Page 58 of Kingdom of Dance

Ten-year-old Princess Magnolia beside her said nothing, just scratched absently at her elbow. Obsidian had observed that she rarely spoke, seeming almost painfully shy.

“No wonder it’s bleeding, Magnolia, if you keep scratching it,” Princess Violet said, exasperated.

“Sorry.” Princess Magnolia lowered her gaze to her plate, her face burning a little at being the center of so much attention.

Her mother lifted her arm and examined the cut on her elbow. “I hadn’t noticed yours, Magnolia,” she said. “But Violet is right that it won’t heal if you keep picking at it.”

The girl nodded, and the conversation moved on. But Obsidian didn’t miss the fact that Zinnia continued to watch the two sisters in question, anxiety on her face. Frowning, he looked her over, wondering if there was more to the injuries than met the eye. Princess Cassia had spoken the truth when she said she didn’t remember the injury happening, so it didn’t seem she was hiding a nefarious secret. Why then did Zinnia look so tense?

His gaze fell on the shawl the eldest princess was still wearing. No one else had a similar garment. In fact, he’d never seen any of the ladies of the family wear shawls in his time at the castle.

Zinnia saw him looking and pulled it more tightly around herself. Obsidian dropped his gaze at once, but his suspicions were definitely roused. He watched her surreptitiously throughout the meal, hoping she’d drop her guard as food and conversation flowed freely.

About fifteen minutes later, his patience was rewarded. The princess was chatting animatedly with her sister-in-law, and in her distraction, she let the shawl slip off one arm completely.

“You seem to be injured as well, Princess Zinnia,” said Obsidian with unnecessary volume, interrupting the conversation.

Silence fell across the table, everyone clearly surprised by his unusual interjection. Then every eye turned to Zinnia, who was flushing. She hurried to pull the shawl up again, but it was too late.

“Zinnia, that looks bad!”

King Basil was on his feet, moving to his sister’s side. He pulled the shawl unceremoniously off her, frowning at the deep gash in her arm. Obsidian stared at the raised scab as well, berating himself for failing to notice when he’d been with the princess that morning. Clearly she’d been at pains to hide it.

“This needs attention,” the king told his sister, glaring at her. “What happened?”

“I was a bit careless in archery practice,” she said, the taste of the lie wafting through the air to where Obsidian sat. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“The physician can be the judge of that,” said King Basil. He sent a quick glance at Obsidian, who knew he’d be called upon later to confirm the king’s suspicion of his sister’s dishonesty.

Ignoring Zinnia’s protests, King Basil called the physician to the dining hall, insisting that the man look at her injury on the spot. She seemed particularly uncomfortable about the whole thing, especially when the physician pressed her for details of the incident.

“An arrow, you say?” He frowned over the wound. “I wouldn’t have guessed it was a weapons injury.”

“What do you mean?” King Basil asked sharply. “What does it look like?”

The physician looked up, evidently surprised by his tone. “There was no particular thought behind my comment, Your Majesty. I just hadn’t identified the cause at first glance.” He hesitated. “I tend to a fair few injuries sustained by royal guards in training. It’s not often someone scrapes their arm with an arrow, that’s all.”

“Leave the poor man alone, Basil,” said Zinnia firmly. “It’s not his fault I’m unusually clumsy.”

“I don’t know why you need to be in the archery yard at all,” cut in the queen disapprovingly, and the conversation turned into a lively debate about the desirability and appropriateness of princesses training in any kind of combat.

Obsidian watched as King Basil walked the physician to the door, engaging in a quiet conversation. It seemed from the general posture of the two men that the princess’s injury wasn’t a cause for any concern. But still, as the young king’s eyes strayed toward his sister, Obsidian could tell that he was far from satisfied.

As was Obsidian. The memory of his momentary loss of control in the internal courtyard came back to him, and he reflected again on how little Zinnia had regarded the pain his unleashed magic must have caused. She’d barely even seemed to notice.

He clenched his hand around his goblet, anger racing over him. He had no more idea than ever of the details, but someone was hurting the princess, he was sure of it. And he was determined to find out who in dragon’s flame had dared to do it, and pay them back in kind.

Chapter Thirteen

Zinnia squirmed her way through the rest of the lunch, feeling both Basil’s and Obsidian’s eyes on her constantly. Why did the infuriatingly persistent lieutenant have to be so observant? She’d been determined to hide the gash Idric had made in her arm. The injury wasn’t telling enough to reveal anything useful. All it would do was make her family worry.

And after six years of war, during which her father had been almost constantly ill—not to mention Basil jaunting off to visit their then-enemy kingdom the moment he took the throne—they’d all had more than enough of worrying.

She snuck a look at Obsidian, making no effort to hide her glare. He looked steadily back at her, his expression more brooding than ever. She wished she could smack some sense into him. He was wasting his efforts, trying to figure out the cause of the inconsequential scrape on her arm. He should be focused on their earlier conversation. It had been quite a windfall, him asking about her sisters’ study right as they were about to tackle dragon lore. It had given her an unexpected opportunity to steer the conversation onto the dragons without contravening the magic that wouldn’t allow her to reveal anything she’d learned from Idric.

If only Obsidian would take the hint. She was desperate to get some warning to her brother about the threat the dragon posed. As far as she knew, he didn’t have the smallest suspicion that Entolia was at threat from their supposedly peaceful draconic neighbors. But maybe, just maybe, Obsidian could piece together her cryptic comments and realize that if some dragons were willing to break the agreement tohelphumans, there might be others who had been breaking it in order toharmhumans. And he might be able to give Basil the warning she was prevented from uttering.

It was a long shot, and she knew it.

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