Page 51

Malik

M alik brushed his hand across Bronwyn’s cheek, careful not to get blood on her. “Don’t cry.”

She sniffed harder at that, tears flowing like some dam had finally broken. This brave woman, finally allowing herself to be weak in front of him. No, weak wasn’t right. These tears were strength, too; proof of all they had endured and overcome.

Some of the fierce, burning pain coursing through his body subdued. Already, Drystan’s spells knitted together the worst of his injuries.

“He’s dead?” Malik confirmed.

Bronwyn nodded. “You don’t remember?”

“Little glimpses.” That was all he’d had through the beast’s eyes. The feeling of losing control was the greatest terror he’d ever experienced, like being lost in a deep lake, struggling for breath and barely catching a blurred vision beyond the water’s surface. How Drystan had endured it so many times—how any of them did—was beyond him. Such a thing would surely drive a man mad if he wasn’t already.

“You brought me back,” he said. It was her voice that had cut through the shadowy haze. It had been so quiet at first, a whisper, a hope. But each time she’d spoken to him, it had grown louder. The monster inside him seemed to calm for her, settling down instead of raging. As it did, he reached for that sound, grabbed hold of it and wouldn’t let go. Then he’d felt her, seen her, and suddenly, he’d been himself once more.

She wiped at her eyes. “I would never abandon you.”

“I know.” Even if he wished she would run and save herself, she’d saved him in the end, it seemed.

A minute later, Drystan pulled his bloody hands away. “I think I’ve fixed the worst of it.”

He had. Malik was weak. Tired. But he no longer felt his life force slipping away. “Thank you,” he said, though the words felt insufficient. “For everything.”

“Of course.” The king turned to Bronwyn. “You truly think Ceridwen is awake?”

Bronwyn nodded once, the barest hint of a smile touching her lips. “I do.”

Drystan rose with urgency. “I must go to her.” He turned away, took a step, and looked back. “Do you—”

“We’re fine,” she said quickly. “Go.”

With that, he turned and fled, calling to one of the guards for a horse. Off to see his wife—awake and safe for the first time in weeks. Malik’s chest swelled as he watched his cousin disappear into the night. He could only imagine the flurry of emotions rushing through him as he hurried to her side.

Malik’s gaze snapped to Bronwyn, who also watched him leave. The king wasn’t the only one eager to see the queen. “Go with him,” Malik said. “Go to Ceridwen. The guards will have horses. They can take you.” She was healed now, thanks to his touch. The moment he was himself again and realized that she was hurt, it had been his first priority.

She turned back to him, her lips upturned in a soft and dreamy sort of way. “Didn’t I just tell you I would never abandon you?”

“But your sister—”

“Will still be there when we get back. Plus”—she glanced back at the area where Drystan had disappeared—“I have a feeling they’re going to need a little time alone once he returns.”

*****

The royal guard showed their skills that evening. Even with very limited time to prepare, they’d considered a number of possible outcomes and planned accordingly. That included bringing along carriages and wagons to help transport any wounded and whatever else they might discover. More importantly, they’d brought food and water, which Bronwyn accepted like it was blessed by the Goddess herself.

The bastard hadn’t even given her water. Malik’s fist tightened. He had to remind himself once again that Griffith was dead and would harm her no more.

They were settled in a carriage, Malik haphazardly dressed in bits of a spare guard uniform, when the head of the company of guards approached with news. “Your Highness. My lady.”

“Yes?” Malik said.

“We’ve finished our sweep of the house. We found no one save”—his gaze flicked to Bronwyn, then back to Malik—“an old corpse on the top floor.”

“His mother, the late Lady Griffith,” Bronwyn answered.

Malik’s eyes widened. Goddess above…

“He said she died by her own hand some years ago,” she added.

“What should we do about it, Your Highness?” the guard asked, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “We could take her to—”

“Burn it,” Bronwyn interjected.

The guard straightened, mouth parted in surprise.

“Burn it all. The bodies. The house. All of it.”

He looked to Malik, but the prince simply shrugged. “You heard her.”

The guard blinked away his surprise and bowed. “Right away, sir.”

“My horse?” Malik called after him.

The man turned on his heel. “Safe and being cared for, Your Highness.”

“Good.” When the guard stood still, waiting, he added, “That’s all.”

“Wait!” Bronwyn called, nearly falling over him in her attempt to shout at the guard through the open carriage door.

He hustled back.

“Stay there a moment.” She jerked the door shut and pulled the curtain. A moment later, she was pulling at the ties on her ruined dress.

Malik chuckled. “You know I’m always up to try new things, but you never told me you were interested in having an audience.”

To his delight, Bronwyn rolled her eyes and pinned him with a hard stare as she pulled the dress free. She’d barely kicked off the last of the stained and torn thing before she gathered it into a ball, cracked the carriage door, and shoved it out. “Burn this, too.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before closing the door once more, sealing them inside together. She grabbed a blanket and pulled it around herself before snuggling up to him on the bench. “I’m making a terrible habit of returning to the castle in only my underthings.”

“Terrible for whom?” He looked her over appreciatively.

Bronwyn swatted at him playfully. “We almost died.”

“Exactly. Why wait? Who knows what the future has in store.”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” She nestled closer. “Though I really don’t prefer to have an audience.”

He chuckled and put an arm around her, content with her safe and close. They had almost died. The thought of losing her nearly undid him then and there. A tight ache in his chest had persisted from the moment she’d gone missing until … well, it hadn’t really let up. But he tried to breathe, to relax. The head of the dragons was dead. At last. And he’d taken more of them down over the days prior. Bronwyn was safe. She was his.

There was much to be grateful for and look forward to.

Some minutes after the carriage rocked into motion, Bronwyn broke the comfortable silence between them. “Do you know what you became?”

He rubbed at his chest. Just when I was starting to relax… “A monster.”

She looked up at him despite the darkness of the cab. “A dragon.”

A— “What!”

To his surprise, she smiled. “Not a monster like we know, like the rest of them. You became a dragon, Malik. Wings and all.”

His chest shook, a strange sort of laughter coming out of him in little huffs. “I can’t have. They don’t exist anymore. I’ve never—”

“I saw it. So did Drystan. And the guards.”

“But how?”

“You tell me.”

“I…” He was speechless. Utterly at a loss for any kind of explanation.

Bronwyn rubbed soothing strokes up and down his arm. “Did you … did you use dark magic?” she asked.

“No.” It hadn’t come to that, thank the Goddess. “I drank blood, though, to convince the dragons that I was on their side and to get them to let their guard down.” Which had worked incredibly well. “There wasn’t time to vomit it up before I felt something stirring within me, almost like another presence waking up.”

Her hand stilled on his arm. “Is it still there?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t sense it. If it is there, it’s content and quiet for now.” Perhaps because it had had its due, its lust for violence and blood slaked. That was what the monsters wanted. Would a dragon be the same? There was no one to ask. No record to research.

“I wonder…” Her brow knit as she stared at nothing on the other side of the carriage.

“What?”

“Well, you never used dark magic. In that lost song Ceridwen found, the Ballad of the Goddess, it talked about the magic warring, about darkness being a test. What if … what if you passed? You sought power, but not for your own ends. You became the dragon to save me. To stop a true monster. And you never used dark magic, though you could have. Maybe the Goddess knew? The dragon was a reward?”

A dark laugh fell from his lips. “The dragon is no reward.” Losing control like that … it was a curse, no matter the form he took. “But maybe you’re right. Still, I think it best not to try again. It is a consequence I never want to repeat. In fact, it would probably be best for everyone if the truth of what I became fades back into myth.”

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “That may be difficult. There were a number of royal guards present.”

“Difficult, perhaps, but worth trying.” He ran his fingers through her hair and down over her shoulder. “With any luck, the dragon will be gone for good. Drystan said that his monster would fade away if he did not consume blood or touch dark magic for a time. One can only hope this will be the same.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and soulful. “I will be here with you. If it is or if it’s not. You’re not alone.”

“I know.” And he sealed the words with a kiss.