Page 122 of The Artist and the Dragon

“What?”

“Well, you never used dark magic. In that lost song Ceridwen found, the Ballad of the Goddess, it talked about the magic warring, about darkness being a test. What if … what if you passed? You sought power, but not for your own ends. You became the dragon to save me. To stop a true monster. And you never used dark magic, though you could have. Maybe the Goddess knew? The dragon was a reward?”

A dark laugh fell from his lips. “The dragon is no reward.” Losing control like that … it was a curse, no matter the form he took. “But maybe you’re right. Still, I think it best not to try again. It is a consequence I never want to repeat. In fact, it would probably be best for everyone if the truth of what I became fades back into myth.”

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “That may be difficult. There were a number of royal guards present.”

“Difficult, perhaps, but worth trying.” He ran his fingers through her hair and down over her shoulder. “With any luck, the dragon will be gone for good. Drystan said that his monster would fade away if he did not consume blood or touch dark magic for a time. One can only hope this will be the same.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and soulful. “I will be here with you. If it is or if it’s not. You’re not alone.”

“I know.” And he sealed the words with a kiss.

Chapter 52

Bronwyn

Bronwynhurriedthroughthehalls of the castle, wrapped in only a blanket to cover her shift—an odd sight that made many stop and stare. Malik was no better off in an ill-fitting spare guard’s uniform. But she scarcely cared. Besides, the monarchs suddenly reappearing before their return from their wedding moon would be more than controversial enough to steal the spotlight of any gossip.

Bronwyn and Malik had managed a little sleep on the ride back, but the surge of adrenaline upon their return burned away any lingering tiredness. Her pulse pounded. Tingling warmth filled her veins, anticipation rising.

And then they were there, at the doors to the royal suite.

The guards on duty did their best to hide their shocked expressions as they opened the doors wide. Bronwyn rushed through the sitting room and past the few familiar faces there, and burst through the open threshold into the queen’s bedchamber.

A strangled squeak caught in her throat as her eyes fell on Ceridwen. The queen—her sister—sat in a chair near the foot of the bed, looking bright and healthy as ever, a brilliant smile upon her lips. She turned. Her gaze caught on Bronwyn. The teacup she held clattered to the floor, and she leapt to her feet and raced across the room.

“Bronwyn!”

“Ceridwen!”

They met halfway, wrapping each other in a crushing embrace. As one, they sank into a heap on the floor, clutching each other tight.

“You saved me,” Ceridwen said, drawing back first. “Drystan has told me some of what you went through—” She shook her head, tears forming. “Oh, Bronwyn!”

Bronwyn sniffed and hiccupped, her own tears falling, but for once, she didn’t mind. These were tears of joy, happily shed. “And I would do it again to see you safe. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Ceridwen threw her arms around Bronwyn again, the force of the impact knocking the blanket away. Someone gasped nearby, and Ceridwen pulled back quickly. “Oh!” Her cheeks flushed as she took in her sister’s state of undress.

But Bronwyn just laughed. With all that had happened, a bit of societal indecency was the least of her worries, especially around those she counted as family and friends. And as she looked around, most of those close to them were there. Father, Gerard, Jaina, Jackoby, and Gwen. And Drystan, of course, too.

Ceridwen helped her to stand, and then Malik was there, lifting the blanket and settling it back on her shoulders. The queen looked up at him and smiled, then lifted one brow as she glanced at Bronwyn. “So, you two…?”

Malik tried to step away, but Bronwyn grabbed him and held firm. “Yes.”

At her pronouncement, Malik settled an arm around her shoulders. It felt right.

Ceridwen sighed. “Finally.”

A hint of indignity had Bronwyn’s lips pinching together.

“I suppose someone needs to let Adair know to return from your fake wedding moon with Lydia,” Bronwyn said. Anything to change the topic. Literally everyone in the room was staring at them, their questioning glances burning into her soul and making her want to run right back out the door. Especially her father’s. Goddess above, what an explanation that would be.

“Oh, we received news from them!” Jaina was exuberant. It was easy to see that she took the news of Bronwyn’s new attachment well from the appreciative, starry-eyed look she gave the couple.

“Don’t tell me they’ve gotten in some new trouble.” Bronwyn nearly stifled a groan. The last update from them had been less than promising.

“Quite the contrary.” It was her father who spoke this time. Now that she looked closer, he was smiling, too. Okay, maybe explaining Malik to him wouldn’t be so hard. “They seem to have worked things out between them. Very well, in fact.” He cleared his throat. “There was talk of trying to find a priestess before they returned…”

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