Page 112 of The Musician and the Monster

“The girl’s songs are nothing but honesty!” the king yelled again before he clamped his hand over his mouth.

Blessed Goddess.Malik’s spell struck true. He could not lie.

The king twisted this way and that, his eyes burning with inhuman rage and flickering red in the torchlight. “Alistair, rein that girl in,” he snapped.

“With pleasure.” Malik sauntered her way. A cruel smirk painted his features. His dragon brooch gleamed in the light.

Drystan edged toward the side of the raised area, aiming for an easy path to leap between the king and Ceridwen should he need to.

Chest heaving, Ceridwen retreated, the perfect picture of terror as Malik grabbed her upper arm. He turned them both to the crowd.

Drystan paused, uncertain. He was supposed to lead her away, get her out of there. They’d agreed.

“The girl has sung an interesting tune.” Malik’s voice boomed, strong and clear. “You all know me. You’ve known me all your lives. My mother, Goddess give her peace, wasone of your number before she married my father. Believe me when I tell you, every word she sang is true.”

A cacophony of sound rose from the crowd, voices drowning out one another until an older man roared, “It’s true! Tristram lives! King Rhion killed his brother and the queen!”

Lord Stellan.Thank you.

“Stop this!” the king yelled, his eyes flickering an eerie and unnatural red. “Arrest them!”

That was his cue. Drystan advanced with the two other dragons, leaping from the box and onto the stage. But halfway across, his companions halted. The light-haired one slammed a fist against the invisible barrier—light magic to hold back the darkness.

“King Rhion killed King Jesstin and his beloved queen, but there is one royal he missed,” Malik yelled to the crowd.

Drystan pulled free his mask.

“Prince Tristram lives.” Malik thrust a hand toward him. “He’s innocent. Framed!”

The crowd vibrated with tension and sound. Some echoed Malik’s claim. Others hastened to the exits.

The snap of crossbows rang out just before bolts crashed into another barrier, falling to the stage in a clatter of wood. Drystan’s heart clenched tight in his chest, his monster roaring its fury. They’d aimed at Malik. At Ceridwen.

Other guards rallied against the ones who’d fired. “Listen to the prince!” one called as he knocked a man unconscious.Adair.So he held true after all and recruited a number of supporters from the look of things.

It was now or never. He had to act while the distraction held. Without another thought, Drystan pulled his sword, sprinted a few paces, and slammed the tip into one of the dragon’s chests.

The man let out a guttural groan and grunt as the blade sank deep. Drystan twisted it for good measure before pulling the blade free. The man fell lifeless to the ground.

The other, the light-haired man, gave a bestial roar. Clothing ripped, warped limbs bursting through seams, as he transformed into a dark beast. Drystan’s own echoed the call, the horrible sound ripping from his throat, but he held it back, forced it to stay buried deep inside him. Let the people see the king and his cronies for what they were, but not him, not yet.

Panic rose in the crowd, accompanied by shouts from guards begging for calm and order. Malik grabbed Ceridwen and made for the stairs leading from the stage.

Drystan faced off against the remaining dragon in his beastly form, which prowled back and forth like a wolf waiting to spring. From the corner of his eye, Drystan saw the king rush to the side of the stage, but advancing guards halted his progress. They didn’t raise a hand against their king, but neither did they let him through. Wicked claws extended from the king’s hand in a flash before they sliced a guard across his face. Screams and blood followed in their wake.

He loathed the loss, the innocents in harm’s way, but hopefully the nobles remaining in the yard would finally see their king for the monster he was. The king had submitted to the darkness to the point that there was little separation between man and monster, the man able to summon bits of his beast at will, like the garishly long claws still extended from his hands. There was no king, no beast, just one dark whole that had once been two halves.

The prowling beast sprang at Drystan. He barely had time to get his blade in front of him before the bastard was on him. The impact of the lunge knocked him to floor, his head and back slamming on the wooden stage. Sharp claws dug into his arm. Drystan roared in fury, thrashing against the monster pinning him down and narrowly dodging the snap of its maw. He twisted the blade in his hand, wrenching it up until he caught the beast in the side. It cried out and leaped and away.

Within him, his own beast begged for release, throwing itself painfully against the shell of his human form. Blood and violence beckoned, and he wouldn’t be able to hold it back much longer. The other beast sprang again, but this time, Drystan was ready. He met its swiping claws with his blade, the two meeting in a horrible screech of metal. But the beast was clumsy. Drystan’s blade sliced a deep gouge along its foreleg before it could retreat. Blood splattered on the ground as it leaped back, putting no weight on the injured limb.

“Father!” Malik’s roar carried over the chaos.

The king’s attention snapped to his son, bloody claws dripping where he’d disposed of two guards with ease.

Fuck. Run, damn it!

Malik stood little chance against his father. And Ceridwen? He started to turn his head to look for her, but the beast sprang at him again, nearly sinking its teeth into his arm before Drystan bashed it with the hilt of his blade to knock it away.

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