Page 41 of Kingdom of Dance

It took Obsidian a moment to master his surprise. “You don’t intend to stop her from going?”

The king met his eyes. “What would your advice be, if it was anyone other than my sister?”

He didn’t hesitate. “If it was anyone other than the princess, I would say she should be followed and surveilled. I would say that revealing to her that we know of her activities would be anything but strategic if we want to find out what she’s actually up to, and what she actually knows. But…” he paused. “She isn’t someone else. She’s not only a princess, but an untrained civilian.”

“Yes, I know,” the king acknowledged, looking troubled. “I hope I’m not making the wrong decision,” he murmured. “It’s certainly not the one my father would have made.” Standing, he extended his hand to Obsidian. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve proved yourself invaluable already. I see I was wise to ask for your help.”

Obsidian shook his hand, hardly knowing how to respond. Nothing about the interview had gone as expected. Dismissed from the king’s study, he set about writing a letter to his mother. He’d best warn her that he was unlikely to be home anytime soon.

He’d assumed the king would swoop in and put an absolute stop to his sister’s activities. His biggest concern had been that he might be sent home before finding answers to all the maddening mysteries surrounding Princess Zinnia.

Instead, King Basil was allowing her deadly charade to continue, and trusting Obsidian to keep her safe in the midst of it.

He’d never been so afraid of failure in his life.

Chapter Nine

Zinnia fidgeted with her napkin, finding she had no appetite at all for the luncheon laid out on the table. Her gaze kept shooting to Lieutenant Obsidian. Once, his eyes flicked to hers at just the wrong moment, and she dropped her gaze to her lap, her face burning.

It was beyond humiliating to have been caught by the near-stranger indulging in a hearty bout of tears. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried like that—of course it had to be the day Basil had set a lackey to trail her.

She shot a dark look at her brother and started slightly when she found him watching her with his usual steady, unapologetic gaze. Had the lieutenant already told him what he’d witnessed? Most likely. Zinnia sent her brother a grimace, determining to dodge the topic if he brought it up.

It was a very strange balance they were walking—neither of them trying to hide their knowledge that something big was going on, but at the same time, making no real attempt to speak about it. She was grateful for his forbearance, though. If they couldn’t have an honest conversation about what was upsetting her, she’d rather not have one at all.

The relentless chatter of the younger girls made it easy for her to brood uninterrupted as the meal dragged on. She’d noticed a certain hesitancy on Lieutenant Obsidian’s face when he’d entered the small dining hall, and had seen the cautious way he glanced at the children. She smiled to herself. She could have told him that he needn’t have worried. Her little sisters might have been shocked that morning to learn that their new dinner guest had killed people in the war, but they’d probably already forgotten it by now. In her experience, children didn’t hold grudges the way adults did, and their impressions weren’t so easily changed. They’d accepted him on his first arrival, and in spite of later revelations, they were likely to keep drifting back to that initial comfortable assessment.

No, it wasn’t the children who’d been overset by Lieutenant Obsidian’s unexpected sharing. It was her.

Not that she’d judged him harshly. She wasn’t five years old, and she knew what war was. It was the ghosts in his eyes that had undone her. Watching her little sisters, she’d longed for the innocent oblivion of her own childhood, for a time when she didn’t know the things she knew now, didn’t carry her burdens. A time before even the war broke out, when things had been simple. But she hadn’t been born into a time of peace and innocence. She’d been born into evil times, times of great danger. And most of those around her didn’t even know it.

The lieutenant knew it, or at least a shadow of it. He was only a couple of years older than her, and it was heart-breaking that he had blood on his hands and death on his conscience so young.

When Lilac had chastised him for speaking of death and war in front of the children, Zinnia had wanted to rush to his defense. She’d wanted to tell her sister that the disillusionment of the little ones, while painful to watch, was a necessary process. That they couldn’t hide from the realities of the war that had scarred their kingdom.

But she hadn’t uttered a word, because no sooner had the thought occurred to her than her own hypocrisy had risen up to condemn her. If she really believed her sisters should know the truth—painful as it might be—how could she justify allowing them to continue in their delusions regarding Idric and his experiments?

But could she really bring herself to open their eyes and expose them to the pain and fear that now ruled her own life?

It was all as unanswerable as ever, and all at once it had just been too much. She’d fled, coward-like, and let herself fall apart for a rare moment.

A moment which, most unfortunately, hadn’t been as private as she’d hoped.

She toyed with the food on her plate, aware that Violet was shooting her concerned looks, but not able to find the words to reassure her sister. She never caught the lieutenant’s eyes again, but whenever she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his gaze burning into her. What must he think of her?

Pulling her mind from such petty problems, she mulled once again over her discoveries of the night before. She’d lain awake for a long time, trying to decide what to do about the information that one of the fugitives from Fernedell’s magic prison was on the loose in Tola. The idea of keeping that information secret from Basil sent a flash of guilt over her. Surely he should know—he would want to flush the man out, prevent him from doing any mischief.

But what possible explanation could she give to her brother about how she’d come by that information? No. Even if she was willing to reveal her clandestine investigations—and presumably have them shut down forever—she couldn’t have the fugitive arrested too soon. She needed him to get close enough to the truth about Idric that Basil could get that same information from him when he was apprehended. Otherwise she was no closer to her goal of exposing Idric’s plots.

Just not so close that the escaped enchanter had already connected with Idric and was wielding magnificent power by the time Basil’s soldiers tried to bring him in.

It was an uncomfortable balance, with a great deal at stake, and no one but untrained, isolated her to make the decisions. It was an overwhelming burden.

Fortunately, the day had one good surprise in store for her. She left the table as soon as lunch was finished and headed back to her rooms, where she was met with a familiar face.

“Elizabeth!” she cried, racing forward and embracing her maid, much to the scandal of the other maid assisting in placing freshly laundered clothes in the princess’s wardrobe.

“Thank you, you can go now,” Zinnia told the other girl brightly.

---