Page 18 of Kingdom of Dance

“And apparently that place is mending chicken coops,” said Master Hughes disapprovingly. He sighed. “You are a sad case, Lieutenant.”

Obsidian winced slightly at the unearned title. “I don’t feel sad.”

“Well, let me tell you, my boy,” the enchanter said sternly, “you look, sound, and…I don’t know…seemsad. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself, so I’m not sure why you keep up the facade.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Obsidian, his voice all the tighter because, if he was being honest, he knew exactly what the other man meant.

The journey south to the capital, Tola, took most of the day. By the time the carriage passed through the city gates, they weren’t far off closing. Long before then, Obsidian had become heartily sick of his companion, and his many veiled hints about how pleased the guild would be to welcome the recalcitrant young enchanter.

They entered the city through its northern gate and made their way south through the sprawling streets. From the carriage, Obsidian couldn’t see the ocean, but he could smell the salt on the breeze and hear the occasional cry of a gull. He sat a little straighter in his seat. Its proximity to the ocean was his favorite thing about the capital. He hoped he’d get the chance to sneak away for a few hours, enjoy the view from the cliffs to Tola’s east.

Halfway across the city, the ground began to rise gradually, as they made for the castle perched atop a low section of cliffs on the eastern edge of the city. Obsidian had been to the capital a few times before, with his parents. But not for some years, and he’d never been inside the castle. He couldn’t help looking up at the structure with interest, noting the stone dragons that stood on either side of its entrance.

He regretted commenting on this feature to his companion when Master Hughes launched into a monologue about the statues. It started innocently enough, with an explanation that a similar pair were found at the castle’s eastern entrance, where one of the city’s other gates led toward the cliffs themselves. But it quickly became a lecture on how the presence of the stone dragons denoted Entolia’s high regard for magic, and—by extension—enchanters. His claim that the Enchanters’ Guild held a position of high influence in the kingdom was, predictably, a launching point for him to once again hint that Obsidian should join the guild.

Blocking out the endless stream by the simple expedient of alighting from the now motionless carriage, Obsidian once again considered the castle. It was a long, low building, not as grand or as imposing as he’d expected. Hardly a turret in sight. He found himself thawing a little at this lack of pretension.

The travelers were received by the castle’s steward himself, and Obsidian was surprised to be shown to a comfortable guest suite within the actual building. He wasn’t sure whether to be gratified by the luxurious treatment or disheartened by the implication that the king didn’t expect his visit to be short.

He had imagined that he’d spend the evening kicking his heels, awaiting the king’s convenience at a more seasonable hour the next day. But he soon realized that his brief time with King Basil on the battlefield should have given him a more accurate idea of the young monarch’s efficiency. A curt knock on the door heralded not a messenger, but the king himself.

“Your Majesty,” said Obsidian, bowing as fluidly as he could. The gesture always felt stiff.

“Sergeant—no, it’s Lieutenant now, isn’t it?” King Basil corrected himself. “Lieutenant Obsidian. You’re here in excellent time—you must be hungry after your journey. We eat a little later this time of year, and we haven’t yet sat down to dinner. But before I take you to the dining hall, let me welcome you to Tola, and thank you profusely for coming at such short notice.”

Obsidian bowed again. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

King Basil examined him, those sharp eyes seeming to see more than Obsidian might like. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

Obsidian only just managed to restrain a grimace. “Truthfully, Your Majesty, I don’t know how to receive congratulations for something I didn’t earn.”

“Oh? What makes you say you didn’t earn it?” the king asked curiously.

Obsidian sighed. “I believe my promotion was given in recognition of the assistance I provided you when you visited the front lines, Your Majesty. And you know as well as I do how limited my role actually was.”

“On the contrary,” said King Basil calmly. “Your assistance was invaluable, and I’m glad it was recognized.”

“You’re very gracious, Your Majesty.” Obsidian inclined his head, determined to say no more. He could hardly explain to his king that even his previous position as sergeant hadn’t been earned, or that he had no desire to be promoted merely because of his blasted magic.

“I’ve been informed that you remain in the military, is that correct?” the king asked.

Obsidian hesitated. “Technically,” he acknowledged. “I requested a full discharge when the war ended. But my request was…not granted. I am, however, on indefinite leave, so it’s more or less the same thing.”

“It is, as I imagine you must know, not at all the same thing,” the king contradicted, with no sign of heat. “But never mind that. As you no doubt realize, I didn’t call you all the way here to discuss your military career.”

“No,” Obsidian agreed. “I understood from the representative of the Enchanters’ Guild that you requested my assistance in a magical matter.”

In spite of his best efforts, his voice came out flat, and he saw the curiosity in the young king’s eyes as to why he didn’t want to be consulted on a matter of magic. But King Basil didn’t ask for clarification.

“That’s right,” he said instead. “Although, I cannot be certain that magic is involved in Zinnia’s behavior. I just strongly suspect it to be so.”

“What behavior is that?” Obsidian asked, his interest piqued in spite of himself at this mention of the king’s eldest sister. What did Princess Zinnia have to do with it?

King Basil didn’t answer immediately. He strode across the room, pulling back the curtain that had already been closed for the evening and revealing the darkening sky beyond. Following slowly, Obsidian observed a rocky stretch of shore to the window’s right, just disappearing into gloom. An ocean view. He really was receiving royal treatment.

“Do you have any siblings, Lieutenant Obsidian?” the king asked unexpectedly.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Obsidian. Truthfully, he thought his father had been worried about the risk of producing more magic-users, but of course he didn’t say that.

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