Page 33 of Kingdom of Dance

Zinnia froze, her mind ticking over. Someone had followed her through the gate? She glanced behind her, feeling suddenly watched. She realized the gatekeeper was watching her suspiciously, and she shrugged. No need to give him any information he didn’t have.

“Gone,” she grunted.

The man shut the gate smartly, clearly not interested enough in details to linger. But it was with a very thoughtful step that Zinnia returned to her own rooms. Had someone really followed her? It was an unnerving thought. But as she cast her mind back over the man’s words, she decided she was placing too much significance on it. It sounded like someone had fallen asleep in the boats below and run up for entrance to the gate after dark. Just because they came after her, didn’t mean there was any reason to connect them to her.

Of more interest was the information both the woodworker and Alonse had revealed. For a year now, she’d been trying to find a lead as to how the deceased enchanter had gotten wind of Idric’s offer to enhance his magic.

She understood the reason for the dragon’s offer now, or at least more than she had that much-regretted night. Idric had told her himself that he’d been targeting the crowns of Solstice’s kingdoms, on one of the rare evenings when he was in a talking mood. He hadn’t been feeling chatty enough to tell her his motivations, of course. But from that stray comment, she’d connected a great many dots relating to the curses that had befallen various royals across the continent over the last twenty years.

Curses which all shared one thing in common: they were too powerful for the enchanters and enchantresses who’d cast them. And no one—often not even the magic-user who’d done it—could explain what had made their magic so strong.

Well, Zinnia understood perfectly why it was impossible for the perpetrators themselves to say where they’d gotten their extra power. Hadn’t Idric bound her tongue securely with barely a breath of his potent magic?

This was all assuming that Idric was the source of the extensive magic used by the various offenders. But it was a fair assumption. Although the deceased enchanter had come to the dragon with an attack too petty to capture Idric’s interest, Zinnia had no doubt others had been more successful, particularly those wishing to target royals. A mutually beneficial arrangement—the malicious enchanters had humanly impossible levels of success in their endeavors, and the dragon gained puppets to carry out his attacks against Solstice’s royals.

Zinnia still had no idea how the dead enchanter had learned of this way to expand his powers—for all she knew, Idric may have approached the man himself. But she’d discovered that whispers did pass around the darker alleys of town, unspecified rumors about secret and forbidden ways to access unlimited power. And those whispers were what she’d been attempting to follow since she first started sneaking out, over a year before.

She figured that if she found out where the dead enchanter had heard about Idric’s offer, or who else he might have told in his turn, she might be able to find others who’d received the dragon’s power. Or perhaps those who might be likely to be the next target for the dubious honor.

Then, she would have evidence acquired completely outside of her interactions with Idric. His magic wouldn’t bar her from sharing it, even if it would prevent her from explaining its full relevance. All she would have to do would be to find a way to direct Basil toward the trail, and then he could figure out for himself what she couldn’t tell him.

That their kingdom was in unimaginably great peril from an enemy with a thousand times their power.

She mulled over the revelation about the escaped prisoner. She’d been horrified when Alonse first mentioned it. From what she’d heard, the prisoners still on the run were all hardened criminals, violent and without mercy—the last magic-users she would want to see link up with Idric and have their magic increased a hundredfold.

Even more alarmingly, the fugitive seemed to be on the right trail. No whispers had yet suggested that others suspected a dragon to be the source of the illicit power on offer. But apparently the fugitive had mentioned dragons, in the same breath as asking who the deceased enchanter had been speaking to.

He was following the trail, all right—and at the end of it, he’d find Idric, ready to gift him with extra magic and empower him to wreak who knew what havoc? It was a disastrous development.

And yet…Zinnia pondered the directions Alonse had given her. Even he apparently hadn’t known about the informants used by the Enchanters’ Guild, not until the fugitive started digging. But they were undoubtedly the most likely candidates to have information about where disgruntled enchanters could access extra power. The fugitive’s inquiries had—most unintentionally—given Zinnia a lead she would never have come by as a princess, not even one masquerading as an urchin. If the fugitive could chase down the route by which enchanters could learn about and communicate with Idric, and she could follow the movements of the fugitive…well, he’d be doing the hard work for her.

He was on the right trail, yes, and at the end of it he’d find Idric. But if Zinnia was smart, she might be able to follow the trail in the other direction, reaching the evidence she needed before the fugitive reached the rogue dragon.

Meaning it all came down to how successfully she could outmaneuver a powerful and criminally minded enchanter.

It was a familiar feeling, and it brought her no closer to sleep. Once again, everything rested on her shoulders, and there was no one she could tell, no one she could turn to for help.

Chapter Seven

In spite of the fact that he hadn’t reached his bed until three hours past midnight, Obsidian woke with the dawn, as he always did. For a long moment, he lay still in his luxurious but unfamiliar bed, staring up at the canopy above him.

He hardly knew what emotions he was feeling. If he was given to such fanciful thoughts, he would have wondered if it was all a dream. He hadn’t had many guesses as to the princess’s illicit activities, but he certainly hadn’t expected what he’d witnessed.

He sat slowly, running a hand through his short hair and trying to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. How in dragon’s flame was he going to explain what he’d seen to King Basil? And how would the king react? Would he be angry that Obsidian hadn’t stepped in and prevented the princess from wandering alone through the tawdry streets at all hours of the night, dressed in scandalous attire?

But without direct orders to that effect, Obsidian hadn’t been willing to reveal himself and attempt to curb Princess Zinnia’s activities. He’d been very careful once he’d caught up to her after the tavern incident, and he was confident she hadn’t seen him. He’d almost given himself away when that cat jumped on him, startling him so much he nearly rolled from the roof where he’d been listening to her conversation with the woodworker. But other than that close call, his surveillance had been unremarkable.

The subject of that surveillance had been anything but.

A bowl of water had been left for his use in front of a mirror, along with a shaving knife. Obsidian considered the contraption, then instead retrieved the smallest of his own knives, shaving in the way he’d done while in the army. When he was finished, he remained motionless, staring unseeingly at his own reflection as he tried to process the night’s events. He’d followed Princess Zinnia all the way back to the gate, not because he intended to attempt following her again, but to ensure she reached her destination safely.

Safely. Abruptly abandoning his statue-like posture, he ran the heels of his hands over his eyes and down his face. No part of the princess’s evening activities had been safe. And yet…

When he thought honestly about it, he would have to say that his overwhelming reaction wasn’t one of disapproval, but of surprise. The princess had impressed him. She would likely have run into trouble outside that first tavern without the assistance she didn’t know he’d given her. But other than that slip, she’d conducted herself with surprising street smarts for a sheltered castle dweller.

She’d concealed her identity, she’d handled both the insinuations and the threats of her informant with calm confidence, and she’d obviously known exactly where to go to find the information she wanted.

Why did she want it, though? That was the most unanswerable question of all. Obsidian could make little sense of the inquiries she’d made. He knew nothing of the missing enchanter she was pursuing. He’d understood as well as Princess Zinnia seemed to that the mysterious new inquirer must be one of the three fugitive enchanters still at large from the prison break in Fernedell some months before. But why the man would be asking the same questions as the princess, he had no idea.

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