Page 48 of Kingdom of Dance

She shook her head lightly. “There are rumors circulating, Basil. About the…” She glanced at Obsidian. “The fabulous reward you’ve offered the lieutenant if he solves the mystery.”

The king groaned. “So now every gossiping maid is spreading tales about the girls’ deception?” He looked worried. “The last thing I want is for people to think I don’t trust Zinnia and the others.”

The queen was definitely smiling now. “I don’t think that’s the part of the rumor people will fixate on.”

Obsidian felt a stirring of unease, wondering what exactly she was getting at. The king looked as bemused as he felt, glancing between Queen Wren and their guest.

“We didn’t discuss payment,” he said to Obsidian. “But of course I’m more than ready to reward you for any information you find.”

“That’s not necessary, Your Majesty,” said Obsidian quickly. “I’m glad to serve you, as is my duty.”

King Basil didn’t look entirely convinced by the formulaic response, but he didn’t press, and Obsidian didn’t blame him. The young monarch had much more important matters on his mind than discerning the true motivations behind Obsidian’s enlistment into his service. Even Obsidian himself couldn’t have identified where his bitterness ended and his loyalty began. Although one thing was certain—he was much more motivated to help King Basil than he had been to serve under the king’s father.

“Do you think it’s time to bring your mother into these conversations?” Queen Wren asked the king softly.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to worry her.”

His wife hesitated, clearly thinking her words over before uttering them. When she spoke, her tone was delicate. “Isn’t it her job to worry about her daughters?”

“No,” said King Basil, with an unconvincing assumption of cheerfulness. “It’s my job. Privilege of wearing the crown.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the soldier. Obsidian left the room with his mind full of many questions, none of them answerable.

He saw the monarchs a short time later, when the family convened for breakfast. They sat together as usual, and nothing in the demeanor of either suggested coolness toward the other. But it was clear that both were troubled.

These observations were driven from Obsidian’s mind a short time later, when the princesses entered the room in a single, bleary-eyed line. Every one of them looked like they’d been awake most of the night.

“Good morning, girls,” Basil greeted them mildly. “Did you sleep well?”

A chorus of assenting murmurs filled the space, and Obsidian’s appetite deserted him at the overwhelming tide of bitterness that coated his tongue. Every one of them was lying, not that he needed his magic to tell him that.

“But you all look exhausted,” the dowager queen protested, frowning. “Zinnia, you look terrible, my dear. What have you been doing?”

“I’m all right, Mother,” said Zinnia, her cheerful tone so forced it made Obsidian wince.Lie. “We were up late.”True. “Talking.”Lie.

“Well, be more sensible next time,” scolded her mother. “You have responsibilities, you know. You can’t afford to be tired all day because you weren’t disciplined enough to go to sleep at a decent hour.”

“I’m very well aware of my responsibilities, thank you, Mother,” said Zinnia, her voice strained now.

She didn’t wait for a reply, devoting her attention to her food. Obsidian took the opportunity to study her, and what he saw made him deeply uneasy. The princess was more than just tired. The weariness he saw on her was much deeper than a night of poor sleep. It was the exhaustion of spirit that he’d seen on men who’d been too long on the battlefield, lived too long with the constant tension of seeing death around them, knowing each dawn might be their last.

And physically, she looked like she’d taken a beating, although he saw no bruises, no blood. She was moving stiffly, as if in pain, and when someone’s spoon clattered too loudly in their bowl, she flinched away from the sound.

What in the princess’s sheltered life could possibly send her into such a state?

She ate quickly, rising from the table as soon as her bowl was empty. Obsidian stood as well, his eyes flicking to King Basil. The young monarch nodded, clearly encouraging Obsidian to—what was the phrase? Stick to her like a tick?

Obsidian hadn’t missed the fact that Princess Zinnia had carefully avoided looking at him for the entire meal, so he was unsurprised that she pretended not to notice him following her from the room.

Her steps led her neither to her own rooms, nor toward the shore. When the guards outside the dining hall saw that she wasn’t leaving the building, they made no move to follow her. Clearly she was allowed a fair bit of freedom in her own castle.

Obsidian followed her to an internal courtyard he hadn’t yet discovered. It wasn’t a large space, but it had been well designed to give the impression of openness. A small artificial pond sat in the middle, the sand and seashells in its bed making it look like a tide pool. Shells of all sizes were placed around the courtyard, and the benches were carved roughly from stone. Sand crunched under Obsidian’s feet as he slipped through the entrance, his eyes on Princess Zinnia, who stood with her back to him, looking into the pond.

“No need to skulk in the shadows, Lieutenant,” she said calmly.

He moved forward silently, until he stood beside her, enough space between them for a horse to trot through.

“Actually, I was just standing,” he said. “But it’s not the first time I’ve been accused of lurking.”

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