Page 46 of Kingdom of Dance

Without another word, he opened his jaws wide and breathed flamelessly on her. Agony immediately assaulted her as her very core was pulled in different directions, every nerve struggling to hold on, to keep from being ripped in two. She’d never thought he was holding out before, but the intensity of this attack went beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

“Stop,” she begged him, the word coming out a whimper. “Please, stop. You know you can’t do it. Why keep trying?”

“Tell me about this enchanter,” Idric repeated calmly.

As soon as he was finished speaking, he resumed the attack, and pain flared across her senses.

“He’s not important.” She forced the words out through gritted teeth. “His magic isn’t that strong.”

“Lies,” said Idric, sounding bored. “You know I can tell when you’re being dishonest. Why trouble to attempt it?”

He didn’t resume his attack, and Zinnia slumped to the cavern floor, exhausted but relieved, the memory of the pain dancing across every fiber of her awareness.

“This is tedious,” the dragon complained. He glanced across the cavern, his gaze directed at Wisteria. “Perhaps my time would be best spent continuing my examination of this power that dwells in royal blood instead. Shall I extract all of her blood? With so many princesses, the tragic death of one wouldn’t be difficult to pass off as an accident.”

“No!” Zinnia cried, her horrified gaze fixed on the four-year-old who was currently stuffing her face with imaginary banquet food, unaware of the dragon looming over her. “Don’t touch her.”

“Tell me about this enchanter,” said Idric, his voice cold and unyielding.

Zinnia’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Whatever her reluctance about giving Idric information, it was nothing compared to the horror of watching Wisteria die. Sending a silent apology toward the absent soldier, she spoke.

“His name is Obsidian. He fought in the war, and he’s an enchanter. But he doesn’t like his magic, and doesn’t really use it,” she added quickly. “So he doesn’t even know how strong it is.”

“Promising,” mused Idric. “Conflicted over his magic, hardened by war, thrust unprepared into the midst of royal life. He sounds like just the sort of complex, embittered vessel I need.”

“What can you possibly need a human enchanter for?” Zinnia asked desperately. “You already have more magic than any human could dream of.”

Idric’s expression was indulgent as he looked down at her. “Perhaps the only intelligent thing you’ve ever said, Princess. But if you were really anything more than a fool, you would remember your own words. My actions—while entirely necessary, and undeniably justified—are not yet sanctioned by the other elders of my kind. My purposes are much more successfully achieved by acting through the weak and petty of your kind. Which is to say, any human at all.”

A dark look passed over his face. “Or my purposes ought to have been achieved, if not for the inexplicable way all my targets have managed to overcome their curses.” His voice dropped to a murmur, and he was watching Zinnia like she wasn’t there, like she was an object to examine. “It’s the spark—it must be. If it could just be removed, they would all crumple at the first provocation. They would turn on each other and destroy themselves without us lifting a talon.”

Zinnia stood frozen, torn between fear at the image he presented, and excitement that he was goaded enough to reveal so much of his intentions. She realized all at once the reason both for his irritation, and for the increased frequency of his experiments. Fernedell had recently managed to thwart a powerful magical attack, not to mention having weathered the break out from the prison surprisingly well. Zinnia had no doubt Idric was behind both of those incidents, and he couldn’t be pleased that they’d ended as they did.

“But the others have all frustrated my attempts,” the dragon said, his eyes now on her face. “There’s only one left, and this time there will be no mistakes. It is infuriatingly limiting, this necessity to work with humans. Undoubtedly that is the true source of these failures—choosing humans with inadequate power and insufficient resolution. I need a stronger, more embittered enchanter. I am pleased,” he announced, in the tone of one granting a boon, “that you have given me such a promising suggestion.”

Cold rushed over Zinnia, Obsidian’s face flashing before her eyes. She was convinced his magic was stronger than he’d let on, and she had herself seen evidence of his bitterness. What would happen if Idric turned him? It was a possibility she hadn’t even considered. All her focus had been on stopping the fugitive from the prison from connecting with Idric.

Which, all things considered, was still a priority. At least the dragon hadn’t found out about that enchanter through Zinnia’s carelessness.

Suddenly something of Idric’s speech filtered through her overwrought mind. “What do you mean there’s only one left?” she demanded.

Idric didn’t answer, but she didn’t need him to. The implication was clear. She didn’t need proof to be convinced of his involvement in all the major curses of the last two decades. The attack on Listernia’s princess at her christening, the uncontrolled curse that had turned Mistra’s princes into swans, the enchantment that transformed Albury’s crown prince into a beast, even the magic-powered attack on Bansford’s royal family. And now, the recent events in Fernedell.

There was only one kingdom in Solstice which hadn’t been targeted. The same kingdom on which Idric had been focusing his attention for the last year and a half.

“You want to attack Entolia,” Zinnia said hollowly. “And you don’t even care about the details, do you? You just want to find any magic-user who you can manipulate to do the greatest damage.”

Apparently Idric had talked out his irritation, because he gave her no answer. But she didn’t need him to. She already knew the truth. Disaster was hanging above her kingdom by a fraying thread, and no one knew it but her.

Chapter Ten

“You’re sure?” King Basil looked as confused as Obsidian felt. “You’re absolutely sure?”

Obsidian nodded. “I watched her window for several hours, Your Majesty, like I’ve done every night since I arrived. If she left her rooms, it wasn’t that way. And none of the other princesses left by the windows, either.”

“And the guards swear no one left through the doors,” the king muttered. He ran a hand distractedly over the surface of his desk. “But they were all behaving so strangely. Zinnia especially. When they retreated in force like that, I was sure they were going somewhere.”

Obsidian said nothing. He also had been convinced of it, and was bewildered by the lack of activity. He could hear her voice in his mind.I have to go.But then she’d lingered, looking at him almost hopefully. What had she said next?I need to go right now.Neither statement had been dishonest. She really had felt compelled to leave, and he had no idea what to make of that. When she’d told her younger sisters it was time for bed, however…he could still taste the familiar scent of bitterness. She’d known they weren’t going to bed. So where were they going?

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