Page 81 of Kingdom of Dance

Zinnia withdrew her arm from his, rubbing at her shoulder as if cold. “Let’s chat in front of the fire. More comfortable. My maid will have lit one in my receiving room by now.”

Obsidian stared at her, clearly grasping the danger of the situation, but unsure how to extricate himself.

“Come on,” Zinnia said, tugging on his elbow as if it was nothing unusual for her to invite him into her rooms in the evening. She was a little surprised that he followed without protest, although his arm was so tense the muscles stood out.

The corridor was now mercifully empty of sisters, although the guards’ eyes followed Zinnia and Obsidian in watchful silence. She hid a wince. Basil gave her a lot of license, but she had a feeling there would be an uncomfortable conversation to be had after this. Not to mention her mother’s inevitable horror. But that wasn’t too big an issue—the dowager queen hadn’t tried to exercise any real authority over Zinnia since her father died.

Talking cheerfully of inconsequential things, Zinnia practically hauled Obsidian through the doorway into her receiving room. As she had predicted, a fire was crackling in the hearth. Elizabeth was there, preparing the princess’s evening toiletries, but one glance at the pair was enough to make her inch toward the door, bobbing a curtsy as she went.

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” said Zinnia lightly. “I’ve just invited the lieutenant in for a nightcap. Would you fetch us a bottle of wine?”

The maid’s eyes were impossibly wide as she reached the doorway, and she shot a meaningful glance at Zinnia. The princess just gave her adon’t be ridiculouskind of look, and Elizabeth left the room looking slightly reassured.

As soon as the door closed behind the maid, Zinnia turned to her guest, feeling suddenly awkward. He was watching her through narrowed eyes, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“What’s going on, Princess?” he asked bluntly. “Are you finally able to tell me something of use?”

“Nothing’s going on,” she said, not quite meeting his eye. “I was just enjoying our conversation, and thought you might like to take a glass of wine with me.”

The soldier gave no response, his expression undergoing not the smallest change.

“Won’t you sit down?” Zinnia asked politely, gesturing to a chair. Never taking his eyes from her, Obsidian lowered himself into it.

Zinnia turned away, hurrying into her sleeping chamber, ostensibly to get a shawl, but in reality to retrieve a small earthen jug which Elizabeth had helped her pilfer from the apothecary.

“Now I won’t be cold,” she said cheerfully, bustling back into the receiving room. Obsidian sat right where she’d left him, looking more dark and brooding than should be allowed.

The thought made her smile slightly as she walked to the fire. She stood for a moment, her hands grasping her shawl tightly around her, making sure the jug stayed hidden. With a jolt of horror, she felt a familiar tug in her stomach. It was time. Where was Elizabeth?

To her relief, a quiet knock sounded at the door, heralding Elizabeth’s reappearance. The maid carried a tray with a bottle of Basil’s best wine and two gold-leafed chalices. Zinnia thanked her, dismissing her with a look that bordered on a glare when Elizabeth showed a tendency to hover curiously.

Through the whole process, Obsidian remained still and silent, his eyes fixed on Zinnia. She made a bit of a show of pouring the drinks, shielding the chalices from view with her body as she tipped the jug’s entire contents into one of them.

Straightening, she turned. Obsidian’s eyes bored into her, and the room suddenly felt small and close. The compulsion in her stomach was becoming uncomfortable, but she ignored it. Having brought Obsidian inside her rooms, it was doubly important that she do this first, or he would follow her and the others for certain.

Trying to quell her nerves, Zinnia strolled toward him. She’d never tried to do anything like this before, and she hoped he couldn’t tell how her heart was racing. He stood quickly as she approached, but made no move to accept the offered chalice.

“You look so stunned, Lieutenant, that anyone would think you’d never been invited to share a drink by a beautiful woman before.”

She’d spoken teasingly, but Obsidian’s gaze was solemn as he at last reached out and took the wine. “Anyone would be right,” he said.

Zinnia felt unaccountably pleased, and perhaps he could tell, because his calculating expression softened into what was almost a smile.

“And who’s to say it’s happened now?”

It took her a moment to take his meaning, and when she did, she narrowed her eyes in mock offense. “Unparalleled loveliness, I believe was your own phrase.”

He chuckled, raising the wine to his lips, but lowering it again without taking a sip. Zinnia fidgeted slightly, trying to conceal her impatience. Her stomach was edging its way from discomfort toward pain. She wouldn’t be able to hold out for many more minutes.

“To what do I really owe this unexpected invitation, Princess Zinnia?” Obsidian asked.

Trying to ignore her thundering pulse, she took a step toward him. “You think too much, Soldier. Just enjoy the moment.”

She took a sip of her own drink, then—half pleased, half ashamed at her own daring—she reached out a hand toward his face. With the lightest of touches, she brushed her fingertip across his scar. The muscle of his jaw jumped visibly.

“How did you get that?” she asked softly.

The lieutenant swallowed, something flashing in his eyes that looked suspiciously like nerves.

---