Page 95 of The Artist and the Dragon

“Your Highness…” the second began.

Bronwyn sharpened her look, and he quickly fell quiet. “Trust me when I say there is no one who wants this resolved more than me. If you’ll just let me in to see your superior?”

To that, they acquiesced. The lead inspector was a thin, aged man who looked down his pointed nose at her from the grand entry hall of the manor.

“Miss Kinsley.” His frown deepened. “You received the message I left at the castle regarding my desire to speak with you? I would have come there as I did this morning, though it seemed you were out?”

She had received that message. And promptly ignored it. Her faith in the local authority outside the castle was limited. After all, what had they done to track down the dragons? Nothing successful, that was certain.

“You and His Highness both left before I arrived on the scene last night,” he continued.

“His Highness was injured. As was I,” she replied sharply. “Surely, you didn’t expect His Highness to bleed out waiting onyou?”

The man flinched at her tone. “Of course not.”

“Then you understand why we had to leave. Now, then, I am here to speak to Miss Davies.”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “Miss Davies has spoken to no one other than to collapse into tearful hysterics.”

“And this surprises you, investigator?” She crossed her arms and stared him down. The man might be a foot taller than her, but height was no impediment to putting someone in their place or getting them out of her way. “Her brother is dead. Of course she is hysterical and unlikely to talk to you.”

“You think she will speak with you?” he all but sneered.

“Worry not. After I speak to her, I will share anything of note with you.”

The man looked more than irritated but said nothing more. A harried-looking butler stood nearby, unable to hold himself still. It was to him that Bronwyn turned her attention.

“Can you take me to Miss Davies?”

“It’s as the investigator says, Your Highness.”

Miss Kinsley,she silently corrected him.

“Miss Davies is distraught and seeing no one.”

“Please let me try,” Bronwyn implored. “If she knows a friend is here, perhaps it will ease her?” The words tasted sour on her tongue. She’d thought Charlotte a friend. Once. But with all that had happened over the past few days, could she believe that?

The man let out a sigh. “Come with me.”

Bronwyn followed him deep into the manor. She knew which door was Charlotte’s the moment they stopped in front of it because of the sobbing coming from the other side. The sound tore at Bronwyn’s chest.

The butler knocked. “Miss Charlotte, there is a Miss Bronwyn Kinsley here to see you.”

The sobbing quieted, but no response came.

The butler raised his fist to knock again when a hoarse voice asked, “Bronwyn?”

“Yes, Charlotte, it’s me. Can I come in?”

A wailing sob broke out. “I can’t. I can’t!”

“Charlotte—”

“It’s as I said, miss,” the butler said, trying to steer her back toward the main stairs.

Bronwyn stepped around him. “Please, Charlotte! Just speak to me. Just for a few minutes.”

“I-I I’m a mess! The room! I—”

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