Page 108 of The Artist and the Dragon

“The prince was right about one thing in his letter. With the king gone, it’s an optimal time to seize the throne.” He set the glass down hard. His red lips thinned. “But he’s not gone, is he? He wouldn’t leave his precious queen. An interesting little wrinkle, but no matter. The pieces are already in motion.” He rose from his chair, the oil lamp on the table casting his grim, flickering shadow against the navy-papered wall.

“What are you going to do to me?” Bronwyn’s heart raced. Though she gave it all her focus, she could barely lift one hand, much less fight him off.

He stopped at the edge of the bed and stroked her cheek with the back of one hand before withdrawing. A shiver of disgust rolled over her skin. “Keep you, perhaps? We’ll have to see if we suit each other.”

They most certainly did not. She clenched her teeth hard, willing him to try to touch her again. Maybe she could bite off one finger.

“But, for now, you do make the mostdeliciousbait.” He licked his lips, eyes glimmering.

Realization struck her so hard that she could barely breathe. “That’s my blood.” Her own words sounded far away over the scream echoing through her head.

“As my magic requires.”

Dark magic. “But the painting didn’t—” She snapped off the thoughts that floated unbidden from her tongue.

His brows rose. “The painting?” He tsked. “Not just a gift after all, I take it. Was any of it real?”

Bronwyn had no answer for him on that. She’d valued his companionship, his friendship, but all of those memories were tainted by the revelation of who he was and what he’d done. If only the spell had worked at the party… Maybe he hadn’t used dark magic recently then. Perhaps it was all terrible timing, but his consumption of blood and his own admission was damning.

“No matter.” He took another sip. “I’ll need my strength when your lover comes for you. How soon will he be here, do you think?” he mused, gripping his chin. “Shall I let you reunite before I kill him? That would be quite poetic.”

She nearly screamed in frustration. How dare he threaten Malik? Use her as bait? She clawed across the bedclothes in desperation. Finally, her fingers grazed something cool and hard. She sucked in a sharp breath, hope thrumming alongside her fury.

Bronwyn wrapped her fingers around it and pulled. Something clattered. Then she flung the object toward Griffith with all her might. It hit him in the hip and fell to the floor.

All trace of humor fled his face as he scowled at the object on the ground.

“Oh, Bronwyn.” Lord Griffith bent and picked it up. The object was about the length of her forearm. Yellowed and streaked. Tapered in the middle. He tapped one end on his open palm.

Bone. It was a bone.

This time, a scream did hurtle from her lungs. She twisted her head to look to her other side.

The bed was not empty.

Another screech tore from her throat. She wiggled, thrashed, did anything she could to get away from the skeleton that lay next to her still wearing a stained, discolored nightgown.

“I always did want to introduce you to my mother.”

Then Griffith was on her again. He shoved a cloth over her nose and mouth, half-obscuring the horrifying sight. A sharp, tangy scent filled her nose, but this time, she nearly cried in relief as the world faded away again.

Chapter 46

Malik

“Ican’tbelievetheylether go off alone!” Malik slammed his fist into the wall, savoring the pain of the impact and the cracks he left behind.

Drystan squeezed his shoulder. “You have to calm yourself. Anger and bloodlust will only fuel the beast.”

Malik snarled at him, feeling far too much like the monster he could feel rousing within him. He’d consumed blood one too many times, first with Lord Osric the night before, after their whiskey, and then in the club earlier that day. A necessary act to convince them of his falsified allegiance, but apparently enough to trigger the Goddess’s curse. Tempt the darkness and pay the price. Reach for more and doom your soul.

Drystan knew the toll the Goddess demanded more than anyone. He’d wrestled with the beast for years, had almost gotten it back to sleep for good—or so he’d thought—before Ceridwen was cursed. He’d reached for darkness again in a failed attempt to save her. Malik had thought it foolish at the time. He didn’t now. If it meant saving Bronwyn, what wouldn’t he do?

Damn it all, he had to find her.

“She was not at my apartment, nor here. Wynni had not seen her since the opera. Lord Griffith’s manor has been quiet since this morning. He must have her,” Malik said, voice rising with fury once more.

“We don’t know that for sure. You know Bronwyn. When she sets her mind to something, no one can dissuade her. She might yet turn up.”

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