Page 53 of Kingdom of Dance

“A good soldier is worth a hundred enchanters,” he growled. “My grandfather is the pathetic one.” The anger was building, and he fought vainly to hold it in. He didn’t understand why the princess was goading him, but he didn’t want her to see him lose control.

“Don’t hold it back,” she scolded him. “Let it out.”

What was she playing at? “I don’t understand what you want me to do!” he spat, reaching up to rip her hand off his face. She grabbed his arm, pulling it down again.

“Just let it out.”

“What does that even mean?” he asked, his voice rising in frustration.

“Let it out!”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to—”

“LET IT OUT!” she yelled, and all of a sudden, Obsidian’s fragile hold on his temper broke.

He shook his arm free, reaching up to pull her hand from his eyes as a roar of wordless fury burst from him. Once started, he couldn’t stop it. The rage and pain welled up in a seemingly endless supply, demanding expression. Unsurprisingly, his pent-up magic also flowed up, exploding out from him without plan or target. He retained enough awareness only to direct it away from his companion, into the empty space around them. The volume of his own shout stunned him a little, but not nearly as much as the sight that met his suddenly uncovered eyes.

Light bloomed in the darkness, blinding him with its intensity. On every side, shafts of brilliance leaped back at him as he yelled, a dozen different colors illuminating the cavern. It was as if his voice was the trigger—the louder he shouted, the brighter the colors flashed. What had been formless darkness was now a high-ceilinged underground cavern. The stone under his feet was smooth, but the walls and ceiling were covered with glowing, reverberating crystals, reaching toward him as if eager to soak up every last ounce of the emotion he was releasing.

When his enraged cry finally faded, there was a moment of silence.

“That was incredible!”

The princess was breathless with excitement, her eyes round as they looked around the space. “It must be your magic. I never even thought to bring an enchanter or enchantress down here before.”

Obsidian stared at her, his chest still rising and falling rapidly from his outburst. The crystals were still lit in their colorful display, but the longer he was silent, the dimmer the glow became, until the color faded away altogether.

“Did you intend to release magic?” Zinnia asked curiously. “Or does your voice just have that effect, because you have magic in you?”

As she spoke, the crystals glowed once again, although their light was only white now, with no hint of the blues and purples and yellows that had danced across the cavern when Obsidian shouted.

Zinnia nodded to herself, observing this effect. “This is what it usually looks like,” she told him sagely. “When I speak, or yell, or whatever, the light is just white.”

Obsidian ignored her words, his eyes angry as they rested on her. “What was that?” he demanded.

“We’re in the caverns,” she explained to him. “Haven’t you heard of them? They’re one of Tola’s greatest treasures. People come from all over to see them.” She grinned. “But they have to sign up for a supervised tour. Using it as my own personal pressure release is a perk of being royal.”

She glanced around, watching the way the light in the crystals pulsed as she spoke.

“We don’t fully understand how the crystals work, but we have a general idea. They’re some kind of energy conductors. They receive energy—particularly sound—and change it into light. Apparently they’re also very useful as more general conduits of magic. This cavern is guarded night and day, and has magical protections on it. The crystals, if removed, could be dangerous in the wrong hands, you see. I’m told that crystals like this are really rare, and fetch quite a price in the black market.”

“I don’t care about the caverns,” Obsidian said tightly, and untruthfully.

He had heard of the fascinating phenomenon, and under other circumstances, he would have loved the opportunity to see it for himself. But in spite ofletting it out, as the princess called it, he still held himself tensely. Fresh anger was coursing through him at having been manipulated, for a purpose he still didn’t understand.

“Why did you bring me down here?” he demanded, unable to keep the suspicion and defensiveness from his tone. Magic crackled just under the surface of his emotions, and colors once again lanced through the clear white light filling the cavern. “Why did you push me until I cracked? What do you gain from making me vulnerable?”

Zinnia looked taken aback. “I don’t gain anything,” she assured him. “My aim wasn’t to make you vulnerable, or exploit you in any way. I just saw the look in your eyes, and I knew exactly how it felt, and…” She shrugged. “This is where I come when I need to let it out, so I thought it might help you.”

She glanced up and behind him, at the distant circle of light from the world above. “It’s one of the great things about this place—when you release sound, the crystals change its energy into light. The sound runs out of steam more quickly than is natural. It never reaches the world outside the cavern. No one can hear, no matter how loudly we yell.”

Obsidian frowned. He could tell she wasn’t deceiving him, but he still wasn’t satisfied. Some part of him knew he was being unreasonable, but it had shaken him to the core to be prodded over the edge, forced to expose his deepest, darkest pain.

“And what about you?” he demanded. He seized her arm, not trying to hurt her, but not exactly gentle, either. “Do you get the same treatment? Do you get pushed and badgered until your most personal frustrations rise to the surface, for everyone to see? Or do you just inflict it on others?”

She looked calmly back at him, and he read in her eyes that she had not the smallest iota of fear of him, in spite of the threatening way he knew his behavior could be interpreted.

“No one needs to prod me,” she informed him coolly. “My own anger and fear are always right below the surface.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be afraid? To be manipulated? To reach inside yourself, desperate for the strength to endure, and instead find only weakness?”

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