Page 2 of The Artist and the Dragon

An officer of the castle guard, sporting a purple and gold sash over his crisp crimson jacket—a uniform similar to the one her brother, Adair, now wore in his position as head of the guard—wove through the throng of noble toward her.

“My lady,” he said with a bow. “Her Majesty, Queen Ceridwen, requests your presence."

But Bronwyn wasn’t a lady. Not really. The topic of raising her rank had been discussed, but she didn’t want it. That wasn’t her. It never would be. “Tell Her Majesty that I will attend her shortly.”

She’d taken no more than a handful of steps when the guard moved to block her advance. “She’s this way, my lady.” He motioned behind him.

“I know,” she replied flatly.

“But—”

“I will attend her shortly,” Bronwyn repeated, brushing past the man on her way to the balcony. She needed air. Quickly. Despite its massive size, the ballroom closed in around her. Heavy perfume and laughter threatened to choke the air from her lungs.

She’d never favored these events—though she appreciated the occasion to wear a new dress or sample delightful fare. In her youth, when they’d lived in the countryside, she was only forced to attend a handful of parties. After they moved to Teneboure, a promise to Father had forced her out into society in that backwater city, but at least the gentry there were tolerable and numbered much fewer than in the capital, where they lived now.

Her heels clacked against the wide, stone balcony as she stepped into the night air. The lingering warmth ensured no one forgot it was summer, not to mention the lush plant-life and blossoming flowers in the courtyard below.

She filled her lungs with a deep, calming breath. Finally, blessedly, she was alone. Sort of. Noise and music flooded in waves from the double glass doors at her back, but it was quieter here. Almost peaceful, if such a thing as peace could ever be found within the high castle of Castamar.

Bronwyn longed for the home of her youth: sweeping countryside, forests, quiet, and most of all, no neighbors—especially no Malik. She set her saucer on the parapet before she could crush the crystal in her palm. The possible rumors taunted her already:Queen’s sister injured during the royal wedding.

She frowned. Did no one have anything better to do than gossip?

Ceridwen was married now. She didn’t need Bronwyn around anymore, not that she’d needed her before. Besides, she had Father, Adair, her husband, and many others. She never really needed her older sister anyway, but Bronwyn had promised to stay until the wedding, to help her plan and adjust. That was done. She had no reason to stay anymore.

The glow of the castle lights muted the stars as Bronwyn glanced toward the night sky. “Mother, what would you think of all this?”

Behind her, someone cleared their throat.

She jumped and whirled, nearly knocking her glass from its perch. Someone had joined her on the balcony. Though light spilling from the ballroom cloaked the figure in shadow, they were obviously male.

“I’m sorry to bother you, my lady.” He dipped a shallow bow.

Her lips thinned. Another guard? She sighed. “I said I’d be there in just a moment, I—”

“What?”

His form came into view. Rather than the crimson and gray worn by the guards, green stitched with brown and gold adorned him. Auburn hair framed an angular face unfamiliar to her.

An uncommon flush raced to her cheeks. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” His smile dimpled his cheeks. “Lord Griffith, at your service.” He swept into a courtly bow, demonstrating manners as refined as his perfectly tailored attire. The swirling designs on his jacket and the hint of a checked pattern on his waistcoat spoke of a man of fashion and artistic taste.

“My apologies, Lord Griffith.” Bronwyn gave a small curtsey, lifting the hem of her heavy skirts off the marble tiles. It was the least she could do—even if he had interrupted her.

“It’s no trouble. I see I’m not the only one who needed a moment of fresh air.” He crossed the balcony and leaned on the parapet. Casual, relaxed. A light breeze ruffled the ends of his hair as he took in the courtyard garden. “I find it overwhelming being around so many people. Small groups are so much more—” He waved a hand through the air.

“Comfortable,” she supplied.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Exactly.”

The coil of the tension within her eased just a bit. Finally, someone in this monstrous place that thought like her. What she wouldn’t give to return to county life, away from the arrogant nobles of the capital who swarmed around her family like bees.

“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your name. Lady…?”

Someone who hadn’t sought her out for her relationship to the new queen? For the first time that night, the smile that touched her lips wasn’t forced. “I’m not a lady. Miss Kinsley will suffice.”

He tilted his head. “Not missus?” He glanced at her hands where they rested on the parapet, near her drink.

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