Page 73 of Kingdom of Dance

It was over an hour before Master Hughes released him, and Obsidian was impatient to start his journey north. But he couldn’t deny to himself that the enchanter’s instruction had been helpful. He’d allowed himself to forget too much of his basic training. He was starting to acknowledge—albeit reluctantly—that if he wanted to keep himself and those around him safe, he needed to gain better control over his magic.

The journey to Fernford, the capital of Fernedell, took most of three days. The stop at his own home had been a welcome break, his mother delighted to see him, and his own bed comforting in its familiarity. He’d told her very little about the sensitive work he’d been undertaking at the castle, and she asked him no searching questions. But the scrutiny of her gaze told him she was hearing all kinds of things he wasn’t saying. She’d always been that way. It was strangely comforting.

And unnerving.

The journey into Fernedell was uneventful. The roads were good, and the fear caused by the prison break was mainly a thing of the past. Summer was on the brink of turning to autumn, and the days were growing cool, but Obsidian felt no undue discomfort. He was used to rougher conditions. The thing that cost him the most sleep was worrying fruitlessly about Zinnia.

He felt surprised—and a little disapproving—at his own fussing. But considering how much trouble the princess managed to get herself into on an almost daily basis, it was a little alarming to think of what might befall her in his absence, which would probably last a week. Even in his own bed, he’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling and picturing her wandering unsupervised through Tola’s slums.

But no. She’d promised her brother she wasn’t going to go out there again, and she hadn’t been lying. She was undoubtedly lying safely in her own bed at that very moment.

For some reason, that thought brought sleep no closer. Obsidian tossed and turned, embarrassed to find himself wondering fleetingly whether she was thinking of him, and worrying about his safety.

What an absurd thought. But perhaps he ought to have said goodbye, instead of running out like that.

It was in a state of considerable weariness that he was ushered into a small audience hall in Fernford’s castle on his third evening away from Tola. But sleep was the last thing on his mind. He was eager to discharge his errand as quickly as possible and begin the journey homeward.

He’d been waiting no more than fifteen minutes when Crown Prince Amell strode into the room. Obsidian had never met him before, but he could see at a glance what King Basil had meant. Prince Amell, who seemed to be a little younger than Obsidian, was bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking like he was eager for any action at all. He greeted Obsidian with as much warmth as curiosity, and ripped open King Basil’s letter with a flourish.

His eyebrows went up as he read, and there was a hint of excitement in his eyes when they traveled on to Obsidian’s face.

“Well, Lieutenant Obsidian,” he said, a disarming smile curving his lips. “I’m dying to know what this outrageously offensive and potentially dangerous question is. And as instructed, I promise to direct any and all righteous wrath toward Basil rather than yourself.”

“You’re very gracious, Your Highness,” said Obsidian, smiling a little himself. “But it’s still with some trepidation that I ask the question.”

“I’m more curious than ever,” Prince Amell prompted him, when he fell silent.

Obsidian squirmed. In all his journey, he hadn’t given much thought to the wording he would use for this conversation. It was suddenly clear to him that he’d made a glaring oversight.

“Well, Your Highness…” He cleared his throat, telling himself to get on with it. “King Basil’s question is whether it might be possible that you had assistance from a dragon in your recent adventures. Magical assistance, that is.”

The prince stared at him for a full ten seconds, his face showing nothing but shock. “Why would you ask that?” he said at last, cautiously.

Obsidian hesitated. King Basil had told him that he trusted Prince Amell implicitly, but that he still wasn’t keen to advertise Zinnia’s deception. Obsidian would need to walk a narrow line.

“Someone mentioned something that made us wonder if it was possible that certain dragons had provided magical assistance to humans. King Basil wished to investigate the possibility, and he thought that a good starting point might be to ask whether you know anything about it, Your Highness.”

Amell narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “It was Zinnia, wasn’t it?” He shook his head, his voice dropping to a mutter. “I wondered if she overheard my conversation with Rekavidur at the christening.”

Obsidian raised an eyebrow, and a rueful look passed over Prince Amell’s face.

“All right, I’ve given myself away. I did have some assistance from Rekavidur and Dannsair.” He looked a little anxious as he scanned Obsidian’s face. “If Basil sent you with such a question, he must trust your discretion. I’m doing the same.”

Obsidian bowed. “Of course, Your Highness.” He hesitated. “I’m an enchanter myself, and I fully understand the gravity of this matter.”

The prince nodded distractedly. “If Basil is investigating all this, there’s something else he should know.”

Obsidian waited silently as the prince fidgeted.

“I don’t know if Zinnia overheard this part, but Rekavidur said some pretty astonishing things to me at the christening. Or rather, didn’t say. He dropped hints, and left me to figure it out or not, as I could.” He gave a rueful grimace. “Dragons are irritating like that.”

Still Obsidian said nothing, watching in trepidation as the prince’s discomfort grew.

“He said…well, he didn’t say, but it almost seemed like he was implying that…well, that just as some dragons have breached the agreement to help, others might have…” He took a breath, pulling himself together. “I wondered if it was possible that dragons might have had a hand in the curses that have plagued the crowns these last twenty years or so. I know Basil’s been working on a theory of it being a group of rogue enchanters, and I thought so as well. But Rekavidur seemed to be suggesting otherwise.”

Obsidian froze, completely stunned. He was the one who’d come up with the wild theory, but he was still unprepared to have it corroborated.

“It’s a foolish thought,” the prince said hastily, seeing his face. “And a dangerous one, if there’s no basis for it. I’m not at all sure I understood Rekavidur’s comments. Please don’t pass it on, except to Basil.”

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