Page 43 of The Artist and the Dragon

When they arrived back at the castle, Bronwyn mentioned, with a meaningful look that belied her words, that she would be going to spend some time with her father.

Perhaps she would, but it would be spent at Ceridwen’s side. He had no doubt of that. From what Drystan told him, Bronwyn spent time by her slumbering sister’s bedside every day. The cloud of worry was never far from her shoulders.

And Drystan…

Goddess help them if they didn’t figure out a way to wake Ceridwen soon. Their king might become a monster fully and in truth.

With the help of Jackoby, Malik found Drystan in his chambers, which he navigated to through the secret tunnels. Malik passed Ceridwen’s sleeping form on the way in. Her father read silently near her bedside and informed him glumly that there’d been no change. The queen still slept as if she were frozen in time. Her body passed no waste, nor did she seem to require liquid or food. Only rare shallow breaths and the abnormally slow beat of her heart showed she yet lived.

Bronwyn had not yet arrived, likely planning to wash and change, as he had, rather than appearing before her father in her disheveled state. If Mr. Kinsley knew of the accident at the racecourse, he made no mention of it, and neither did Malik.

When Malik entered the adjoining room, however, Drystan took one look at him, sighed, hunched over his desk, and said, “Don’t tell me. Not today.”

It seemed not even a quick bath and even quicker change of clothes could disguise that something had gone terribly wrong at the racecourse.

“Find anything useful?” Malik crossed the room to lean on the edge of the desk. With the curtains drawn tight and the candles burning low, one would never guess it was still mid-afternoon. Rather, the king’s quarters were locked in a state of perpetual night, as if the whole castle had been placed under a sleeping curse and not just its queen.

“Perhaps.” He passed Malik a stack of bent and crumpled papers that looked like they’d once been folded up. A few still bore traces of sealing wax.

Malik gave the top few a cursory glance. “What am I looking at?”

“There’s mention of a secret meeting place of the dragons that I’m unfamiliar with, Briar Rose. Seems to have been active after my time, up until when I was in Teneboure last year.”

“You think it might still be in use?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a possibility with investigating if we can sort it out.”

Malik grunted in agreement. It was one of the better leads they’d come up with.

He spent the next few minutes poring over the pages and comparing the words and phrasing to the key that Drystan had jotted out for him. The letters were full of words, but the real message was hidden in code.

A whisper of sound came from the other room—low conversation between Mr. Kinsley and a voice that never failed to make his heart give a little leap. He couldn’t hear what Bronwyn shared with her father, but the lack of any sharp exclamations said it probably didn’t include much sordid detail from the day.

Their conversation became even more muffled as Drystan rooted through a stack of books, clearly on the hunt for something.

“Here,” he said at last. “I meant to show you this.”

Malik came to peer over his shoulder, noting at once the familiar, decorative headings of a spell book he’d once studied and had loaned to Drystan for his pursuit of a cure for Ceridwen. Light magic. Thank the Goddess for that, though he knew Drystan had researched, and likely dabbled in, both light and dark spells in search of a cure for his wife.

His brow pinched as he took in the details on the page. “A detection spell? You mean to isolate the curse within her?”

He nodded. “If we can find where it resides, it may help in removing it.” He paused. “But I was … unsuccessful. I believe the detection spell may have been corrupted by my presence.”

A heaviness settled low in Malik’s stomach at the silence that followed and the indirect confession it contained. So, Drystanhadbeen using dark magic again…

Malik’s fist tightened at his side, but he said nothing. He hated it. Such magic led to nothing but ruin. But, had it been the womanheloved dying… He glanced toward the other room. Much as he loathed such magic, he understood why Drystan risked it.

“I’ll try it.” He’d never performed the spell. Hadn’t seen the point in it, really. It may not work for him, especially not without practice, but it was worth the attempt—several, if need be.

When they entered the bedchamber where the cursed queen lay, her father had departed, and Bronwyn occupied his chair. She held a letter, the seal broken, and tapped it on her leg to some silent rhythm. At their entry, she glanced up. Malik caught the spark of hope in her eyes, then the slight drop in her shoulders when neither of them showed much optimism.

“Malik is going to try a detection spell,” Drystan said by way of greeting. His casualness around Bronwyn said much for how close the sisters were and how often she visited.

“To detect what?” She shifted toward the edge of the chair, interest piqued.

“Dark magic,” Malik replied. “If we can isolate where the curse is within her body, it may help in finding a way to remove it.”

Her lips pursed in thought before she nodded slowly. “It’s worth trying.”

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