Page 105 of The Artist and the Dragon

“I know you went with him after the opera,” he said, eyes downcast.

And, oh, did she feel even worse then. Here she was asking the man whose feelings she couldn’t return for help saving the man she loved. If the carriage wasn’t moving along at a solid clip, she might seriously have jumped out.

“I thought you might have feelings for him. His interest was quite easy to see despite the other women he kept on his arm.”

Now that stung in a whole different way.

“After you disappeared with him at my party, I needed to be sure. And then you left with him and him alone after the opera. Went back to a private apartment, was it?” he asked. “It seems the ring I gave you is still there.”

Her brow knotted. The question was so jarring it was as if they screeched to a halt. “How could you—” The last word died, unspoken, as she sucked in a breath. “You followed us?” Oh, Goddess, had he known Malik’s address without her giving it?

“Close.” A smile bloomed slowly across his face, but it wasn’t the cheerful one to which she’d grown accustomed. “A tracking spell. Tucked in the setting of that pretty stone. Took a number of tries to get it just right.”

She shook her head. “A spell? But you’re not—”

“Of noble blood?” he finished for her.

He wasn’t. His father had been made a noble years ago. There was no magic in his blood. None that they knew of.

“But I am. Not just noble blood but something stronger.” Now there was an edge to his voice she’d never heard before. A sharpness as wicked as any blade. “My father wasn’t granted his title simply because the king was generous. Quite the opposite, in a way.”

Her trembling now had nothing to do with the swift crunch of the carriage wheels over cobbles.

“Oh, Bronwyn…” He lurched forward.

She gasped and jolted back, her spine digging into the backrest—but there was nowhere to go.

Lord Griffith cupped her cheek in a mockery of a tender embrace, his fingertips digging into her skin as he forced her to look at him. “You always were so clever, so insightful. You’re right. Your dearMalikis not the Dragon. A pity you couldn’t have simply fallen in love with me instead. The things we could have done together…”

“You’re him.” She clutched at his arm. “You’re the Dragon.”

The bloody villain was right here. The man who’d cursed her sister, who’d tried to destroy everyone she loved.

A little huff of laughter slipped past Lord Griffith’s lips. His fingers flexed on her cheek, tilting her jaw. “Clever. Just as I said.”

A wave of pure rage washed through her. She dug her fingers into his forearm, attempting to wrench his hand away. When that failed, she lashed out, raking her nails across his cheek.

He cried out in pain but did not let go. Rather, he jerked her head suddenly forward, then slammed it back against the wall of the carriage. Pain bloomed through her skull. Spots swam before her eyes. Finally, he let go, and she slid sideways, trying to gain her bearings, to push through the pain.

“No more of that,” he snarled.

Then a cloth was over her face. He fell atop her with his full weight, pushing her down onto the hard carriage bench, their arms flailing, both nearly falling into the floorboard.

Bronwyn gasped, trying to pull in a much-needed breath, but Griffith pressed the cloth tighter. A strange scent filled her nose. She swung her fist, but her fingertips merely slipped across his coat before her hand fell limp.

Darkness closed in around the edges of her mind. Then she knew no more.

Chapter 44

Malik

Malikstumbledintoanalley outside of Perrault’s, squinting at the bright noon sun overhead. He braced one hand against the cool stone wall and wiped at his nose.

“Damn.”

Blood still trickled out. No wonder he was so lightheaded. His insides roiled. The thought of the foul beverage he’d consumed and the poison he’d laced it with were enough to turn his stomach, to say nothing of the effect on his body. He would have tried to vomit it up right then and there if he wasn’t afraid of passing out in the street if he did so.

Maybe that would be preferable.

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