Page 81 of The Artist and the Dragon

“Got you.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked over the word. Why do this? Why hurt her? If she was going to die, she at least wanted to know.

A few wayward tears rolled down her face. They weren’t from the pain but from the death staring her in the face—hers, her loved ones’. Her sister who might now never wake, the man she loved who would never know. She’d been a fool, holding herself back, afraid of what caring for him could cost her. But how much worse, to know that she could have had him and missed her chance because of fear.

Davies’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “A new era is dawning. The dragons shall rule.” He shoved the sword higher, pressing against her neck, nearly cutting off her airway.

“You’retheDragon,” she wheezed. “It was you? All this time?”

He laughed, a manic sound that would haunt her nightmares. “You honor me, truly. If only I were so great, but the one I serve is a dragon in truth.” He shook his head, still laughing. “Oh, little princess, you have no idea, do you? He is right in—”

Something smashed into the side of Mr. Davies’s head and sent him sprawling. The pressure on her throat released as the wood sword and its captive dagger crashed to the ground. She grabbed at her throat, sucking in one breath after another as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Malik. Malik was there. He held a metal rod of some sort in one hand, the end of it bloodied.

Bronwyn nearly sobbed in relief. He’d come. He’d saved her. He was all right.

Mr. Davies howled on the ground, half his hair matted in blood and more of it steaming onto his pristine clothes. Malik took his time coming to stand above the man, cocking his head as he stared down at him.

“How dare you touch her,” he snarled.

Never, in all her time with the prince, had she seen this side of him. Ferocity rolled off him in waves. His every movement promised death and retribution.

Mr. Davies rolled onto his back and looked up at his doom. “You!” He gaped. Reached.

Malik swung the metal bar into the side of Davies’s head with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered. The man’s arm fell limp to the ground.

Bronwyn looked away, covering her mouth at the shock of it all. At the brutal, efficient blow that Malik had delivered on her behalf.

Adrenaline ebbed, and she slid down the wall. Words became buzzing in her ear. Then Malik was there, right in front of her, touching her face and saying something. He’d removed his gloves, and the slide of his fingers across her cheek was soothing, comforting. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and lean into that touch.

“Bronwyn?” Finally, her name on his lips cut through some of the haze of shock. “Please. Tell me you’re all right. Your arm…”

She glanced down at it, frowning at the line of crimson and the few drops of blood dripping to the ground. It wasn’t bad, really, not for how terribly it had hurt at first. She’d almost forgotten about it considering everything else.

“It’s nothing,” she managed. “You…” Finally, she took a moment to look him over, from his slightly singed sleeve to the gash on his arm, which was likely much worse than hers given the amount of blood soaking his coat.

“I did.” His mouth formed a grim line. “But when I saw him attacking you, something in me broke. I had to save you, to stop him, to—”

“I know.” Somehow, she did. If their roles had been reversed… She understood. Though it was a damn shame they couldn’t interrogate him first. And Charlotte—

She shut that thought down as quickly as it sprouted. “But your arm. You’re hurt.”

He glanced at the ruined jacket and winced.

“Don’t try to tell me it’s just a scratch.”

Of all the ridiculous responses, he smiled. “There she is.”

“Oh, hells!” Wynni’s exclamation had them both turning to stare at her. She gaped at the dead body on the floor. Her stage manager, pale as a ghost, advanced toward the body, likely to inspect it for signs of life that he would not find. At least the flames on the burned set piece seemed to have gone out and not spread.

Another man stood near her, one Bronwyn did not expect. He took in the scene in shock, eyes blowing wide when they finally landed on her.

“Bronwyn!” Phillip raced over, all but ignoring Malik and dropping to his knees at her side. “Goddess above! What happened?”

She couldn’t respond before he continued, “The chandelier nearly dropped, and everyone panicked. And you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you’d gone, and I was so worried. I looked everywhere and then finally found Lady Wynnifred—” He touched Bronwyn’s face as if that could tell him anything about her injuries.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Malik bare his teeth in a silent snarl, but he said nothing, nor did Phillip look his way before he’d settled back into his grim countenance.

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