Page 27 of The Musician and the Monster

Chapter 13

Ceridwen

That evening, Gwen stopped by Ceridwen’s room before dinner. Heavy, shimmering fabric in shades of blue hung from her arms. Her eyes sparkled more than the cloth, matching the wide grin on her face.

“I know you have dresses of your own and some recent new ones,” she began. “But I made this one just for you. With a little help from the maids.”

Ceridwen gaped as she laid the dress out across the bed, displaying the layers of luxurious material, more costly than anything she could ever afford. A tight bodice embroidered with birds reminiscent of the ones on Lord Winterbourne’s favored jacket topped a flowing layered skirt. Tight sleeves fanned out at the elbows, accented with the same navy and silver threads that matched the bird’s design.

“It’s so beautiful. But for me?” She shook her head. She was just a guest, a paid musician, and they’d given her so much already. She didn’t deserve anything like that.

Gwen chuckled. “It’s a gift, dear. You’ve livened up this tomb and brought the young lord as close to his old self as I’ve seen in years.”

Years… How long had he been this way? But a better question. “How long have you served him?”

Her laughter softened into a motherly smile. “Since he was a small child.”

“Has he always been so…” She couldn’t find the right word. Secretive? Unkept? Odd? No matter how much she poked around the manor or casually asked of the servants, she could learn little about the Lord Protector. In fact, much of what she had learned, about his magic, his love of plants, came from the time she spent with him the past few days.

“No,” Gwen replied over one shoulder before turning back to the dress and fluffing out the sleeves. “Not always. Would you like to try it on? We measured it off one of your other dresses, so it should fit, but we have a little time if I need to make any quick adjustments.” She reached into the pockets of her apron and pulled forth a pin cushion bearing sharp bone needles and spools of thread.

Ceridwen carried the dress behind the screen to change. “Lord Winterbourne has been in Teneboure for less than a year. Where did you live before coming here? The capital?”

Most nobles did, preferring to remain among each other’s company and near the royal family—or so she’d been told. She’d only visited the capital once, when Mother died, and that trip was best not remembered. Nothing good had come of it, just like nothing good so far had come from her poking about the manor. The more she tried to learn about Lord Winterbourne or about the monster haunting the city, the more the secrets seemed to close in on themselves, even if she had gotten a few tidbits more from Lord Winterbourne in the gardens today.

Her attempt to scour the tower base for some hidden entrance or other storybook-fueled nonsense? What a disaster. She’d promised Bronwyn she’d try to learn about the monster, see if there was anything that she could garner to earn the mayor’s reward, but on that front, her time in the manor had been completely fruitless. Even the library was oddly devoid of anything useful—at least, in the books she’d looked through so far. Her tendency to get distracted with fanciful stories didn’t help.

No response came as Ceridwen pulled on the new dress over her shift and corset, reveling in the feel of the cloth under her fingertips, along her arms, and around her legs.

She assumed Gwen ignored or missed the question until finally, she said, her voice somber, “Yes, the capital.”

A tickle of unease raised gooseflesh along her arms. The rumors of death and dark magic… “I heard rumors of monsters in the capital. Is it true?”

Gwen clucked her tongue. “It’s bad luck to speak of such things, especially tonight as we honor the Goddess in preparation for the winter snows. What you sow today, you reap the whole way through.”

A sigh stuck in her throat. Just like that, she dodged the question.

Again.

A frown still painted Gwen’s features when Ceridwen emerged from the screen, but it changed into a blinding smile as soon as Gwen beheld the dress.

“Oh, it is marvelous!” she exclaimed.

Ceridwen motioned toward the back of the dress and pulled her blond braid in front of her. The style of dress and complex laces were impossible for her own hands. This wasn’t a commoner’s outfit, not like the others she could fasten on her own.

“Of course, of course.” Her deft hands secured the dress around her middle, ensuring it would not slip or gape. “It fits well, don’t you think?” Gwen asked.

The low-cut bodice exposed more than Ceridwen would have preferred, and she fought the urge to tug it up. While stylish, it did not suit her usual preference, but even so, the rest of the dress fit like a dream. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“I was so worried,” Gwen said. “It’s been years since I’ve made such a dress.” She opened her mouth to continue but slammed it closed again and abruptly looked away.

The extra bit of knowledge added more questions to the ever-growing list than it answered. How could one household conceal so much? And why?

“Anyhow,” Gwen continued. “I thought the dress might be perfect to celebrate tonight. You all honor the first snow here in Teneboure, correct?”

Ceridwen bobbed her head. “Yes, we do.”

The whole city would celebrate tonight—her family included. It was a tradition the day after the first snow of the season. Candles would be lit in windows all night, a prayer to the Goddess and her Eidolons for warmth and protection amid the upcoming heavy snows. The crispness in the air already teased their approach. It’d been the same in the countryside too, where a harsh winter storm could be even more punishing.

---