Page 17 of The Musician and the Monster

“Warded?”

He raised one dark brow. “Surely you know that some nobles can work spells?”

She swallowed and gave a short nod. Yes, she’d heard that. The most powerful of them could work magic even beyond their enhanced strength and senses, but she’d never seen it, never had the chance to meet a noble. In all her years, she’d heard no more than what rumor and histories could teach her, and that was often vague at best, prone to dramatics.

“You should be safe from the monster inside your room,” he replied.

“Thank you, my lord.” She didn’t understand the method of it, but the protection was a blessing all the same.

“I shall consider your request,” he said, seeming much calmer now. “For now, proceed.”

She closed her eyes, blocking out the man beyond and the unfamiliar room around her. Ceridwen’s thoughts drifted away, far from the worries of the day as she raised the instrument to her lips. The melody flowed out, smooth and even. The walls of the room echoed the notes, but that, too, she tuned out. Only music remained, staccato notes teasing the tale of a hunt for the great stag of the northern wood.

When that song came to its end, she played another, her fingers flying over the keys by memory. A third followed. And a fourth.

She opened her eyes as the last song drew to its close. Soft, mournful tunes hung in the air long after she lowered the flute into her lap, the last remnants of lovers parted by death.

Not a sound came from the chair where Lord Winterbourne sat. His glass stood empty on the side table with the decanter. Had he not blinked, she might have thought him asleep with his eyes open.

His steady regard reached into her soul, tickling something she never expected. Heat rose to her cheeks. Ceridwen licked her lips without thinking, staring at the noble across from her.

Did he watch me like that the whole time? With eyes that I could drown in?

She waited for him to request another song or dismiss her.

He did neither.

“Thank you,” he said at last.

His deep timbre rolled across her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. The rich voice held all softness and silk compared to the sharp, biting tone he’d used earlier.

Lord Winterbourne rose in a fluid motion and crossed the room to a large cord hanging from the wall. A bell rang in the distance, barely audible through the walls of the study.

How had two words affected her so? Ceridwen’s restless hands found a home in the skirts of her dress as she waited to be dismissed, escorted back to her room, anything. The thick silence that hung between them threatened to undo her. Not to mention the feeling of his gaze sliding over her skin, all honey and velvet.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as a soft knock came at the door, and Jackoby entered. He dipped a bow to his lord before extending an arm to Ceridwen.

As she slipped her arm through the butler’s, Ceridwen looked back once at Lord Winterbourne. The sight sent a shard of ice through her heart. Red eyes.

She blinked, and they were gone. So fast, the odd sight came and went. She shook her head, clearing the image, which must have been some trick of the light.

“Good night, Ceridwen,” Lord Winterbourne said as Jackoby led her from the room.

The noises that woke her could have raised the dead—shaken their spirits out of the Goddess’s hallowed halls. Even her Eidolons—or Saints as the southerners liked to call them, those special humans who’d so embodied one of thecharacteristics she favored as to earn their own form of immortality in her service—would have been moved by the sound.

Deep growls rumbled through the quiet night—an animalistic howl unlike any wolf she’d ever heard. Worse, the sounds came from nearby, possibly within the manor walls.

She yearned to pull the covers tighter and block out the chilling symphony when the sound changed to a soft keening that threatened to crack her heart in two.

Hesitantly, Ceridwen slipped from the bed, ignoring the cold touch of stone on her skin as she traced to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the right side of the room. Darkness reigned beyond. Earlier in the day, she’d been so adamant about letting in the light and illuminating this gloomy manor, and the kindly housekeeper, Gwen, hadn’t seemed to mind.

Were the curtains drawn in order to hide from the monster?

The balcony stood empty, its stone stark white in the moonlight shining down overhead. Only the shadow of the tall tower marred its surface.

Could the monster come within the manor walls? Would it? Lord Winterbourne himself seemed skeptical that the walls could keep it out. Despite her one horrific encounter with the beast, the pitiful sound ripped her heart anew. Did it suffer? Was that why it killed and maimed? Her palm rested against the cool glass, letting the night slip under her skin with the dark thoughts.

A sharp whine, more pained than terrible, crawled in through the cracks between the window panes and balcony doors.

---