Page 57 of The Artist and the Dragon

If only he’d done a better job of cataloging everyone’s positions.

A few of the men wandered over. One clapped Lord Griffith on his shoulder. “Care to smoke with us?” Lord Osric asked.

Bronwyn visibly took a step further from the man. Malik couldn’t say he blamed her.

“I think I prefer the company of these lovely ladies.” That earned him a few chuckles and even a soft sigh or two.

Osric shifted his oily gaze to Malik instead. “Your Highness?”

A polite refusal was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t care for the man, or for cigars, for that matter. He would certainly prefer to stay with the women. But he wasn’t learning much here. Away from the women, conversation often shifted to more serious topics of politics and such. Someone might let their preferences slip. He still remembered the old secret handshake his father’s followers used. Perhaps he’d give it a go now that he knew a dragon might be in their midst. Besides, Bronwyn should be reasonably safe inside. Griffith certainly kept an eye on her, and he had a feeling the man would see to her well-being if something went wrong.

Malik grinned. “Why not? Excuse me, ladies.”

He’d brought their plans too close to ruin that night to not do something to make up for it. A dragon was in their midst. It was time to find out who.

Chapter 23

Bronwyn

Ithadbeenhardto breathe with Malik standing a mere few feet away. Even once he left the room, her chest was tight and warm to the point that she nearly considered asking one of the women if she could borrow her fan. Unfortunately, the only fan in proximity belonged to the young woman she’d slightly offended earlier that evening.

All she wanted to do was follow Malik from the room—preferably right out the gates and back to the castle, or his apartment, or anywhere.

But that might lead to other things, things she desperately wanted based on the ache low in her core and the moisture between her legs. Her mind, however, needed to be untangled. Desperately.

To go from thinking he was all but engaged to hearing a confession of love? She exhaled and took another long sip of wine. What a turn of fate.

The new knowledge was enough to leave her lightheaded and dizzy, but then there was the guilt… She cut a sideways glance at Phillip, who laughed at something one of the women had said. He was always so kind, considerate, and had been born and raised a commoner like her. They had much in common, and he’d been such a help these past weeks.

But it would be a lie to say she cared for him nearly as much as Malik.

She liked Phillip. ShecravedMalik—ached for him with a passion that scared her as much as it enticed her.

Yes, she wanted him, but letting someone in, opening her heart like that? It was dangerous. Foolish. Especially now. If her sister succumbed to the curse… Tears threatened to well up, but she blinked them away.

More than anything, she needed time to think. To process. But that wasn’t about to happen at a party.

A hand settled lightly on her shoulder. “Bronwyn, dear?”

She blinked, coming back to herself and looking over at Charlotte, whose brow was pinched in concentration.

“Should we take some air?” her friend offered.

Air. Yes. She needed that. But what if the men ventured outside instead of to the smoking room? Running into Malik again, with all the emotions of minutes ago still swirling within her, was the last thing she needed.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” Charlotte patted her. “If you insist.”

The ruby ring on her hand sparkled. Bronwyn’s stomach dropped.

Perhaps it was because she had been thinking about Malik, but the sight brought to mind something he’d told her weeks ago. One clue they had as to who had planted the dark magic spell at the wedding. A woman wearing a ring with a large, heart-cut ruby.

Surely not…

Bronwyn, realizing that she was staring and that Charlotte was giving her a curious look, said, “That really is a lovely ring. A family heirloom?”

“Oh, this?” She pressed her palm just above her breast, displaying the dazzling ruby and gold band. “I should say yes”—she dropped her voice to be in Bronwyn’s confidences—“but no, my brother got this for me the last mid-winter. He has such good taste, does he not?”

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