Page 116 of Kingdom of Dance

“Wait, Father.” Prince Amell had hurried forward, his eyes on Zinnia. “I’ve known Princess Zinnia all my life. I don’t believe for a moment she would willingly choose to harm me.” He paused. “Well, I think she’s wanted to punch me a few times. But not kill me. And she certainly wouldn’t hurt an innocent stranger like Aurelia.”

“It is of course possible that she is being controlled by this enchanter’s magic,” King Bern acknowledged, turning a hard stare on Obsidian.

“I don’t believe Lieutenant Obsidian would do that to Zinnia,” Amell insisted.

His father gave him a frustrated look. “Amell, I applaud your desire to think well of everyone, but the dragon Dannsair said it herself. This enchanter’s magic was wrapped around his own mother in a death curse. In light of that, there’s nothing I would believe him incapable of.”

“Sid didn’t do this to me,” said Obsidian’s mother, sounding indignant. “Your Majesty,” she tacked on as an afterthought. “It was that other one—the escaped prisoner.”

“Are you contradicting a dragon?” King Bern asked her dryly.

“With respect, Your Majesty,” King Basil interjected smoothly, “there is another explanation. Shortly before my arrival in Fernford, I was informed that there was a break in at our Enchanters’ Guild. A number of crystals were stolen, containing a significant amount of Lieutenant Obsidian’s magic.”

King Bern frowned at the other sovereign thoughtfully. “Even if his magic was stolen by the fugitive and used without his permission on his mother—which I acknowledge makes more sense—that doesn’t explain today’s disturbance. I saw him use crystals such as you describe with my own eyes. His own behavior—and that of your sister, I regret to say, King Basil—must be accounted for. And we all heard Master Bartholomew. They weren’t compelled by any external magic.”

“That is not what I heard Master Bartholomew say.” The gravelly voice of the yellow dragon brought an instant hush to the room.

King Bern turned slowly, inclining his head stiffly to the creature in begrudging recognition of his right to speak.

“He did not say that no external magic was at work. He said he could sense none.”

The Fernedellian king looked like he was struggling to contain his impatience. “Master Bartholomew is our kingdom’s most senior enchanter, Mighty Beast. His abilities in both detecting and wielding magic are unparalleled in Fernedell.”

“But still insignificant compared to a dragon’s,” Rekavidur commented dispassionately.

The king’s jaw worked for a moment, then he mastered himself. “I do not entirely understand you. Do you intend to imply that you sense some magic of which Master Bartholomew is unaware?”

“No, I can’t sense any magic binding either Zinnia or her soldier,” Rekavidur said calmly. “But I am after all a young dragon. My powers and my training are still centuries from their peak.”

He turned to the enormous dragon still watching in tense silence—Tanin, he’d called him earlier.

“I appeal to you, Elder,” Rekavidur said, dipping his head in a sign of respect. “I know of no dragon in the colony with greater magical discernment than you. Can you sense any foreign magic on these humans?”

Tanin regarded the younger dragon out of unyielding eyes. “You err, Rekavidur. You are new to our colony, and as yet unfamiliar with our ways. But what you ask is a grave offense. I am unwilling to examine the humans as you request, because to do so would breach one of our most sacred principles.”

“I am, perhaps, more familiar with the colony’s ways than you imagine, Tanin,” said Rekavidur, unruffled. “Would you examine them if I swore to you that I do not seek your assistance on any matter of human magic? Because I do swear it. I swear it on my heartsong.”

Obsidian was unfamiliar with the word, but he could see from the sudden stillness that came over Tanin that the oath had great meaning to the dragons. A quick glance at Idric showed the first hint of unease Obsidian had observed so far. Heartened, Obsidian focused back on Tanin. Rekavidur—whom he knew to be a friend to Zinnia—must have confidence in the elder’s integrity to appeal to him as he had.

Tanin swiveled his head to face Dannsair, the purple dragon who seemed to be Rekavidur’s mate.

“Dannsair?”

She inclined her head in a regal gesture. “I not only embrace the oath, but I match it with my own. We are, in this as in everything, entirely united.”

Without another word, the enormous, nearly black dragon slithered through the hole in the ballroom’s wall. He was much too big to pass through the gap created by the younger dragons, and for a moment the grinding crack of breaking stone sounded throughout the space. The dragon seemed entirely unconcerned with either the chunks of masonry falling onto his scaled back or the havoc he’d wreaked on the architecture.

Obsidian noticed a man standing just behind the king wincing visibly at the damage. Probably the castle’s steward.

Obsidian tried to stand tall and straight as Tanin approached him, but he couldn’t help the slight tremble that passed over him as the monstrous reptile lowered his head and sniffed carefully at his form. It was a natural and involuntary response to a creature of infinitely greater power than him. He could read nothing in the creature’s yellow eyes as it slowly considered every inch of him. Then the dragon turned to Zinnia, subjecting her to the same treatment.

A fierce surge of pride shot through Obsidian at the sight of her. Not even a tremble, unlike him. She had faced down a dragon probably more times than any other human alive. It showed not only in her bearing but in the unflinching way she met the elder’s eyes.

Tanin lifted his head at last, swiveling slowly to look at the two younger dragons who had solicited his help.

“I humbly request the privilege of sharing in the information you have discovered,” Dannsair said in a musical voice.

Tanin was silent for a moment. “I acknowledge your request, but the truth is that my mind struggles to accept the information my senses have acquired.”

---