Page 12 of The Artist and the Dragon

“I’m glad some things never change.” Bronwyn set her letter on the edge of the table and went about pouring herself a cup.

“Me, too,” Ceridwen agreed. They’d learned early on that the previous monarchs had appreciated being waited on hand and foot. But some habits were hard to break, and both sisters were determined to cling to some measure of their independence, and themselves, no matter how the staff balked at first.

“What are you working on today?” A sip of the still-steaming tea revealed pleasant fruity notes, perfect for the bountiful season. Her sister had already focused back on the papers in front of her, architectural drawings by the look of them.

“Some different options for the new children’s home we’re building in the market district.” She looked up, beaming with pride. “There are two I favor, and I’d love to get your opinion.”

A warmth that had little to do with the tea spread through Bronwyn’s chest. Ceridwen really was a blessing from the Goddess herself. Already, she worked to improve life for the citizens of Castamar, particularly those most in need. Why the dragons would want to disrupt that, Bronwyn couldn’t understand. Didn’t they see how much her sister cared? Drystan, too?

“Of course, I’m happy to help.”

Ceridwen passed one of the designs over and leaned in, finger pointing at a section of the design as if she were about to explain it. Instead, her gaze dropped to the letter Bronwyn received. “Oh, a new invitation?”

Damn.Maybe she should have taken Jackoby up on his offer after all.

Ceridwen’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she sat back in her seat, plans seemingly forgotten. “Who from?”

Bronwyn hugged her cup tighter. “I don’t know yet.”

“You haven’t opened it? What if it’s for something soon?”

Then I definitely don’t want to go.She sipped at her tea to avoid saying so aloud.

“You should at least read it,” Ceridwen continued. “We promised Father we’d make an effort.”

“And we have.” She set down her cup with a small clatter. “You far more successfully than Father ever dreamed. More than enough for both of us, don’t you agree?”

“Bronwyn…” One heavy sigh and her sister’s whole body seemed to droop.

“Oh, fine.” When Ceridwen became set on something, there was no arguing with her. Bronwyn grabbed the letter and broke the seal with a pop. With any luck, it’d be something unimportant and far in the future.

She pulled out the thick paper, unfolded it, and read.

It was worse than she thought. A flush crept up her neck, growing with each line until she may as well have burst into flame under the afternoon sun.

Hastily, she folded up the letter.

“Well?” Ceridwen asked, leaning forward on the table in an entirely unqueenly manner.

Every convincing lie fled Bronwyn’s mind, and she found herself telling the truth. “Lord Griffith has invited me to attend the opening of the new exhibits at the Talia Gallery with him.”

“Lord Griffith?” Her sister’s countenance grew bright. “Why, he’s one of the major donors for the children’s home!”

“He is?” Bronwyn shifted in her seat. She had to admit that he was pleasant and curious, two things hard enough to find even among the nobility. And generous, too? An odd fluttering stirred in her center.

“Indeed. We’re naming the main hall after him as a sign of gratitude. But I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”

“We met at your wedding party.” Bronwyn winced at the mention of that event given how it ended. “We talked for a short time, though I admit I wouldn’t have minded speaking with him more.”

“Mmm, talked about…?” Ceridwen gave a sly grin.

“It’s really nothing.” Bronwyn waved a hand and reached for her tea.

“But perhaps it could be something.”

She frowned. “I don’t—”

“I know, I know. But it never hurts to try? One evening can’t be so bad. Plus, you like art. And it’s a reason to wear one of your new dresses. I know you love them, even if you won’t admit it.”

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