Page 25 of The Artist and the Dragon

They began discussing the more intricate details of the plan: Adair and Lydia wearing masks to hide their identity on the way to the carriage—they’d call it a tribute to their dance at the masquerade ball in Teneboure; the route they would take and the most loyal guards to accompany them; what they would tell the guards and maids due to attend the royal couple in the morning…

The plans became a buzzing in Bronwyn’s ear, and she soon returned to the edge of her sister’s bed, taking her hand in hers. The warmth of it was reassuring, as if she truly were just asleep.

I’ll save you,Bronwyn told her silently.I’ll find a way to free you of this. I promise.

Chapter 11

Malik

Itwaslate—or,rather,early—by the time the plans were hashed out. It had become an unfortunate trend for Malik lately. Too many late evenings discussing plans or carrying them out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken refreshed or taken in a sunrise that wasn’t viewed on his way to bed.

“In the morning, I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the dragons,” Bronwyn said by way of farewell, not waiting for a response before brushing past him toward the door.

Malik watched her leave, his mind stumbling over what to say to get her to stay. She’d exhibited so much strength and courage that night during such a tragedy, but her voice lacked its usual bite and her features were downcast, to say nothing of the vacant look that occasionally overwhelmed her gaze. She was hurting, hollow, and with all the family clamoring over Ceridwen, not a one seemed to notice the barely concealed pain of the eldest daughter.

How could he leave her like that?

Malik started to follow her when Drystan called out to him. The sound of his name rooted him to the rug.

“I need your help,” Drystan said, drawing near.

“What else can I do, cousin?” He meant it with every fiber of his being, though he truly didn’t know what else could be done that night.

“I’m going to unlock the wards on a few of the passages, show Jackoby the way through so Ceridwen’s family can visit and she can be cared for.”

“And you want me to help?” Malik asked.

Drystan’s gaze cut away, then back to him. “Not exactly, not with that.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “It shouldn’t take long, but once I’m done, I was hoping you could aid me with something else.”

Malik’s brows rose. “Which would be?”

Drystan shook his head and gave a meaningful glance toward Ceridwen’s father nearby. “I’ll explain later.”

Strange. And intriguing, especially after the accusations earlier that night, though Drystan’s tone no longer hinted at anger, more desperation. “All right, but I have an errand of my own to see to first.” If he wasn’t too late.

Drystan nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Finally able to pull himself away, Malik ventured from the royal quarters and down a nearby hall, stopping in front of a particular door. It wasn’t far from his own room in the castle, one that went unused far more often than not since he preferred his private apartment. Though he’d never knocked on this door, he knew it was the right one. He’d stopped in front of it before—several times, if he were honest, which he sometimes was—and contemplated knocking. Every time, he’d talked himself out of it. Giving in would have damaged his mission. It was a long game he played, and he had to aim for that ultimate goal, not a delightful temptation that would lead him astray and make what he had to do even more agonizing.

But tonight, he knocked.

And she answered.

Bronwyn was still fully dressed, thank the Goddess, though her eyes were a touch redder than he remembered, even if her cheeks were dry. The wondering look on her face twisted into a scowl. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to come to a lady’s room at night? Especially uninvited?”

Rather than turning him off, her disapproval lit a spark in his heart, a thing that had been cold and desolate far too often of late.

He smirked. “Finally calling yourself a lady now, are you?”

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “What do you want?”

He leaned into the threshold. “May I come inside?”

She stared at him silently, barely blinking. Malik tensed, prepared to have the door slammed in his face. But much to his surprise, she stepped back, granting him entry.

The breath he’d been holding slipped out in a rush. He followed her in and closed the door behind him. Her sitting room was as dim as the hallway, only a single candle lighting it, but it was still enough to take in the details of the space and find it … empty.

Well, not empty. There was a small seating area, some tapestries, a cold fireplace, and a door leading to the bedroom. But the space contained nothing of the woman before him. The furniture was the same gaudy stuff that had existed in the castle since he was a boy. The tapestries were far from her taste. Not one knickknack or decoration of any sort hinted at who resided there. Had she done nothing to make it her own? It was almost like she didn’t plan to stay…

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