Page 87 of Kingdom of Dance

“What is it?” he asked warily, as soon as they were alone. “Yesterday evening you told me that Amell agrees with your horrifying theory that dragons are involved in the curses against the crowns. Your face tells me you have even bigger news this morning, and I admit that terrifies me.”

Obsidian shook his head. “Not exactly bigger news.” He ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for where to start. “Princess Zinnia invited me into her rooms last night.”

The king stilled, an entirely different look coming over his face, and Obsidian hastened to continue.

“I got the strong impression she was trying to drug me, so I wouldn’t follow her.”

King Basil’s face relaxed marginally. “That sounds about right,” he said, the words clipped. “Did she succeed?”

Obsidian shook his head. “She thought she did, but I faked it.”

The king frowned. “Hang on, what do you mean, follow her? She swore she wasn’t going into the city again.” He drew a hand across his eyes. “I certainly hope she’s kept the promise, given we’ve had no success at all in locating that enchanter Lorne. That’s what I was just discussing with my captain and the master enchanter. I’ve enlisted the help of the guild, but so far it’s gotten us nowhere.”

“She’s kept the promise,” Obsidian assured him. “She didn’t go into the city.”

“Where did she go, then?” King Basil demanded.

Obsidian opened his mouth to tell the whole strange tale. Nothing came out.

“Well?” the king prompted.

Obsidian tried again, with the same result. No matter how he tried to phrase it, the words wouldn’t come. Horror crept over him as understanding blossomed. Whatever magic held Zinnia bound, he’d been exposed to it. And he was bound now as well.

“Lieutenant Obsidian,” the young monarch said wearily, “I really don’t think it’s possible for you to shock or alarm me more than you already have. There’s absolutely no reason for you to hesitate to say anything you might have witnessed.”

Before Obsidian could respond, there was another knock at the door. The king’s steward appeared, his expression grim.

“You wanted to be alerted immediately, Your Majesty,” he said, presenting King Basil with a deteriorated ladies’ boot. The king stared at it, and a sudden thought sparked in Obsidian’s mind. As soon as the steward was gone, he yanked off his own boot, turning it upside down to reveal the disintegrated sole. It was by no means ruined, but it was drastically more worn than it had been the day before. King Basil’s gaze followed the gesture, his eyes widening as they passed slowly to Obsidian’s face.

“You did follow her,” he breathed. “You saw what’s happening.”

Obsidian tried to nod, but he couldn’t. His head was stuck in an unnaturally still position. Now that it had been activated, he could actually feel the magic that bound him, like a living thing wrapped around his mind and body, snakelike and unshakable. It was a strange and unnerving sensation. How had Zinnia lived with it all this time? But perhaps she couldn’t feel the shape of it in the same way, not having the ability to detect magic.

“Well?” King Basil was sitting up in his seat, his face eager. “What did you see? What’s going on?”

Obsidian stared back at his sovereign, a feeling of paralysis creeping over him.

Impatience slowly turned to horror in the king’s eyes. “You can’t speak.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ve been silenced, too.” He ran both hands through his hair, so that it all stood on end. “I can’t believe this.”

Obsidian grimaced, fully alive to the disastrous nature of this development. He could only be thankful he’d made a report to the king prior to dinner the night before. Would the magic have prevented him from speaking of Prince Amell’s suspicion, now that it had been confirmed by what he’d seen in the secret underground cavern?

“I’d say that’s decisive proof that magic is involved,” the king said, not even looking to Obsidian for an answer. He groaned. “But is it confirmation that dragons are involved?” This time he did look at Obsidian, who sat as if turned to stone.

King Basil let out another groan. “This is a mess. I’m half tempted to follow you myself, see if I can share your experience. But it won’t do to have the king bound by whatever magic is at work here.” He stared unseeingly at his desk for a moment, then pinned Obsidian with a determined look. “I need some time to think this through, and I’m sure you’ve got your own thinking to do. For the moment, I need you to stay close. You’re on the inside now, so make sure you find out as much as you can about…whatever this is. We just have to trust that we’ll find a way for you to impart your knowledge to me.”

He cast an appraising eye over the soldier. “Now go and get some sleep. You look terrible. And I need you at your best tonight, when Zinnia inevitably slips away early from her own ball once again.”

Obsidian frowned. “Ball, Your Majesty?”

The king nodded vaguely, his attention far away. “Today is Zinnia’s nineteenth birthday. She’s been so distracted, I suspect even she’s forgotten. But there’s to be a ball nevertheless. Tradition must be maintained, or something like that.” He waved an impatient hand to signify his feelings on such traditions, and Obsidian took that as his cue to leave.

He was halfway to the door when the king hailed him. “Lieutenant.”

Obsidian paused, looking back inquiringly. The young king was giving Obsidian his full attention, his expression rueful.

“It’s not a role I relish,” King Basil said, “but I feel compelled to caution you against accepting any further invitations into my sister’s rooms. I try generally not to be quick with doling out royal sanctions, but there’s a point at which even I have to take disciplinary action.”

Obsidian’s face heated. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said gruffly, hoping his mortification didn’t show. He was fervently glad he’d given no details of his conversation with Zinnia when she’d been trying to drug him. “I understand.”

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