as well. There was almost two years’ worth of dragon magic powering it now, and she could feel the irresistible strength of it. She wasn’t going to be able to hold out.

You have to, she told herself desperately.You just have to.

Obsidian was again at her side, the guards almost upon them. The bride and groom were staring at her in astonishment, and she saw Amell’s confusion turn to horror as he made out the dagger in her hand.

Someone grabbed her arm roughly, hauling her up to her feet and wrenching the blade from her grip.

“Don’t hurt her!” Obsidian’s angry words penetrated the fog of her mind. She could hear Basil protesting too, his familiar figure crowding behind the guards, along with Wren and Violet.

“Let them,” she managed to grunt through the grinding pain of her defiance. “Let them stop me.”

Even as she said the words, she was once again pulling free of the guards, taking another tortuous step toward the dais, where Amell had swept his bride behind him. Before Zinnia knew what was happening, one of the guards had whipped out a small blade and placed it against her throat.

“Another step and I’ll be forced to protect Their Highnesses by whatever means necessary, Princess,” he said, his voice tense but unyielding.

Zinnia glanced down, confused, and realized that she’d somehow grabbed the man’s sword from its scabbard and was holding it angled toward the royals on the dais, whose guards had formed a ring around them. It was all like a horrible nightmare.

“No!” Obsidian cried, with a desperation that suggested he understood that Zinnia might not be able to prevent herself from taking another step. “Stop!”

At the word, the guard fell impossibly still, his grip on Zinnia’s arm loosened to a gentle hold. Zinnia looked around, confused, and realized not only that guard, but everyone in the room was completely frozen in place, many of them in such unnatural positions that it could only be magic.

“Zinnia!” Obsidian grabbed her shoulders, his grip painfully tight.

Everyone in the room except her and Obsidian, apparently.

“How…” Zinnia gazed around, her eyes watering from the continued pain of the unfulfilled compulsion. “Why did you do that, Obsidian? You should have let them—”

---