Page 19 of The Musician and the Monster

Drystan’s brows stretched upward. That, he did not expect.A lover?His mood soured at the thought.

“Gwen has already gone to retrieve her, but he’s quite upset and causing a scene.”

A low grumble rumbled in his chest. Yet another problem he didn’t need. “I’ll deal with this.”

Fury simmered under his veins as he stalked down the hall.

Jackoby rushed to follow, falling into a hurried pace at Drystan’s side. “Let me handle this, my lord.” The older man was always quick to sense Drystan’s temper and try to intervene. It was one of the reasons he trusted him so. He knew too well what could happen if Drystan gave in to his baser urges.

The thought of having to dismiss Ceridwen, to lose her music and her presence he’d come to enjoy, angered him beyond reason. But if she had some lover that was going to be a constant pain and storm the gates, he might have little choice.

Drystan and Jackoby reached the side entrance to the yard in time to see Ceridwen rush from the main doors and head with haste toward the man slamming his hands against the bars of the gate. He was young, with dark hair and wearing the military regalia of the city watch.

“Her brother?” Drystan mused aloud. The thought brought him up short.

“Perhaps,” Jackoby replied. “Let me handle this, my lord.”

For once, Drystan agreed. He nodded, sliding back into the shadows and watching from the doorway. Somehow, the thought of the man being her brother, not some desperate lover, changed things. He tuned his senses to the conversation and listened.

“Did Father not tell you?” Ceridwen implored.

“He told me everything,” the man replied. “But you can’t stay here. It’s improper, even if he’s our Lord Protector. Having you stay within his manor like this is wrong.” He dipped his hand to the pommel of the narrow sword sheathed at his side.

The act had Drystan’s lips pulling back in a snarl.

“Please don’t cause a scene, young sir,” Jackoby commanded, advancing on the gate.

“Let my sistergo.”

Drystan rolled his shoulders, releasing some of the tension stringing him tight. Definitely her brother, then. He tried to recall his name. Adair, was it?

“I chose to be here. I’m staying.” Ceridwen crossed her arms and stared her brother down.

Unexpected warmth spread through Drystan’s chest, a protectiveness of this woman who would choose to stay despite his rules.

“Don’t mess this up for me,” she implored. “Not now.”

But she might as well have not spoken at all. Adair drew his sword and pointed the tip between the bars at Jackoby.

The barely leashed fury of minutes ago flared back to life within him.

How dare he? Brother or not.

“Please go,” Ceridwen begged.

“You cannot be serious,” Adair replied, not lowering his blade. “What have they done to you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine here.” Ceridwen stepped closer to her brother, the blade barely inches from her face. Too close. Far too close.

Something in Drystan snapped, and he found himself racing across the yard with inhuman speed.

“I can’t just leave—” Adair’s words cut off, his gaze flying wide as it settled on him where he stopped behind Ceridwen.

“You can.” Drystan wrapped an arm around Ceridwen, pulling her back from the gate and against his chest. She gasped, going absolutely still at his touch.

“You will,” he continued.

“You just… From where…” Adair stuttered as his shaky sword clanked against the bars. He shook his head, recovering quickly. Instead of retreating, as any wise man would do, the arrogant idiot slid his sword farther between the bars. “Let my sister go.”

---