Page 47 of Kingdom of Dance

“Have you had their rooms searched?” he asked, and King Basil nodded.

“Thoroughly. When Zinnia was in Albury, I had the whole wing examined by an enchanter, and by intelligence agents. They found nothing out of the ordinary.”

Obsidian sat back, thinking it over. He had no answers for the king. Inconsequentially, his mind went back to his brief conversation with the princess after dinner the night before. What a fool he must have seemed. He’d been the one to approach her, but he’d had nothing to say. He still didn’t know why he’d hailed her like that, or what he’d hoped to communicate. He just hated how they’d left things. She’d barely looked at him since he found her crying on the cliff. He wished there was some way to let her know that what he’d witnessed had made him think better of her, not worse. But he didn’t see how he could do that without initiating a conversation about…well, emotions. And that wasn’t his strength.

Unbidden, his mother’s face flashed into his mind, and he remembered her words the day he’d left home.

You’re going to need to talk about it all sometime, Sid, with someone. Or you’ll simply burst one day.

He grimaced, sure his mother would tell him to just speak his mind to the princess and be done with it.

A gentle knock provided a welcome interruption to these thoughts. The door swung open before the king had even responded, Queen Wren appearing in the doorway. She was holding a small box in her hands.

“Wren,” said the king, sending her a genuine but weary smile. “Come in. I’m just hearing Lieutenant Obsidian’s report.”

The queen shut the door, moving to stand behind her husband, one hand on his shoulder. “Anything of note?”

Obsidian’s eyes flicked to King Basil, who nodded. “You can speak freely.”

“Nothing to tell, I’m afraid, Your Majesty,” Obsidian said. “I was unable to find evidence of any of the princesses leaving their rooms last night.”

She was silent for a moment, her expression troubled as she thought over his words. “Well, something must have happened,” she said at last. She locked eyes with her husband as she placed the box on his desk. “I came to tell you, because I thought you’d want to know right away. I’ve just had a visit from the cobbler.”

“And?” King Basil asked, stiffening.

She sighed. “The new shoes are damaged beyond recovery.”

The king groaned, peering forward into the box. “Are these Zinnia’s, then?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted his wife. “I just picked a random pair to show you. The damage is the same on all twelve pairs of them.”

“All twelve,” King Basil repeated hollowly. “Even Holly’s and Ivy’s. EvenWisteria’s. How is this possible if they haven’t left their rooms?”

“May I see the shoes?” Obsidian asked.

The queen nodded, drawing them out of the box and handing them to the soldier. He turned them over in his hands, seeing the way the soles had peeled away from the uppers, the material looking so destroyed he could almost believe it had been burned. It was certainly hard to imagine what in a royal bedroom could achieve such a result.

He lifted one before his face, letting his vision blur as he drew on his extra sense. There was something…intense about the destruction. He couldn’t quite put it in words.

“What is it?” King Basil asked eagerly. “Can you sense magic on it?”

Obsidian shook his head slowly. “There’s no magic on it now. But that doesn’t mean magic wasn’t involved.”

“I thought magic usually left traces,” the king frowned.

“Not always,” Obsidian said. “It seems counterintuitive, but what I was taught is that the stronger the magic, the less of a mark it leaves. It’s just like the special training I undertook in the military. The more skilled the tracker, the less likely they are to leave their own footprints.I suppose performing magic without leaving a traceable mark requires more sophisticated power, more finesse.”

The king considered this. “So if magic was used to ruin these shoes, it was probably extremely strong magic?”

“That would be my guess,” Obsidian confirmed. “Although why anyone would use strong magic for such a strange purpose, I can’t imagine.”

“I think we can conclude that destroying the shoes isn’t the primary aim,” said the king dryly. “It is presumably a collateral effect.”

King Basil captured Obsidian’s gaze with his own. “I want answers, Lieutenant,” he said curtly. “And I want them now. I’ve never been good at being patient. I’m not criticizing you,” he added. “You’ve done just as I’ve asked. But we need to step it up. If you have other tactics at your disposal, now is the time to employ them. Stick to Zinnia like a tick if you must. Follow any whisper of deception to its source. If you can find even the hint of an answer, you will have my undying gratitude.”

“Is that all you’re offering as a reward?” Queen Wren asked, the hint of a smile on her lips.

The king looked up at her, confused. “What?”

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