Page 24 of The Musician and the Monster

Ceridwen paled and leaned back toward the window. “No. They certainly do not.”

“I thought not.” Drystan stared at the dour expression that had risen to her face. “The execution was…uncomfortable at best for all in attendance. I’m sure no one wanted to repeat that in the tales they told their friends and relations.”

She hugged her arms around herself, and he instantly regretted the frankness of his words. Even the sun retreated behind a cloud, stealing its warmth away from them.

Words to comfort her eluded him, and before he could chase them down, she spoke again, her voice a soft whisper toward the window pane. “The rumors out of the capital these days are not much brighter.”

He stiffened. “You heard that here?”

Ceridwen shook her head. “The women gossiped about it before I ever came here.” She glanced at him. “Monsters like our own. Whispers of terrible magic like the Dark King used to use.”

So the rumors had spread to Teneboure. Things might be worse than he feared. Drystan remained silent. He could offer little in the way of comfort other than lies.

“I wish the king would do something about it. Or…”

Or me?He wanted to ask.I’m trying.

“The king, he—” He clenched his fist at his side. “Never mind. We shouldn’t speak of it.” He had more discretion in his words than his servants when speaking about their not-so-beloved monarch. He had to.

Ceridwen gave a soft gasp and turned more fully in the seat.

“What—”

But before he could ask, she reached back for him, tugging on his sleeve. “Look!”

His focus glued on her hand, that touch, and for a moment, all thought of what she’d seen vanished.

Ceridwen gave him another gentle tug and pointed out the window, a smile spreading across her face. “Snow.”

The first flakes of winter. The joy of it lit the woman before him from the inside out. All talk of darkness vanished amid the spark of wonder radiating from her. A soft giggle escaped Ceridwen as she watched the flakes fall, and Drystan smiled too. Not at the snow that reminded him all too well of his time running short, but at the woman who found reasons to smile amid the coming darkness.

Chapter 12

Drystan

Drystan spent hours in the library with Ceridwen over the next few days, each taking turns reading aloud from books of myths and fanciful stories. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d felt so at ease, so…joyful. It’d been years. Before the loss of his family, that was certain. And while he should be focused on working his spells, preparing for his return to the capital only weeks away, he couldn’t find it in himself to begrudge the time he spent with her. She was a light in his dark world, one he hadn’t realized he needed. He should have been working today to make up for the lost time in the library, but the thought of seeking out Ceridwen claimed the full front of his desires.

He found her just outside the greenhouse, standing atop a stone bench and reaching toward the nearby wall as if she might climb it. How delightfully odd. And curious. Why would a lady need to scale a wall? Then he noticed which wall exactly it was, one that formed the base of his tower, a place strictly off limits to everyone, including his staff, but especially her.

Jackoby had mentioned seeing the young woman at the base of the stairs to his tower, though she never ventured more. He assumed it mere curiosity, but this? Surely she couldn’t know what he did up there. Drystan’s chest drew tight, his jaw stiff. He liked to believe their companionship genuine, maybe even the start of something more. She couldn’t be a clever spy, could she?

Her boot slipped on the edge of the bench. A scream cut through the yard as she fell, crashing hard to the ground.

All his worries from moments before vanished at the sight of her fall, worry surging forward as he raced for her. “Ceridwen!”

“Oh Goddess,” she groaned, pushing into a sitting position on the yellowed grass. The few snowflakes that fell the day before had long since melted.

“Ceridwen.” Drystan knelt at her side. “What’s happened?” he asked, pretending he hadn’t seen her failed attempt and subsequent spill from the bench. Perhaps in her panic,she hadn’t heard him cry her name. His heart still raced as he looked her over for injuries. No blood, but with the thick layers of her skirts and long sleeves, he could see little of her. Some of her hair had slipped free from where she had pulled it back, the strands draping along one cheek.

“I was taking a walk and fell.”

A lie, maybe to cover her embarrassment, but his desire to press her further vanished as she held her wrist and lifted it to him. “I fell on it.”

“Let me see that.” Gently he ran his gloved fingers along her skin, but even so, she winced. “You can’t play like this.”

It wasn’t a question. Still, she bit her lip and nodded.

Damn. What a predicament.

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