Page 70 of The Artist and the Dragon

A sigh of relief slipped through her lips. Nothing. No change.

She snapped it closed once more and shoved up from her chair, turning to see what the commotion was about. Through the windows at the front of the café, she saw a cluster of people standing on the sidewalk. The crowd wasn’t looking in at the tearoom but rather away, at something in the street or across it.

Then, Bronwyn spied a familiar form amid the onlookers.

“Is that Lord Griffith?” Charlotte asked, having spotted the same well-dressed man in the throng.

“I think so.” There weren’t many men with such handsomely bright hair, and even fewer who carried themselves so well.

Charlotte dug into her reticule, pulled out a few coins, and placed them on the table. A quick glance told Bronwyn they would more than cover their meal. “Please hold our table if you will,” Charlotte said to the waitress.

The middle-aged woman still wasn’t paying them any mind, transfixed by the quandary of whatever was happening outside.

“Let’s find out what’s going on.” Charlotte took Bronwyn by the hand and practically pulled her toward the door.

One of Bronwyn’s guards stationed outside entered the building and approached them. “Miss Kinsley, perhaps you should stay in.”

But Charlotte wasn’t about to be dissuaded. She ignored the man as if he didn’t exist and pushed on. Bronwyn gave him a weak smile as her friend towed her along. Outside, the commotion was so much louder. Words were yelled, some chanted, but they were a jumble to Bronwyn’s ears.

“Lord Griffith!” Charlotte called to him and gave a little wave.

He turned, eyes widening with surprise. “Miss Davies. Miss Kinsley!” He hurried over. “What are you doing here?”

“We were meeting for tea,” Charlotte replied as if the world wasn’t coming unglued in the streets.

“What is all this?” Bronwyn asked.

Phillip grimaced. “A demonstration. Come.” He spread his arms, trying to usher them back toward the building. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I want to see.” She had to know.

“It’s not—”

Bronwyn side-stepped out of his reach. And where were her guards? Why had she only seen the one?

“Bronwyn!” he called after her, but she ignored him, twisting to the side to slip deeper into the crowd. She stretched on her toes as she moved. Before the crowd, a man stood on a platform, giving him extra height as he shouted. A castle guard reached for him, but he jumped out of the way, nearly avoiding capture.

A few in the crowd chanted, and now she could make out the words. “Down with the king! An end to monstrous rule!”

She slid between two onlookers and froze at the sight before her. Another man holding a sheet with markings on it wrestled free from a guard. He leapt onto the side of an overturned cart and held the sheet aloft. Though the images on it were crudely drawn, they were clear enough to make out. A wolf-like beast with a sword through its chest and a beheaded dragon.

Bronwyn blinked at the sight. She was still staring when the castle guards wrangled the man to the ground.

They weren’t dragons, then. Not supporters of the old king … or the new one, it seemed.

Months ago, she’d have chanted right along with them. After all, in the short years of his reign, King Rhion had made life torturous for the common folk throughout the country, and she’d had no love for the monarchy, the nobility, or any of it before then, either. In fact, she had often thought things would be much better without all that nonsense, with more equity. She still did in so many ways.

But Drystan wanted to change things. To make them better. Didn’t he? Did they know that? She knew with absolute certainty that Ceridwen wanted change and would use every resource at her disposal to that end.

If they could save her.

A knot tightened in her chest. When a guard finally found her and tugged her away from the scene, she didn’t resist. Then Lord Griffith was there, and Charlotte, both looking worried and asking after her safety. Some nearby started to look their way, to whisper.

Lord Griffith cast a glance toward the crowd. “Come. My carriage isn’t far. That’ll be more discrete,” he said to the guard. “Both of you. Let me take you home.”

Bronwyn let herself be led away. The fire in her heart burned more dimly than it had in a long time.

The world, everything she knew about it, seemed to be breaking apart and reshaping itself each day. And where did that leave her?

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