Page 45 of Kingdom of Dance

Anger flashed in the yellow orbs of Idric’s eyes, but he didn’t immediately respond. “Perhaps you will be disappointed to learn that my interest in your spark is suspended for the moment.” His voice echoed around the underground cavern, eerily magnified. “Tonight, I am much more interested in your royal blood.”

Without warning, one of his talons flashed out, gouging neatly into her arm. Caught by surprise, Zinnia couldn’t stop herself from crying out. She placed a hand to the wound, her vision spinning slightly as blood seeped between her fingers. It wasn’t a dangerous injury, but it was enough of a reminder of her physical vulnerability to sober her.

The dragon ignored her response, snaking his enormous head forward to sniff at her blood. “Unremarkable,” he spat. “As always.”

His eyes narrowed to slits as his gaze passed up to her face.

“If the answers are not in your blood,” he murmured, “are they in your mind?”

Zinnia wrapped her arms around herself, unable to help it. “What do you mean?” she asked uneasily.

The dragon seemed hardly to hear her. “For years I have laid my traps,” he growled, “always choosing to power enchantments that targeted the crowns, for maximum effect. And yet every time,” his voice was rising, “the royals manage to throw them off, emerging from what should be catastrophic blows with little lasting damage.”

He seemed to be working himself up into a rage, and Zinnia could only stare, equal parts fascinated and terrified.

“And how?” The last word was a roar that reverberated around the cavern. “How do they overcome such potent magic? I know royal blood has a power of its own, and I thought it must have some protective effect. But I can find no evidence of that in any of you worthless princesses.”

He snapped his wings out, gliding across the space with a growl that echoed like thunder.

“Not here,” he declared, lightly piercing the cheek of an oblivious Cassia, and sniffing the resultant drop of blood, “not here,” he moved on to Magnolia, doing the same on her elbow.

“Stop!” Zinnia cried, sprinting across the space as well as her gown would allow. “Leave them alone!”

“Do not presume to give me orders,” the dragon spat, turning to her with a feral snarl. “You have no control over anything. I control you—I control everything I wish to in your inconsequential human world!”

“You think you’re so unassailable,” Zinnia snapped, losing her own temper. “You think you can control us like puppets, and no one will ever find out. But you’re wrong! Crimes like yours don’t stay secret forever.”

The dragon snorted, a spark flying from his nostrils. “Forever? Do not speak of things you cannot possibly understand, weakling. How many times must I call you down here at my whim before you understand that you are my puppet, and no one will ever know anything I do not wish them to?”

“You’re wrong,” Zinnia told him, her voice quivering with anger. “Already everyone’s asking questions. You think you’ve covered everything with your silencing magic, but what about our shoes? You didn’t think of them, did you?”

She held up one foot to reveal a slipper that was already showing signs of deterioration. The dragon stared at it, for once seeming surprised into silence.

“Your delusions may be enough to stop them from touching anything,” Zinnia said, gesturing toward her sisters, “but you can’t prevent our shoes from coming into contact with whatever this place is. And the magic is too strong—they fall apart by morning. And Basil has noticed! Everyone’s noticed.”

The dragon sat back on his haunches, observing her for another moment before tilting his head back and letting out a gravelly laugh. The sound grated Zinnia more than anything that had come before.

“You think it’s funny, do you?” she fumed. “One day you’ll answer for all you’ve done. I know that your actions aren’t sanctioned by the rest of the elders. When they find out about these experiments, they’ll…”

But she trailed off, unable to think of what punishment dragons might inflict on one of their own kind, when everyone knew dragons who’d chosen immortality over procreation couldn’t be killed.

“Why would I worry about the dragons,” Idric asked pleasantly, “when I’m trembling in fear over the suspicious human king? Trembling in fear that he’ll send his soldiers down here after me, I suppose.” He shook his head in amusement. “Don’t look to your army for rescue. If anyone ever managed to follow you down the trapdoor, Princess, I would simply deal with them as I dealt with that insolent fool the night we first encountered one another.”

Zinnia shuddered internally at the memory, and at the thought of any of Basil’s guards facing the same fate as that enchanter.

“I didn’t say Basil was going to send anyone down here after us,” she said, scowling.

“What will he do, then?” Idric asked comfortably. “Use his excessive magic to stop my plans somehow? When will you learn that I have nothing to fear from any human? It is you, weak, magic-less human that you are, who has reason to fear me.”

“Just because we don’t have magic doesn’t mean no one does,” Zinnia snapped, without thinking it through. “Basil has his best enchanter on the case, and he’ll figure out what’s happening any day now.”

She regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, and not just because they were an absurdly optimistic exaggeration. The gleam of interest that shot into Idric’s eyes was unmistakable, and she was instantly convinced that she’d made a misstep somehow.

“An enchanter, you say?” the dragon mused. “Just what I need. Tell me more about him.”

Zinnia shook her head, her heart racing. What had she started?

“No?” Idric asked pleasantly. “Perhaps my interest in your spark is revived, then, since there’s nothing else of import to discuss.”

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