Page 116 of The Musician and the Monster

“What’s going on?” Ceridwen needed to know, to see. “Help me sit up.”

Ceridwen winced in pain and held in a whimper as Bronwyn slipped an arm under her shoulders and helped her sit.

The guards still stood in the yard, eyes rapt on the stage. They wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t stop it.

Drystan, still a beast, stalked in front of the now human king, who reached for the blade still protruding from his back.

She’d done it. It worked.

A magicless human had to wield the Gray Blade. Only could someone without magic use it to nullify magic—dark or light. And without his magic, the beast that the king released from the prison of his body was no more. He had no more power than any normal human.

As he reached for it, the blade began to crumble. The hilt clattered to the ground. Ash rained down where the blade had been, accompanied by blood from the king’s wound. Its purpose fulfilled, the blade ceased to exist. Only one use. At least she’d used it well.

Drystan, still a beast, lunged for the king. With a snap of his fanged jaws, he clamped down on the king’s throat and ended his life.

Chapter 52

Ceridwen

Drystan’s monster didn’t stop with the king’s last gurgle of life. Ceridwen had known what it could do and seen some of the result, but watching it happen was an entirely different matter.

The monster feasted on blood.

Her vision turned blurry around the edges. The world spun.

Someone, possibly multiple someones in the yard, retched. Others clamored in confusion. One brave soul yelled, “Kill the monster! End this.”

Adair tried to hold him back, but it wouldn’t last for long. Already two other men pulled free their blades.

Impossibly, they’d done it. But if Drystan were to die now, it would all be for nothing. And if he lived but killed even more innocents… How much could one soul take?

Ceridwen pushed to her feet, ignoring the pain radiating through her body and the dizziness threatening to spill her onto the bloody ground.

“Ceridwen, what are you doing?” Bronwyn asked in a harsh whisper.

“Stay here. No. Go to Malik.” If anything went wrong, maybe he could protect her. Though he’d yet to rise himself.

“Don’t even—”

Ceridwen’s look silenced her. Resignation. Determination. Bronwyn didn’t try to talk her down again.

Her voice floated across the stage, clear and strong as she began to sing. “Select children she blessed with the gift of light.”

She stepped closer to Drystan, her focus on his pointed ears, the ridge of fur along his back, anywhere but the nauseating mess under his paws and jaws. Bronwyn took the opportunity to slink away, over to Malik.

“Giving them an extra share of speed, grace, and might.”

“There’s nothing to hold him back. He’s just feasted.” Malik grunted in pain. “Don’t!”

Ceridwen ignored him, too, and continued singing the third movement ofThe Blessings of the Goddess. It was what people had come to hear after all, even though most of the audience had long since fled. The words centered her. They calmed her soul, just as singing had before grief stole her voice. She wouldn’t let that happen again. Never.

“From blood they called forth further skill.”

The monster raised its head. A long dark tongue licked away the blood on its fangs. She nearly gagged, but a quick shake focused her attention. Adair yelled from the yard, accompanied by other men, but Ceridwen waved them off with a gesture of her hand. At least one called her mad. Others had more creative ideas or warnings.

Not now. Don’t interrupt me now.

“Given form through heart, shape, and will.”

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