Page 24 of The Artist and the Dragon

“And where would we say Their Royal Highnesses went?”

“There’s a lovely little manor in the countryside, Merryweather Hall. Small staff. Very private. Perfect for a new couple looking for some time alone together,” Malik said. “But it will be most convincing if we actually send someone along with the guards. We can ensure the staff’s silence once we arrive. But who will go?”

Gerard looked at his wife and said, “We would not be missed.”

“Mmm,” Malik mused. “But getting you there without someone noticing that you’re not Their Majesties might be a challenge.”

It was true, they bore little resemblance to the royal couple, especially in age.

“I could go.” Adair stared at Malik as if asking for a challenge. “I can select the guards and ensure their silence as well as that of the manor staff. If I wear His Majesty’s clothing, I could possibly pass for him, if seen through a carriage window for example. It would make the tale more believable.”

That unusual swell of pride flared in Bronwyn’s chest again. He’d do his best, too; he had ever since she and Ceridwen had confided in him and asked for his assistance in taking down the evil king. Funny that, once, she would have never thought him capable of carrying out such a ruse, but now she believed in him. “It’s a good plan,” she admitted.

“It won’t work if he travels alone,” their father said. The moment his weary gaze landed on Bronwyn, her stomach dropped. She knew the words that would come from his mouth before he spoke them. “Bronwyn should go, too. She can pretend to be her sister.”

She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. Only respect for her father kept her from snapping and cutting him off. The moment he paused, however, she said, “I’m not going.”

“Bronwyn.” Her father frowned, looking personally offended.

“I will not sit idly in some countryside manor while my sister lays dying.” She stamped her foot for emphasis. It made sense that he wanted her to go. She would be safe there, she and Adair both far from harm’s way. But she would be damned before she hid from danger while her sister was in such a state.

Adair huffed and crossed his arms.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “You have purpose in going,” she said, trying to soothe her brother’s ego. “I would not, save letting the people see someone leave in a carriage.”

“But Bronwyn,” her father continued, “someone must go, and there are no other young women in this room.”

“Bronwyn is right,” Malik said, much to her surprise. “She doesn’t have the right look, and she can be more helpful here.” He gave her the slightest nod of acknowledgement before focusing back on the others. “We learned this evening that the spell that dropped the chandelier at the wedding was placed by a young servant boy, who was paid to do it by a young woman, likely one of some status.”

Bronwyn looked at the prince sideways, seeing him in a new light. He’d investigated the incidents? Gathered information for the crown? Only minutes ago, Drystan had lashed out, naming him a traitor—though, with the shock and horror of Ceridwen’s curse, she was honestly surprised his outburst hadn’t been worse, hadn’t been aimed at all of them. He’d calmed easily enough, and now, he and Malik discussed the incident at the wedding feast with such ease it was apparent they worked together often. Yet she hadn’t known, hadn’t considered it. Perhaps there was more to the prince of pleasures these days than she gave him credit for. And now he wanted to ally with her on such a task?

“A woman?” Drystan echoed.

“I was surprised as well.” Malik crossed his arms. “But if a young lady is involved, another woman might be the key to gathering the information we need to discover the identities of the remaining dragons.”

Bronwyn swallowed a sigh. Ah, so it wasn’t him siding with her after all, simply seeing how she could help achieve his goals. They were her goals, too, now more than ever, but somehow, it still stung.

“Then who will—”

“Lydia will go if I ask her,” Adair cut in. “She and Ceridwen look enough alike and are about the same size. It will work.”

“You trust the girl?” Malik asked.

He notched his chin higher. “With my life. She’ll do her best for Ceridwen. You all know how much she cares for her.”

Bronwyn did. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t a tad jealous of their relationship at times. Lydia looked more like Ceridwen’s sister than she did, and she navigated the court with ease. In many ways, she’d be the better choice to stay and investigate the dragons, but Bronwyn wasn’t about to say that and convince the others to send her away.

No, she would not be caged. If she were to go away, if she did not do every single thing she could to save her sister, she would never forgive herself if the worst happened. But it wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let it.

“This is well and good, but how will His Majesty stay hidden? Or how shall we care for Her Majesty?” Gwen asked. “We can’t very well be going in and out of their quarters with food and such each day if they are on their wedding moon.”

“There are secret passages that connect to our rooms,” Drystan supplied. “We’ll use those.”

“There are?” Gerard sat up straighter, looking rightly disturbed.

Drystan merely shrugged. “Old escape routes in case of trouble. Many rooms have them, but I’ve had them mostly secured with magical wards. I’ll unlock a few—the one in your quarters as well, so you can visit.”

Mostly?Bronwyn frowned, bothered by the idea as much as the rest of her family. Would the surprises never cease?

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